No. 243 – Jacob’s Ladder

Performer: Rush

Songwriters: Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, Neil Peart

Original Release: Permanent Waves

Year: 1980

Definitive Version: Exit … Stage Left, 1981.

So, yeah, being in Municipal Stadium for The Who in 1989 was a cathartic event for my sister, let alone myself. We didn’t always share emotionally gratifying moments. Sometimes we didn’t even connect—literally.

Take for instance a particular summer night in 1982 or 1983. I can’t remember precisely when, but I know it was at a time when Rush, to whom Jin introduced me—this song in particular—was in heavy rotation. Dad and Laura were going somewhere, and they asked me to spend the night at their house with Jin, so she wouldn’t have to be by herself. No problem, or so I thought.

I was out late doing God knows what. If I had to guess, I would suspect I was trying for the umpteenth time to persuade Beth that Billy Joel was right. When I arrived at Dad and Laura’s house, all the lights were off, and Jin was (presumably) asleep. That wasn’t a problem; I could get the spare key hidden in the garage and let myself in when I arrived.

But this is where it got hairy, because there was a bit of a trick to unlocking the back door to Dad and Laura’s house. You had to pull the key back out and lift it just enough to flip the tumbler. With enough practice, it was easy, but I did it rarely enough that I didn’t have enough practice and constantly struggled with it.

And that’s what I did that night. I got the key, no problem, taking care to not wake the neighbors when I raised the garage door. I worked the key and worked it and worked it, but no matter what, I could not get the door unlocked. Fortunately, the key also worked for the side door, which was easier to open … as long as the latch to the door wasn’t secured, which it was that night. Great. (The key didn’t work to the front door.)

OK, I have to wake up Jin, because I’m locked out of the house. I pressed the doorbell. Nothing. You’re kidding me: The doorbell is broken? Evidently. I knocked, but no one came to the door. Come on. Where’s Keiki? She should hear this and start barking.

I drove to a gas station and called the house from a pay phone. (Kids: Those existed before everyone carried his or her own phone with them at all times.) I let the phone ring and ring and ring. No answer. I tried again to no avail.

I suppose I could have just gone home at this point, but I promised Dad and Laura I’d take care of Jin. Nothing seemed amiss, so I had no need to call the cops. I was just a little leery that the cops would be called on me.

There was only solution as I saw it: I pulled into the driveway and slept in my car. If anything bad happened, I’d at least be there.

Needless to say—but I’ll say it anyway—I got maybe four or five hours’ sleep that night. Once it was light out, I hit upon a brilliant idea that either hadn’t occurred to me the night before or struck me as being a bad idea in the dead of night: I got Dad’s extension ladder and climbed up on the den. I then could knock on the window to Jin’s room.

When I peered in, I could see she was asleep in bed, with Keiki shut up in her room. Well, that explained why Keiki didn’t hear the knocking on the door. I rapped on the window, and Keiki immediately started barking. Jin sprung up as if this was perfectly normal to hear knocking on her window and walked out of her room. Before long, she was at the back door.

I said I was locked out the whole night. What? Yeah, I tried calling. Oh yeah, Jin said sheepishly. I heard the phone ring, and it bothered me, so I just unplugged it from the wall, which, of course, is exactly what you’re supposed to do with a ringing telephone, amirite? Well, that certainly took care of the annoying ringing. So … the knocking on your bedroom window didn’t startle you? Nah, she said, I just thought when I heard it, oh, Will’s here and he needs to get in.

To her credit, Jin sleeps less soundly now and is more alert when she awakes in the middle of the night. That’s what being a Mom will do for you.