The Power of Blue Eyes

There are two things my friend Warren loves, Howard Johnson’s and antiques. His house is a contrast in styles, the main living space which is full of country, primitive and fine antiques including the kitchen with a 1920’s stove and 1935 General Electric Monitor top refrigerator and the HoJo’s room which has Howard Johnson artifacts from the thirties, through the mid century modern era to the seventies right before the HoJo’s started disappearing. Now many people think Howard Johnson’s is an antique given that there are only two HoJo restaurants left in America, one is Lake George, NY and the second in Bangor, Maine.
Being that we are only an hour from Bangor Warren thought we should go and visit a real Howard Johnson’s and eat fried clams since he felt like the kale salad I was cooking at his HoJo’s was not very traditional fare for the turquoise and orange. So off we went this morning after visiting the town dump to drop off the trash and recycling. Oh what excitement here in Maine.
We pulled into the restaurant, without an orange roof, with only one other car in the parking lot. I was a little worried about the future of this HoJo’s, but after a lovely meal sitting at the counter we learned that there was an interested buyer who wanted to revive the Howard Johnson’s brand in Bangor.

  
Full and satisfied we left to head home, but true to Warren’s nature we veered into a few antique stores we passed on the way. I browsed as Warren struck up conversations with store owner’s quizzing them about their knowledge of antique refrigerators. See, Warren’s beloved Monitor top, which is his primary cooling device is somewhat on the fritz. After many a call to repairmen and much searching of the Internet he was yet to find someone to work on his prized machine. At one stop a nice woman said there was an appliance store in town that had vintage appliances in the window, so off we went to talk to yet another person.

  
While sitting in the service department with young Andrew who could not fix Warren’s fridge himself, but who was keen to help he finally said that Warren needed to go visit Al, at General Appliance around the block because he could fix anything. So off we went. At this point I feel like I had learned enough about vintage refrigerators to be able to fix it myself, if only I had the parts.
Right around the block must mean different things to Mainers than it does to southerners and eventually we found a building that was named Picket Appliance that we assumed was the right place. Outside the building sat strange looking stoves from Brands I had never heard of and when we entered the building it was full of one type of fridge, one that does not need electricity. In the corner was a composting toilet. We were not in Kansas anymore.
A woman approached us, Warren in his polo shirt and I in my pink peddle pushers were not the normal customers for this store. Warren asked to speak to Al and the woman protectively said he was unavailable, we assumed the man on the phone at the counter in the rail road engineer cap with the curly grey hair sticking out beneath was someone else.
Warren described his old fridge dilemma and as soon as the woman decided we were not tax collectors or FBI agents she said that Al could help us as soon as he finished on the phone. Such screening for an appliance repair guy.
Warren introduced himself to Al and began to tell his tale of woe. Al made some comment that Warren should be fine if he had me as a wife. We laughed and Warren made a comment about the fact that I was another man’s wife and the investigation about if Al could help continued. Warren was feeling like he was finally making some real headway as Al described possible fixes for Warren’s sick machine. Then in the middle of a sentence Al stopped short and looked at me and said, “has anyone ever told you you have the bluest eyes?”
That was it! Warren was furious that Al had lost his train of thought about the difference in compressor or electrical issue and it was all my fault for standing there with my eyes open. In the end it was fine since Al said he could help Warren in the winter, when his busy season was over. Turns out Al’s business is to supply appliances to people who live mainly off the grid. It was clear to me as Al described his customers that I was probably the only female he ever saw outside the old woman who worked for him and that I was certainly the cleanest. Warren says I may have to return to Maine when he takes the fridge to Bangor for Al to repair so I can ensure good service.