Last Thanksgiving day my dad went through the Chicago Tribune ads (a normal off-work routine) and pointed to a remote-controlled helicopter in the Ace Hardware ad saying, “Now THAT is a doorbuster deal! I think I’m going to go get one of those tomorrow.” My mom and I laughed it off–the thought of my dad in the backyard with a remote-controlled device added to the fact that no one in our household ever steps foot near a retail store on Black Friday was worth a chuckle.
But the next day he came home with a 3-foot long bock and there was great joy as he unpacked is new helicopter and chased it around the back yard. He was like a little kid–and my mom and I, still dumbfounded that he’d followed up on what we thought was a joke, couldn’t help but peak our heads out the window to watch.
After an hour or so of what might compare to “red-rider-BB-gun bliss” the helicopter landed on the roof of the house. In an attempt to make it air-born again the ‘copter ended up on its side, unable to rotate the blade, which immediately broke.
The joy was gone.
When he took it to be fixed a few months later the repair shop told him that the counterweight–the part that had broken–was the only non-fixable part of the remote control helicopter.
This Christmas, while opening presents at my brother’s home there was great surprise (and irony) when my brother opened a 3-foot long box from his in-laws. “Thanks for the remote control helicopter,” my brother said. “Those things are great. Just be sure not to break the counter-weight,” my dad warned.