Getting Nailed For Ice

Ron Nagasawa
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Wednesday - July 30, 2008
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When I was growing up, one of my father’s pet peeves was when no one made or refilled the ice cube tray in the freezer. Remember those aluminum trays where you had to pull back a handle to free up the cubes? As the oldest child, it was my specific duty to ensure that ice was always available.

When my dad came home from work, he wanted to enjoy a nice, cold cocktail of which ice cubes were the second most important ingredient. God protect you if you ever left the tray in the freezer without filling it back up with water.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why my parents never bought a refrigerator that had an ice maker. I’m sorry to say that when my dad passed away some 25 years ago, he never got to enjoy the convenience of having an automatic ice maker. I guess in a way, he already had one - named Ron.


It’s because of that, after I got married, it was my highest priority to get a refrigerator that had an ice maker. Even though that added feature was somewhat out of our financial reach, I figured if we cut something out of our budget, like food, we could enjoy the convenience of always having ice.

Today our refrigerator is about 13 years old and while it continues to make ice, the door dispenser recently quit on us. My entire family is irritated with this as you have to open the freezer door and reach into the ice bin to get your cubes.


That doesn’t sit well with our 11-year-old daughter, who now gets regular manicures along with her mother where they put on those fancy acrylic nails. The other day we were all in the kitchen preparing to have our families over for dinner that night. Our daughter wanted a drink with ice.

As she pulled her hand out of the ice bin, she screamed. I rushed up to see what was wrong. Apparently, she had lost one of her acrylic nails in the ice bin. My wife, the only one who could relate to this tragedy, demanded that I fix the ice dispenser.

Although I don’t think she meant for me to fix it, I broke out the old tool kit and started to work on the dispenser. It was kind of a Nagasawa miracle, but after a couple of hours of tinkering, I was able to get the ice dispenser to work. That was right about the time my in-laws arrived.

My wife raved to her dad about my accomplishment and he asked for a glass of ice water, which I was only too happy to get for him. Just as he was about to take a drink, he noticed a fingernail floating in his glass. Word must have got out because for the rest of the night everyone drank tap water.

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