Published: July 05, 2009 11:23 pm      

MICHELE M. BENDER | No cause for alarm

If sleep was an Olympic event, I’d be a gold medalist.

After years of teaching, rising before the crack of dawn, I’ve earned the luxury of “sleeping in.” These days, dawn cracks at my house around 9 or 10.

Last Tuesday, however, dawn cracked about 8:30 a.m. when someone’s car alarm went off.

Now, I’m usually talented at going back to sleep, but this alarm sounded for 14 (Yes, I counted them) minutes and, by then, sleep was forgotten. I spent the rest of the day yawning.

This little incident reminded me of my former neighborhood.

Neighbors who traveled extensively had an elaborate security system installed in their home. Apparently, it had flaws, lots of flaws.

The alarm went off if a rabbit burped. A shrill, screeching siren echoed through the alley.

Only the police could disarm it. Sometimes the blast lasted 20 minutes or more.

The first car I owned with an alarm was a Chrysler Concorde named Scarlett (I name my cars!). Scarlett was smarter than me, a quality I both respect and require in a car.

Scarlett had an electronic gizmo to unlock doors, featuring a panic button. If I ever felt threatened, alone in a dark parking lot, I could press the button and Scarlett would flash her lights and sound her horn. She would protect me.

One evening, I took my two aunts on an outing. When we returned to their nursing home, a prayer service was in progress in the living room.

I parked Scarlett and popped her trunk. I unloaded walkers, escorting each aunt safely to the elevator.

As I walked out, I heard a commotion. “Must be an emergency,” I thought. “I’d best move Scarlett quickly!”

Then I saw Scarlett’s flashing headlights. WE were the commotion! I’d accidently bumped the panic button on the keys in my dress pocket.

I glanced at the living room window. The prayer service had ground to a halt.

The best alarm story ever belongs to my friend Sharon.

Sharon and her family moved to Harrisburg in 1982. Her son, Eric, was 4.

Harrisburg grocery stores differ from ours. Sharon visited markets one at a time to decide which she liked best.

One afternoon, she and Eric went to Giant, which was, well … gigantic. As she paused to read a label, Eric bolted.

Sharon dashed through the store, checking every aisle for her mischievous son.

Suddenly, a blasting alarm shook the building.

An announcement boomed, “Shoppers, please leave the building.”

Sharon, of course, didn’t leave. She found Eric, flanked by store personnel, standing by the door to a restricted area.

“Eric, what were you thinking?” she scolded. “The sign says, ‘Alarm sounds when door is opened.’ ”

“Mom,” Eric answered, “I’m only 4. You know I can’t read yet!”