Hot Flashes – ‘One Door Closes . . .

. . . and another one opens.” That is what some philosophizers muse about life’s opportunities. Carol Burnett said it about her career, and others have looked back upon one job lost just before a better one came along.

With that in mind, we are not supposed to fear the sound of a metaphoric “slam.” I have never quite had that experience, however, because it seems that doors in my life slam shut, or maybe just revolve; money in, bills out. Or revolve with the perpetual child/grandchild that is enamored by the spinning door so that a goofy, toothless urchin goes around until someone from security comes to rescue all.

Real doors and real slams, of course, are another story. I remember the sound of some meaning great news. When I was little, it meant that my cousin was available to come out and play. Without the sound of that back screen door, I was cautioned that they were still doing boring grownup things like eating and doing dishes. “Slam!” meant fun in the sun and more important things to do that our grandmother would disapprove of.

Later as a teen, I had a crush on the cute boy next door. The sound of that slam was great, grand, and titillating. It meant he was leaving his house to head for the souped up car with no muffler, slicking his hair in Elvis-like strokes. Ah, “slam!” went the car door, belch went the pistons, and my heart was throbbing.

But wait. It was only the cute boy’s mother at the back door watering her flowers. Or even worse, his sister with ugly glasses who didn’t like the way I pined for him in my back yard. So there was great disappointment at the sound of that particular “slam!” I would have to wait for another significant noise another day. If only he knew how important that door was to my heart.

My heart throbs no more, except that doors had better keep out the flies and keep the heat during the winter. If a door does not work exactly right, it is possible to sacrifice all creature comforts. You may as well pitch a tent and swat flying things.

One teensy-weensy storm door part broke recently, and my whole life was on hold. It was that pesky five-cent part that holds it (click) shut. So one wisp of wind, and the thing flapped shamelessly against the side of the house. A wisp from the other direction, and it slammed the other way. Finally, a goofy male fixed it. He wasn’t the cute one of yester-slam, but adequate to fix the small part and big problem.

Another slam problem is that I might be on the outside trying to get in. Metaphorically, I was always the outsider of the in-crowd. Or the outsider knocking to get into a job that everyone else seems to have. But the worst outside door problem is literal when a certain three-year-old grandson is fiddling with locks on the inside -- just for fun, of course – and I am turning pale to think of the consequences of being locked out.

Well, it didn’t actually happen, but flashed through my mind for the moment that being on the wrong side of his door could be a major problem, especially at the only time all day without my cell phone. This same enterprising grandson once locked his dad out of the truck and calmly ate a stash of chocolate before opening the door.

The way I see it, one door closes and the cute boy goes away, everyone else has a good job, no one will come out and play, the flies stay in and grandsons turn into chocolate clowns. Other than that, it’s a great opportunity.

Can you relate? If you would like to comment on Hot Flashes, Sue can be reached via E-mail at thewritehag@yahoo.com, or pa@pacc-news.com.