The Miracle Menorah
It's time for the annual telling of my "Miracle Menorah" story.
When I worked at public radio station WAER, in addition to raising the money, finding underwriters, doing all publicity, writing promo and underwriting spots -- sometimes producing them and logging them, and helping out in the news department from time to time, I was in charge of decorating the office for the holidays. Get the tree, trim the tree, be able to answer the Kwanzaa questions my boss threw at me -- "Imani, abaregani, asanti sana" -- and setting up our flimsy and admittedly very cheesy electric menorah.
One year I pulled it out, plugged it in, and only seven bulbs lit up. I took out the one that was not working and replaced it with one that was working, but nada. Still no light. So, we had a menorah with seven lights instead of eight. I was a bit busy -- no time to run out and buy a new one, so we dealt with the one we had. It would be no problem initially anyway, since I purposely loosened the bulbs and tightened up one more each day. It was only going to be an issue on day eight as I saw it. Even still, every day I tested that bulb, and every day it steadfastly remained dark.
The eighth day of Hanukkah arrived. I walked into the office, turned on the Christmas tree lights, looked up the Kwanzaa word of the day, and plugged in the menorah. Seven lights were glowing from the prior day. With my "ye of little faith" sense of hopelessness, I tightened the final heretofore dark bulb.
It lit up.
Eight lights were glowing on our menorah!
"It's a miracle!" I shouted to the morning announcer, who stared back at me through the glass with a perplexed look. "We have a miracle menorah!" I danced around, unable to contain myself. What force of the universe decided that on that day of all days, that stubborn little bulb would finally light up?
And that, my friends, is the true story of the WAER miracle menorah. I love that that little bulb refused to light up until the eighth day; otherwise I would not have a Hanukkah story to share each year.
Happy Hanukkah to one and all!
When I worked at public radio station WAER, in addition to raising the money, finding underwriters, doing all publicity, writing promo and underwriting spots -- sometimes producing them and logging them, and helping out in the news department from time to time, I was in charge of decorating the office for the holidays. Get the tree, trim the tree, be able to answer the Kwanzaa questions my boss threw at me -- "Imani, abaregani, asanti sana" -- and setting up our flimsy and admittedly very cheesy electric menorah.
One year I pulled it out, plugged it in, and only seven bulbs lit up. I took out the one that was not working and replaced it with one that was working, but nada. Still no light. So, we had a menorah with seven lights instead of eight. I was a bit busy -- no time to run out and buy a new one, so we dealt with the one we had. It would be no problem initially anyway, since I purposely loosened the bulbs and tightened up one more each day. It was only going to be an issue on day eight as I saw it. Even still, every day I tested that bulb, and every day it steadfastly remained dark.
The eighth day of Hanukkah arrived. I walked into the office, turned on the Christmas tree lights, looked up the Kwanzaa word of the day, and plugged in the menorah. Seven lights were glowing from the prior day. With my "ye of little faith" sense of hopelessness, I tightened the final heretofore dark bulb.
It lit up.
Eight lights were glowing on our menorah!
"It's a miracle!" I shouted to the morning announcer, who stared back at me through the glass with a perplexed look. "We have a miracle menorah!" I danced around, unable to contain myself. What force of the universe decided that on that day of all days, that stubborn little bulb would finally light up?
And that, my friends, is the true story of the WAER miracle menorah. I love that that little bulb refused to light up until the eighth day; otherwise I would not have a Hanukkah story to share each year.
Happy Hanukkah to one and all!
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