The Changing Of Light Bulbs

By Jim Hagarty
1991

I think one of the simplest and best ways to get a really good idea of just how complicated our world is becoming is to spend a few minutes in the light-bulb section of a building-supplies store.

A half hour spent contemplating what has happened to artificial light can give a person more insight into what’s happening to people than five years in a university sociology course. In the old days, a bulb was a bulb. There were two kinds – incandescent and fluorescent. The incandescent was the most popular and came in a limited range of wattages from seven (Christmas lights) to several hundred. Fluorescents came in long thin tubes and circular tubes.

That was about it. Oh, you had your special-purpose bulbs for fridges and aquariums but you’d be hard-pressed to have a personal crisis trying to decide what kind to buy. Into the shopping cart with the cornflakes and the cookies would go a package or two of 40-watters and 60-watters and when one burned out, it would be promptly replaced with another.

In fact, changing a light bulb was so easy way back when that it became a favourite theme for jokes. “How many cigar-store owners does it take to change a light bulb?” would go the question. Today, that joke is quickly becoming as obsolete as the 100-watt bulb because nothing is simple about lighting any more.

There are compact fluorescent bulbs which screw into the same sockets as their incandescent cousins and use about one quarter of the electricity. But they come in a dozen shapes and sizes and wattages. There are halogen bulbs which use less energy while giving a stronger, whiter light but they have their own special uses and requirements. There are “warm white” fluorescent tubes which soften the perceived coldness of the traditional “neon” tubes. Then there are energy-saving fluorescent tubes which use 34 watts instead of 40 and 18 instead of 20. There are also energy-saving incandescent bulbs that use 52 watts instead of 60, and 90 watts rather than 100.

It is possible now and very easy to rig all lights, both inside and out, to come on when it gets dark and to go off when the sun comes up. Also available are lights that come on when they sense motion. There are also solar lights for the back yard. There are even solar flashlights. Then there are low-wattage “moonray” lights for decks and patios.

We are a nation obsessed with beating back the darkness. How on earth do the Old Order Amish get by?

But then in the old days, there were only a few types of people, too. Specialization had not yet set in. There were men and women. Boys and girls. Old people. And young people. That was about it.
Now we come in so many shapes and sizes and descriptions, it is hard to fit the person to the purpose. Like the light-bulb section of the supermarket, we are grouped into categories according to our special abilities and needs, functions and limitations. We prefer to be known by how we differ from the other bulbs on the shelf.

But through all this energy we’re using and expending, is our light getting brighter? Or burning out?

How many people of the ’90s does it take to change a light bulb?

One.

He just holds the bulb and the whole world revolves around him.

And how many folksingers does it take to change a light bulb? Two. One to change the bulb and one to write a song about how great the old bulb was.


In the nineties, I changed almost every bulb in our house from incandescent to fluorescent. Now, in 2017, I am almost done switching all my compact fluorescents to the amazing LED bulbs. They are cheaper to buy and operate and they last as long as one of my sweatshirts which is about 20 years.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.