Midwest Memo
Owner's manual
by Alan Shultz

Last week I was the beneficiary of a very nice hand me down. It's a Bose radio with quite a bit of listening mileage on it - it was purchased in the early '90s.

The radio was handed to me quite unceremoniously in a shopping bag complete with original receipt and owner's manual. The Bose is so simple and self contained that I brought it home, plugged it in, hit "on" and commenced listening.

The only task left undone was to find a home for the owner's manual. Those pesky little manuals have a way of hiding when you need them. I surveyed the lay of the land and decided to tuck the manual under the radio. I reasoned that there was no better place to keep the manual than with the radio itself.

Upon arriving home, my wife questioned me about the radio sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. I explained the origin of the unexpected gift and proceeded to give her a sample listen. She proceeded to suggest the kitchen table was not going to work for the Bose's new home.

I once again surveyed the household landscape and determined that the radio would do nicely on the end table next to the sofa in the living room. A little rearranging of the objects on the end table yielded space for the Bose. The rearranging also required unplugging the answering machine and moving it slightly.

Our answering machine must have been manufactured in France because whenever I unplug it the message portion of the machine reverts to speaking French. Whenever this occurs it confuses both friends and family and even I wonder if I have the right place when I phone home. Fortunately I learned early to keep the owner's manual for the answering machine right under the machine itself. At first my wife objected to what she referred to as clutter. I explained it was either this set-up or we had to learn French in order to translate the message we were broadcasting to friends, family and telemarketers. Who knows what that machine has been saying to our callers over the years.

Positioning the Bose and moving the answering machine meant that the Art Deco clock on the end table had to move across the room. This particular clock is an old 1950s-looking electric, motor run contraption. It has a sweep second hand on it and the thing makes a nice little hum. I suspect that the clock predates the concept of an owner's manual for every purchase. In order to restart the clock after unplugging it, the clock requires a counterclockwise spin of a dial on the back of the timepiece. The instructions for this counterclockwise spin are printed on a metal stamped piece attached to the back. If not for this permanent abbreviated owner's manual,

this clock would have been

tossed out long ago with the erroneous assumption that it didn't work.

Of course tucking the owner's manual under the object is not always possible. We received a cute looking Dirt Devil vacuum for a Christmas gift this year. The vacuum is designed to look like an art object, rather than a device for cleaning. Somehow, without explanation, the owner's manual for the Dirt Devil landed in with our monthly mortgage coupons - and there it stays. And when we did our income taxes last month, we found a surprise hiding amongst the assorted receipts saved for tax deductions. There with the "meals and entertaining" was the owner's manual for my wife's Conair hair dryer.

I suppose there's no one right answer for how to manage one's owner's manuals. Somewhere in the household we have a file marked "owner's manuals." The last time I rummaged through that file I didn't find much help. It was more like a trip down appliance memory lane.

And in case I can assist anyone out there who needs instructions for an electric carving knife, just call. I've got owner's manuals for 11 of them dating back three decades. And yes, should you need it, I have the turkey carving owner's manual in French.