I’m not very good with tools or fix-it projects. I’ve tried through the years to paint, plumb, stain, rebuild, landscape, tile, carpet, oil, and maintain, hoping to find something I was competent at doing. My dad was the same way, and his lack of skill around the house far outweighed any genetic abilities I may have had inherited from my apparently talented birth father. One of the first projects we did was carving a block of wood for the Indian Guides totem pole. I, of course, ended up with stitches.  Similarly, the derby car we built together for the Jamboree was the slowest on race day. 

As a side note, he chose the Indian name Big Turtle while I stubbornly refused to be Little Turtle and instead became Straight arrow, when all of the other fathers and sons had matching names. It’s a good example of how the two of us just didn’t see eye-to-eye. I apparently passed this lack of cooperation on to my son, Adam, but at least he knows how to work with tools. He quickly learned to stay away from me when I was at my tool bench after catching the claw of a hammer just below his nose watching me try to extract a nail from a two-by-four. These days, I usually rely on him to do my projects, and he insists that I don’t help.

Mom controlled the toolbox when I was growing up. Her hobby and eventual retirement business was picture frames for doll houses. She would personalize these tiny homes, utilizing actual family photos set in miniature frames. The picture frames were often antique jewelry settings or made of wood that she would craft herself. Her father and my grandfather, Ross Hancher, was handy around the house, building furniture and custom cabinetry. He also taught my mom photography and dark room skills that she used in her business. She would travel around the Midwest, selling her products at craft shows. Too bad, I never developed the patience for detail that she and my grandfather perfected. 

I’ve given away many tools and things with motors through the years, hoping that I would never have to deal with them again. The snow blower and snowmobile were good moves since I no longer am punished by cold weather. However, the power washer could have come in handy many times, including yesterday’s DIY project to seal our driveway pavers. I ended up borrowing one from a neighbor, and all went surprisingly smooth for once. We found it necessary to save a few bucks after the surprise expense of replacing the entire brake system on our car, something I would never even think of doing myself. As far as my tools passed along, I’m too often stuck having to stupidly rebuy and replace these items after our multiple moves.  Since we no longer have two cars to worry about, will the golf cart we just bought come back to haunt me?

For many years, I escaped the hassles of home ownership by living in condos or apartments where I could rely on someone else to do the dirty work. Now, I have to do things like replace bulbs, change filters, plant things, paint, clean out dryer vents, drain the water heater, suction out the air conditioning line, and seal pavers. At least, I still don’t have to own a lawn mower. I have so much time on my hands, I’m dangerously tempted to do these things myself even though I’m more of a break-it-yourself stooge than a DIY guy.