When my neighbor wouldn’t turn off his bright floodlights at night, my husband and I needed a clever solution to keep the peace.
When the Thompsons moved in next door, they seemed friendly. My wife, Gia, and Susan, the neighbor, quickly bonded while chatting over unpacked boxes. We thought we finally had some neighbors our age to socialize with. Mark, the husband, was often away for work, while Susan stayed home and had a long list of phobias, including fear of the dark, thunderstorms, snakes, clowns, and spiders.
As time passed, Susan’s fear of the dark created an issue that affected Gia and me. Their floodlights, installed soon after they moved in, were excessively bright, like those outside prisons. Gia joked that they could probably be seen from space.
Despite our attempts to address the issue, Susan insisted she needed the lights on for safety when Mark was away. We tried thick curtains and rearranging our bedroom, but nothing helped. After a week of sleepless nights, I approached Susan, asking her to turn off the floodlights after midnight, as they shined directly into our bedroom. She explained her need for safety and refused my suggestion to install a timer.
After several attempts to reason with her and Mark, who felt similarly protective of Susan, we continued to lose sleep. Frustrated, I considered drastic measures, like unscrewing the bulbs or using a pellet gun, but Gia reminded me to stay calm. Instead, she suggested a harmless plan while she and Susan went out for nails.
The next day, I climbed a ladder and slightly unscrewed each bulb to disrupt the connection. That night, when Susan turned on the lights, they flickered and went out. Gia and I finally enjoyed peaceful sleep. Surprisingly, days turned into weeks, and the lights stayed off.
However, one day, I saw Mark fixing the bulbs again. The floodlights blazed back to life that night, and I knew I had to repeat my trick. This cycle continued for months—every time Mark tightened the bulbs, I loosened them.
Then one Saturday, as I trimmed the hedges, Mark approached me. He mentioned his floodlights kept going out, and I managed to keep a straight face while agreeing it might be due to vibrations from the street. I suggested he could leave them off, and he seemed to consider it. After that conversation, Gia and I enjoyed our peaceful, dark evenings once again.
Dan Haggerty, Who Played Grizzly Adams
Dan Haggerty, who gained widespread recognition for his portrayal of the kind mountain man with a striking beard and his bear friend Ben in the NBC television series and 1974 film “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams,” passed away on Friday in Burbank, California. His age was 73 years.
Terry Bomar, his manager and friend, stated that spinal cancer was the cause of death.
Dan Haggerty was creating a name for himself in Hollywood as an animal handler and stuntman before landing his famous part. When a producer requested him to appear in a few opening moments for a film about a woodsman and his bear, it was his big break. The plot, which is based on a novel by Charles Sellier Jr., centers on a man who flees to the woods after being wrongfully convicted of murder, becomes friends with the local wildlife, and takes in an abandoned bear.
Haggerty accepted to do the part, but he had one requirement: he had to appear in the whole film. Despite having a relatively low budget of $165,000, the film’s remake brought in close to $30 million at the box office. Because of this popularity, a television series was created, and in February 1977, Haggerty went back to playing the character of the wild and outdoorsy wilderness guardian.
The audience responded well to the show. It lukewarms the heart, as The New York Times’ John Leonard observed in his review. A large lump in the throat and a lot of communing with nature are experienced when a man and a bear hide out in a log cabin. Haggerty won a 1978 People’s Choice Award for being the most well-liked actor in a new series because of the series’ warm and sympathetic tone, which won over a lot of viewers.
The series also yielded two follow-ups: “Legend of the Wild,” which was broadcast on television in 1978 and eventually released in theaters in 1981, and “The Capture of Grizzly Adams,” a 1982 television film in which Adams ultimately exonerates himself of the false charge.
Born in Los Angeles on November 19, 1942, Daniel Francis Haggerty had a difficult upbringing. He had a turbulent childhood, breaking out of military school several times before coming home with his actor-father in Burbank when his parents divorced when he was three years old.
Haggerty was married twice in his personal life. When he was 17, he got married to Diane Rooker, but they later got divorced. In 2008, he lost his second wife, Samantha Hilton, in a horrific motorbike accident. His children, Don, Megan, Tracy, Dylan, and Cody, survive him.
In his debut motion picture, “Muscle Beach Party” (1964), Haggerty portrayed bodybuilder Biff. After that, he played supporting parts in motorcycle and wildlife movies. He was a hippie commune member in “Easy Rider.” He also played the role off-screen, living with a variety of wild creatures he had either tamed or rescued on a small ranch in Malibu Canyon.
His expertise with animals led to positions as an animal trainer and stuntman for television shows including “Daktari” and “Tarzan.” He kept taking on parts like “Where the North Wind Blows” (1974) and “The Adventures of Frontier Fremont” (1976) that highlighted his affinity for the natural world. His love of outdoor parts brought him roles evoking Grizzly Adams to movies like “Grizzly Mountain” (1997) and “Escape to Grizzly Mountain” (2000).
Haggerty had appearances in a number of horror movies later in his career, such as “Terror Night” (1987) and “Elves” (1989). He was involved in court in 1985 and was given a 90-day jail sentence for distributing cocaine to police officers who were undercover.
Tragic incidents also occurred in his life. Haggerty suffered third-degree burns to his arms when a diner carrying a burning drink unintentionally caught his renowned beard on fire in 1977 when he was dining. Despite being admitted to the hospital and supposed to stay for a month, he left after just ten days, claiming to have expertise of curing animals.
“The first couple of days I just lay in the dark room drinking water, like a wounded wolf trying to heal myself,” he said, reflecting on his injury, to People magazine.
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