“Maybe it opens a hidden door to a secret room,” the woman said. The man rolled his eyes.
“Better would be a secret compartment filled with cash,” the man said. (Dream on, kids)
“I’ve read about those secret safe rooms. Wouldn’t that be cool?” The woman watched a lot of television.
“Maybe it sounded a buzzer in the kitchen for the wife to bring the husband a beer,” the man grinned.
“You can dream on,” his wife said.
The real function was far more mundane but no less crazy. I told Dad I could hear this dialogue in my mind; the future owners of his house having this conversation in the years to come when they discovered his button. To them, the button would likely remain a mystery forever, discussed on occasion when a new theory for the whodunit arose.
The button, an old fashioned door bell was connected to the garage door opener for Dad’s car. Not willing to wait the five seconds, maybe, for the door to go up once he reached the garage when responding to a fire, he installed it when the house was built. When the Plectron went off (remember those?) he would reach into the closet as he finished dressing, hand knowing the way, and push the button. By the time he reached the garage, the door was fully open. Speed and efficiency out of the house didn’t happen by accident.
“Maybe it was a panic or emergency alarm, like the buttons in a bank,” the woman would say, the mystery continuing.
“I still like the beer idea,” the man would offer.
“I told you, dream on.”