Beware the Bar of Unconsciousness!

Behold "The Bar of Unconsciousness."

As a child, I simply called it my chin-up bar. However, with the passage of time, I recognize that history will distinguish it more for the many times it rendered people unconscious, or at least *nearly* unconscious. It was also a pretty prodigious profanity generator as well.

Although I have been out of my parents' home for twenty years, the bar still stands. As you can see, my children love it when they visit Grandma and Grandpa.

When I first got it and put it across my bedroom doorway, the top of my head was far below it. As I grew, somehow, instinct took over and I simply ducked my head automatically to prevent whacking it. My parents were the same way (except for the first painful couple of weeks). And they still are. I wonder how many thousands of times they have ducked under the bar without even being aware of it?

Visitors to the house, however, are entirely another matter.

The sound of bar meeting noggin is quite distinctive. It's a combination of "CLANK" and "THUNK" with a brief vibrational tone tossed in.

It's at forehead level for the average adult, and just above eye level. It's deceptively easy for people to walk right into it without ever seeing it.

Like the older gentleman who used to tune our piano. As the story goes, he was making a visit to our washroom, and was passing by my bedroom. He noticed the fish tank at the other end of my room. (Ironically, the tank was empty and no longer used. I guess we just left it there as a snare to draw in more hapless victims...) He said something like, "Oh.. fish!" and attempted to enter the room.

THWANKKKKK. I don't think he ever heard a note like that on any of the pianos he worked on!

From his new position on the floor, this mild-mannered gentleman said something like, "WHAT THE &%$@ IS THAT???"

Other than ringing his bell pretty good, he wasn't hurt. Which is why my Dad and I laugh our asses off whenever we periodically revisit that story.

I even laughed out loud typing this post. Ahhh, other people's mishaps are so good for the soul.