I’m writing about my penchant for pushing buttons, I wish to say I do not refer to a technique aimed at angering your girlfriend, rather I refer to a real physical button like that pushed to turn on the clothes dryer. This interest dates to early childhood and I don’t know the genesis other than to say I suppose we all come into this world with oddities. The underlying fascination for me has always been the question,” I wonder what that does?”

To get things started I shall recount a bloody tale as warning to others that my button pushing practice doesn’t always finish well. I reckon I was about four years old, and we had just returned from the grocer. My mother was trying to manage not only hyperactive me, but my sister a year younger, and my brother a year older—along with the bags from the store. I stood outside the car looking the through the opening that is created between car’s front fender and door’s edge when the passenger door is in the open position. I could see the hinges, various screws, and a button. At my tender age I didn’t realize the risk inherent in inserting my finger into this gap to push the button to see what it controlled. I remember being pleased as the dome light turned off and then back on as I released the spring-loaded button. That sense of pleasure quickly departed when my mother tried to slam the door shut. I remember watching my mangled finger begin to bleed, yet somehow, I didn’t have sufficient air in lungs to cry out. My poor mother tried once or twice more to close the door not realizing the impediment was my small digit. Finally, I screamed, and my mom opened the door and as tears flowed down each of our faces, she examined the end of my finger that was now dangling—only a thin strip of skin kept it from falling to the ground. I was transported to the local hospital where a kindly policeman tried to take my mind off my damaged finger by showing me the gear that hung from his belt. Fortunately, the doctor who tended to my wound saved my finger though I still bare scar to remind me of that day.

In another incident, when on vacation with my family, we were visiting a museum. A guide was taking a group of us from area to area. She was in the midst of explaining what was on display when I spied two buttons on the wall. A little voice in my head was saying,” don’t do it Michael,” but as it has long been said, curiosity killed the cat, and in this case my father almost killed me. Yes, I pressed button and when I did the motor connected to security gate started and said gate started to lower. Naturally this interrupted guide’s speech and all eyes turned to me—if looks could kill I wouldn’t be walking the earth today. After the disruption the gate was raised, and the tour continued. Needless to say, I was on my best behavior for the balance of the vacation.

Much later when working as co-op engineer, I was attempting to make a change to the control system on one of the production lines. This would be accomplished by altering the current ladder logic and uploading the revision. I was new at this and misunderstood what could be done “on the fly” and what could only be done when the line was shutdown. I studied the screen carefully and came to conclusion I was safe to press the upload button. Almost instantaneously the line stopped moving and multiple lamps which were in process were ruined as a result. With the help of the folks working on the line, we cleaned things up and got the line restarted. I had to explain my error to the plant manager and how I would handle things in the future. It was a humbling experience.

Given the examples above, one would think I would never push another button, but the world is full of buttons, so I have learned to push with care. As when I recently installed a new garage opener and upon completion happily pushed the button to open the door and watched as it behaved exactly as desired—no close-call amputations or unexpected interruptions.