A Gift for Mom and Dad: Freeplay Flashlights.

It's been 13 years since I have found a gift for either of my parents that they actually liked. (It was a giant spatula, if you want to know, from New Orleans - my father still talks about it wistfully - the time I did right). Sadly, he doesn't want any more spatulas. In fact, neither of my parents seem to want anything.  They are 80 years old, and things - even nice things, hold very little appeal. A "nifty" CD player my brother bought them for Christmas a six years ago still has carols in it. Never been touched.

I wrote in this blog a few weeks back that I bought my parents sturdy, self-charging, crank powered LED flashlights for their anniversary to avert tripping and swearing.  A couple of days ago, I gave it to them. Truth is, I was worried, because I wasn't sure they needed it. My parents are pretty rugged folks. They still trek to the cottage in the summer, where,  in addition to dirt roads and long treks to civilization, the power goes out from time to time. I think of them as prepared. They have flashlights. Plenty of them. So there was a risk they would look at me with that withering look of disapproval reserved for disappointing high school boyfriend choices and say, "Well, isn't that a nice addition to the room..."  while their brains hummed with clever re-gifting thoughts.

Despite that fear, here's why I bought my parents the Freeplay Flashlight Emergency Center: My parents' flashlights are unnaturally light when you pick them up. This is not a trick of technology. It is a sad fact. Their flashlights almost never actually have batteries in them. If they do, the flashlights still don't work, because the bulbs are dead. There's something about a dead flashlight bulb that causes paralysis. You can't throw out the whole flashlight - that's wasteful. And you can't replace that dinky little bulb - you can't even get your fingers around it. Finding a working flashlight in their cottage is like finding a ring dropped into a mud-bottom lake. It's been done. And celebrated.

I gave them their gift, heart in hand, waiting for the polite nod and the very careful setting aside of the untouched box so that it could look like new when some unsuspecting lunch guest is presented with a door prize.  Here's what happened instead:

Mom: What is it?
Dad: Looks like
Mom: Flashlights in a row.
Dad: that work
Me: (sounding remarkably similar to a dish soap sales person) They charge, so they're always ready, and there's this light that goes on when the power is out so you can find them.  And they crank...
Mom: Put it up.
Dad: How 'bout the utility room
Mom: Now. By the beer frig. Dear. Put it up.
Dad: (Goofy smile). Thank you.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.