Flashlights: Too much is never enough

I think I must be afraid of the dark. I have flashlights everywhere. Most are Mag-Lites.

There is a rationalization available for this fetish. One very dark and stormy night, I was marooned on Turner Bogan campsite on the mighty St. John River and actually had to leave the tent to commune with nature. Being a city person, I carried no flashlight.

After listening to the frightening cacophony of noises from the trees, skies, riverbank, river and shore, I pledged during the sleepless night that I would never be without a flashlight again.

That pledge was buttressed by a number of midnight fire alarms in Boston hotels and stumbling excursions through a variety of movies, theaters and amusement parks.

Then I discovered Mag-Lites, the Porsche of flashlights. There is no substitute.

They have the brightest beam and you can actually “focus” the light on your subject. I swear you can illuminate passing satellites with them.

I now have one big Mag-Lite in the truck, and a small one with the spare keys.

The big one is the four-cell model favored by cops and prison guards because it will cave your head in if it is used correctly. I have a small Mag-Lite on my key ring. I have another in my kitchen drawer. I have one beside my bed. I have one in each (two) piece of luggage I own. I have one in my backpack.

My fetish is well known. Last Christmas, my daughter Bridget (mother of the grandson), was shopping at L.L. Bean for gifts for me when a helpful salesman suggested a Mag-Lite. She said, “I think he has more than you do.”

I always thought I had enough flashlights. I was wrong.

The twin banes of my consumer existence are, first and foremost, Amazon.com., followed closely by Men’s Journal Magazine. They both have figured out my male weakness and explore and exploit them to their own financial benefit.

Amazon will send you “recommendations” based on your earlier purchases. According to my “order history,” I have now topped 150 lurid detective and murder novels, none with any redeeming value. They range, alphabetically, from “A Carra King: A Matt Minogue Mystery” by John Brady and “A Conversation with The Mann,” by John Ridley to “When the Sacred Ginmill Closes” by Lawrence Block and “White Jazz” by James Ellroy. The books range from $5 (paperback) to $20 (hardcover.) You do the math.

Men’s Journal Magazine is almost as bad. They give so many articles on where to go, what to do, what to climb, what to read, where to bike and dive and what to eat and drink, that you have to read every page. At least one page every month features the coolest, latest and greatest gear you simply must have if you really are a man.

This month (May 2003), they hit me where I lived. Two different articles mentioned “Coast Turbo Torches.” If you can believe this (Rolling Stone) publication, these hand-held lights “use lights chips and patented reflector tubes instead of standard bulbs to produce a brighter and longer lasting light beam. These light chips will last up to 100,000 hours and are shock proof and water resistant.”

Whoa.

I took out the credit card and cranked up the Compaq Presario. I rejected another magazine flashlight recommendation, the $95 “Sure Fire E2e Executive Elite,” supposedly used by U.S. Special Forces, the FBI and “hard-core gun enthusiasts.” This killer flashlight can momentarily blind an assailant and is so cool that it was included in this year’s “gift bag” handed out to Academy Award winners. But even I have my limits.

Instead, I e-mailed Coastcutlery.com and bought an “LED-Lenser V9 LED Lenser-White Beam” for $8.39, an “LED Turbo Torch White Beam” for $12.75 and, of course, an “LED-Lenser V2 Triplex-White Beam” for $22.95, for a total, with shipping, of $52.19.

Had to have them!

I must admit, while I am waiting for this order, I am considering that “Sure Fire E2e Executive Elite” since it could blind an assailant, in case I ever had one.

Clearly, there is no end to this.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.