02/10/2026
Little Jimmie and Friends – The Drop Cord
Background, 2 houses, 4 living units, built by Jimmie’s great-grandfather for his 4 daughters. The first unit was Great Aunt Addie; her daughter Eloise and husband Al, sometimes Al’s father “Pop” would visit for a period. Jimmie lived in the last unit which had been his grandmother’s.
This was Jimmie’s second home, no children in the house so a good place to get spoiled if mom was busy at home. Glass of Pepsi, something not available at home, maybe a liverwurst sandwich or some of Uncle Al’s stinky cheese.
Uncle Al was often at work; he wasn’t the sort of guy that had much to say to the neighborhood kids anyway. Well, it wasn’t that he disliked kids, they were just too young, he couldn’t offer them a cigar and a beverage and talk man talk.
For whatever reason he was home and doing something in the garage behind the house where all sorts of junk was stored. Jimmie was likely being a nuisance as usual asking too many questions when Uncle Al had work to do.
Uncle Al gave Jimmie a drop cord. Jimmie expects this was meant as a play toy, “here kid, take this and go play, I’m busy” comes to mind. Then again chances are it was heading for the trash heap and Jimmie insisted that he needed it badly for the spaceship he planned to build in the backyard.
A description of a drop cord in those days was a bulb in a pull socket, connected to a couple of green cloth covered twisted wires with a plug on the end, usually one of those old sorts of round top plugs that were difficult to grip with your fingers.
This was a useless toy destined for the trash heap not intended to be used for its original purpose, but why would Jimmie throw away a good drop cord. No, Jimmie went straight home, to try out his new treasure.
In through the kitchen door and there was electrical receptacle that was at eye level beside the telephone shelf. Ah, let’s jam the plug here and see if the light bulb is still good.
Unfortunately, it didn’t work so well. Zapp, sparks, smoke, and now mom’s white wall was black with soot, and the kitchen lights no longer worked. Perhaps Jimmie should have consulted mom first but being impulsive it just wasn’t Jimmie’s style to slow down and ask questions.
Too many years ago. Jimmie doesn’t remember who changed the fuse that was up high on the kitchen ceiling. The wall was eventually washed and became mostly white again. Maybe Jimmie gained a little respect for electricity. Perhaps dad was home to fix the fuse and teach Jimmie how to check the wires as not too many years later Jimmie rewired a lamp for his Sunday School teacher.
