Saying goodbye to the refrigerator

Last week, we had a death in the family. The cold, cold heart in our refrigerator quit beating and Wal-Mart doesn’t sell pacemakers for compressors. There are no obituaries for refrigerators. If there were, it would say, “Never has a box done so much for so many for so little.”

The big box never received a compliment like the thermostat or the light switch on your wall. You never miss the water until the well runs dry. The big white box was buried at that big landfill on the Sumter highway. There were no pallbearers and the only mourner was my pocketbook that had to replace the dearly departed. The refrigerator was survived by many appliances, including a stereo that still plays 78 rpm records. The refrigerator was older than my grandchildren, along with a television set; it was their favorite appliance. Our refrigerator was a workaholic. It never took a vacation, never asked for a raise like Peggy. It was indispensable.

People live longer than appliances because they are not man-made. Life expectancy depends less on the star you are born under than the color of the traffic light when you are crossing the street.

Peggy stripped the refrigerator of photographs, memos, doctors’ appointments, telephone numbers and pictures of the grandchildren. There was a picture of me before Father Time sucked all the hair off my head and put it in my nose and eyebrows.

 Has anyone ever conducted a survey to determine how many times a refrigerator is opened during its lifetime? If I had a dime every time Carsten, Noah, Will and Ben opened the doors to our dearly departed white box, I could pay off all my debts and have enough left over to farm for four years without having to borrow money.

The kitchen is Peggy’s domain. My only talent is thinking of new ways to open a tin can. They say half the accidents that happen in the home happen in the kitchen. At my house, I have eaten most of them. The refrigerator was a witness to Peggy’s crime against humanity. I can only imagine how frustrated it must have been watching Ole Scrap Iron take fresh, tasty ingredients and turn them into culinary gargoyles.

The last time I went shopping for a refrigerator, gas was cheap. Grandchildren were only a dream and my voice haunted every radio in Williamsburg County. Our refrigerator cost more than the old one, but this one has more bells and whistles. This one had a dispenser for ice cubes on the front door. We have all become slaves to technology. Today there are more cell phones in the Pee Dee than there was indoor plumbing when I went to work at WDKD in 1949. Wishing won’t make it so, but I wish all cell phones were on a party line. Can you imagine the chaos it would cause? It would be responsible for more high blood pressure than barbecue and salt combined.

Since Peggy and I didn’t have a “sitting up” for our old refrigerator, maybe we should have an open house to introduce you to our new refrigerator. Peggy will be serving light hors d’oeuvres, so bring your own stomach pump.

— Charlie Walker is a local newspaper columnist. He can be reached at P.O. Box 441, Kingstree, SC 29556.