Before the Arc Lights

 
          
             “Be home before the arc lights come on!”


Those words governed evening behavior of kids throughout the neighborhood.


Though our streetlights were not true “arc lights”, our parents had grown up with arc lights. Those produced light as electricity arced* between two carbon electrodes. (*Both 'correct' spellings ['arced' or 'arcked'] are so ugly that we should declare them wrong and substitute their sibling, 'arched'.)


I am not sure that in conversation parents said “arc lights” any more often than than they said “street lights”. I am sure, however, that whenever they wanted to set the time we had to be off the streets and into the house they spoke only of “arc lights” .


The words worked. We knew that if we ignored the arc-light rule we might not be let out for a while. That was not a threat. My parents didn't threaten, they just acted according to standards we understood. They expected us to be worthy of their trust; most of the time we were.


In the depth of winter these about-to-light-up lights got kids home in time for supper. In summer, after supper and chores, “Be home before the arc lights … ” followed us as we ran out of the house to play. In spring and especially the fall they were harder words to live by.


I recall many a fall evening running fast toward home when, oops, the arc lights just came on. Now, the race changed purpose. I had to get there before it got really dark and before the last of my arc-light-curfewed older sisters got home.


I admit here what I never admitted as a little kid. When I was still young enough to worry about things lurking under my bed at night, some of my speed along the sidewalk in my solo races against darkness came because, with the arc lights on, trees cast shadows that spooked me. I remember a couple of times when I spooked enough to make myself jump over those shadows—one might hide some hideous creature or spirit. My fears did embarrass me. I hoped nobody was looking out a window to see me jump over shadows. I now suppose, however, since adults and older kids could not imagine what dangers lurked, if they did look out and see me they probably thought I was having fun.




(c) from date of posting, by Bob Komives, Fort Collins