My Sure-Fire Plan For Dispelling Burglars At Night
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The repeated news reports almost everyday about the incessant break-ins, and often about the heinous crimes committed by the burglar-turned robbers on the life and body of the innocent and defenseless people in the house, at night in particular, made me much worried about the safety of my family, and consequently compelled me to take my own security measures independent of police protection. One evening last week after supper I summoned my family members to my room to discuss this important and urgent matter.
However, from the beginning, I had to suffer disappointment and frustration. None of them showed enough concern or alertness commensurate with my sense of crisis. Of course they knew in advance what was going to be talked about. But they were all busy and preoccupied with their own business. They would not gather at my room promptly to begin with.
My wife, who should be concerned more about the possible danger, and should display more willingness to participate in this kind of meeting than anyone else, was just busy and happy in the kitchen washing dishes as usual, and my old mother was just hooked on her favorite evening program on TV. The three daughters who are in their teens were all at their desk doing something, probably homework, showed no signs of budging from their place at all. I felt a lump of anger rising from the bottom of my stomach. How could they be so carefree? I roared. They stopped their work unwillingly and came and sat before me slowly and reluctantly.
I felt a little bit stupid for being angry for nothing. I restored my composure and explained in a grave voice of the rampant crimes, and solemnly declared the purpose of the present meeting and asked each of them to come up with some good, wise, and practical ways and means for the effective protection of the house and family against the possible invasions of the burglars, especially at night. None would open their mouth for a while. Each seemed more concerned with the business they had left behind and just eager to return to it as soon as possible. I waited a few more minutes holding back my growing exasperation.
At last my old mother opened her mouth just to break the ice of silence. "We are lucky that we are not living in an area where nothing like those deplorable things have ever happened," said she. "Yes, we are. So far. But we must be prepared for the worst that could happen," I commented. "Suppose a burglar should break in tonight and ask for money pointing a knife at one of us," said I looking at my youngest daughter assuming a really dreadful face. She was prompt in her reply. "We had better have some money prepared all the time for such an occasion," said she nonchalantly. Her two elder sisters were talking and laughing in complete oblivion as well as ignorance of the seriousness of the agenda.
I was about to vent my wrath for their indifference and inattention, when my wife said that the iron bolt on the front door was loose and some of the metal hooks on the windows were too old and rusty, and that they needed to be fixed and replaced. My eldest daughter read my discontented look and contributed an idea out of obligation. She said, "Leaving a light on all the night will show that we are not all in bed and sleeping."
Alone in my room after having dismissed the security council with no apparent result, I fell into a state of utter bewilderment and emptiness. The reaction and the enthusiasm my family showed for their own security in the presence of impending danger were far from the ones I had anticipated. I expected, for example, my daughters, and my old mother included, would volunteer to stand watch every night by turns. I hoped my wife would demand immediate installation of burglar alarms on every door and window.
But all my expectations and hopes went far and wide off the mark. They were just happy to be told to go back to their places. It was only I who felt threatened and endangered. What made me particularly sad and unhappy about the failure of the security meeting with my family was that my elaborate plan for emergency had also failed in being brought to daylight, and instead it was buried in the grave of my imagination for ever. I had drawn it in secret, with great study and special care. I am not going to reveal the whole of its details here and now, but just the outlines of my operation plan for the emergency.
With the ringing of the burglar alarm the operation begins. Each of the family members rushes to the assigned switch on the wall and turns on the lights making the entire house instantly as bright as broad daylight, and waits. If the burglar runs away as I expect him to, I call off the operation then and there, and let my soldiers go back to their bed. If, very unfortunately, he should attempt to enter my house despite the warning and the apparent readiness within, the operation moves up to its second phase: turn off all the lights immediately making the entire place pitch dark again! This tactics of darkness, as I code-named it, would surely baffle the hardest will of the invader because he would never know what kind of counter-attack he would meet in the dark silence.
In the meantime, my well-trained soldiers gather in my room without making any noise and prepare for the next action. There should usually be no need to resort to this our last and most deadly and sophisticated weapon: the bomb of voice. Imagine the five, nay, the six bombs of screaming meemies launched from the depth of the lung at one time by the mixed power of fear, desperation, anger, breaking the silence of the dead of night. "Burglar, burglar, burglar, burglar...." The Hitler's German soldiers could have dispelled the invasion of the allied forces on the Normandy beach on D-Day, if they had only known and prepared better, but never could even they have resisted this deadly shells exploding on the fine drums of their ears!
Nothing has changed and nothing has been done since the security meeting for the defense of the house. My idea of installing burglar alarms was flatly refused by my wife for economic reasons. She did not even approve the idea of leaving a light on during the night for the same reason. With my enterprise of great pitch and moment all waned, I go to bed every night in the full knowledge that the bolt on the front door is still loose, and the window hooks are all too rusty to be of any practical use.
(June 21, 1979)
However, from the beginning, I had to suffer disappointment and frustration. None of them showed enough concern or alertness commensurate with my sense of crisis. Of course they knew in advance what was going to be talked about. But they were all busy and preoccupied with their own business. They would not gather at my room promptly to begin with.
My wife, who should be concerned more about the possible danger, and should display more willingness to participate in this kind of meeting than anyone else, was just busy and happy in the kitchen washing dishes as usual, and my old mother was just hooked on her favorite evening program on TV. The three daughters who are in their teens were all at their desk doing something, probably homework, showed no signs of budging from their place at all. I felt a lump of anger rising from the bottom of my stomach. How could they be so carefree? I roared. They stopped their work unwillingly and came and sat before me slowly and reluctantly.
I felt a little bit stupid for being angry for nothing. I restored my composure and explained in a grave voice of the rampant crimes, and solemnly declared the purpose of the present meeting and asked each of them to come up with some good, wise, and practical ways and means for the effective protection of the house and family against the possible invasions of the burglars, especially at night. None would open their mouth for a while. Each seemed more concerned with the business they had left behind and just eager to return to it as soon as possible. I waited a few more minutes holding back my growing exasperation.
At last my old mother opened her mouth just to break the ice of silence. "We are lucky that we are not living in an area where nothing like those deplorable things have ever happened," said she. "Yes, we are. So far. But we must be prepared for the worst that could happen," I commented. "Suppose a burglar should break in tonight and ask for money pointing a knife at one of us," said I looking at my youngest daughter assuming a really dreadful face. She was prompt in her reply. "We had better have some money prepared all the time for such an occasion," said she nonchalantly. Her two elder sisters were talking and laughing in complete oblivion as well as ignorance of the seriousness of the agenda.
I was about to vent my wrath for their indifference and inattention, when my wife said that the iron bolt on the front door was loose and some of the metal hooks on the windows were too old and rusty, and that they needed to be fixed and replaced. My eldest daughter read my discontented look and contributed an idea out of obligation. She said, "Leaving a light on all the night will show that we are not all in bed and sleeping."
Alone in my room after having dismissed the security council with no apparent result, I fell into a state of utter bewilderment and emptiness. The reaction and the enthusiasm my family showed for their own security in the presence of impending danger were far from the ones I had anticipated. I expected, for example, my daughters, and my old mother included, would volunteer to stand watch every night by turns. I hoped my wife would demand immediate installation of burglar alarms on every door and window.
But all my expectations and hopes went far and wide off the mark. They were just happy to be told to go back to their places. It was only I who felt threatened and endangered. What made me particularly sad and unhappy about the failure of the security meeting with my family was that my elaborate plan for emergency had also failed in being brought to daylight, and instead it was buried in the grave of my imagination for ever. I had drawn it in secret, with great study and special care. I am not going to reveal the whole of its details here and now, but just the outlines of my operation plan for the emergency.
With the ringing of the burglar alarm the operation begins. Each of the family members rushes to the assigned switch on the wall and turns on the lights making the entire house instantly as bright as broad daylight, and waits. If the burglar runs away as I expect him to, I call off the operation then and there, and let my soldiers go back to their bed. If, very unfortunately, he should attempt to enter my house despite the warning and the apparent readiness within, the operation moves up to its second phase: turn off all the lights immediately making the entire place pitch dark again! This tactics of darkness, as I code-named it, would surely baffle the hardest will of the invader because he would never know what kind of counter-attack he would meet in the dark silence.
In the meantime, my well-trained soldiers gather in my room without making any noise and prepare for the next action. There should usually be no need to resort to this our last and most deadly and sophisticated weapon: the bomb of voice. Imagine the five, nay, the six bombs of screaming meemies launched from the depth of the lung at one time by the mixed power of fear, desperation, anger, breaking the silence of the dead of night. "Burglar, burglar, burglar, burglar...." The Hitler's German soldiers could have dispelled the invasion of the allied forces on the Normandy beach on D-Day, if they had only known and prepared better, but never could even they have resisted this deadly shells exploding on the fine drums of their ears!
Nothing has changed and nothing has been done since the security meeting for the defense of the house. My idea of installing burglar alarms was flatly refused by my wife for economic reasons. She did not even approve the idea of leaving a light on during the night for the same reason. With my enterprise of great pitch and moment all waned, I go to bed every night in the full knowledge that the bolt on the front door is still loose, and the window hooks are all too rusty to be of any practical use.
(June 21, 1979)
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