For the past 42 years, we were the best of friends.
We met long ago. Before I could walk. Before I could talk.
We grew up together, but rarely spoke even though we were in the same house and often times shared the same workspace.
It may sound like we were strangers, but that’s not the case even though I was selfish and only reached out when I needed to.
I apologize for that.
In the black of night I knew if I needed to find may way through the darkness, I would not be let down.
When storms rolled through and lightening lit the sky, there were times when my friend abandoned me, but when skies cleared, I celebrated the return.
I don’t mind paying to have my friend around. But let’s be clear on that tho, we don’t have “that” type of relationship.
Speaking of paying, my friend is pretty cheap compared to others in that particular class. But I’m not vain, or too proud to accept a friend of lesser quality.
It may sound pretentious, but it’s not all about looks and glamor. In fact, my friend aged well. Not changing much at all over the years.
They say that we always remember someone for having one outstanding quality. In this case, it has to be dependability, although like all of us when we get old, we do burn out.
My friend was indeed dependable. Always there when needed. Even when not. Ready at a moments notice should I beckon. All parts of a quality we wish each of our friends have.
Saying goodbye is never easy.
Lord knows the pain we all feel when we lose a loved one, but in this case, we all had plenty of time to say our good byes and wish my friend well.
Health wasn’t an issue.
Nor was age.
My friend’s death wasn’t an accident.
My friend was killed but nobody is crying.
Not even me.
I do feel a sense of anger, but the government killed my friend and like so many things in life that government tries to control, it’s out of my hands and there was nothing I could do.
I’ll look back on those 42 years we spent together, coming home from work, flipping on the switch and being greeted by the warm glow only a 60 watt incandescent bulb could provide.
As lawmakers with nothing better to do with their time huddled in Washington pondering over the fate of the lightbulb we’ve all grown up with, we’re now forced into buying ridiculously priced bulbs that will never provide the same type of glow and warmth the old incandescent could.
Don’t argue with me there, you’re not going to win.
Today’s new fangled bulbs don’t contain the tungsten filament that burns a hot orange and keeps the power companies happy. They’re more efficient, experts say.
Who cares about efficiency?
I certainly don’t.
I don’t even separate my trash and recycle, why should I care about a lightbulb?
As those who are elected to look out for the betterment of our nation pull the plug on 40 and 60 watt incandescent bulbs on January 1st, I’ll make one last effort to remember a friend who served all of us well since the time of Thomas Edison.
Like an old lady running to the grocery store to buy milk, bread and eggs before a snowstorm, I’ll be scooping up what I can of the remaining stock of my friend the incandescent.
I’m sure I won’t be alone. Because as well all know, it’s hard to say goodbye to an old friend.
And even harder to find a good replacement.