Hand Tools

   Every once and awhile I make an attempt to clean up the area around my work bench. This has been one of my indoor winter activities the past several weeks. (It's safer in the basement than out on the ice in the driveway,) There are tools, tape measures, rags and dried spots of glue that missed their mark. Let's not forget paint spills either.

   Now I have an assortment of power tools: drills; sanders, saws, electric screw drivers and more. But scattered among the power tools are the hand tools, those that require no electricity or rechargeable batteries.

   I can not remember the last time I purchased a 'new' hand tool. Most of my tools were either picked up at auctions or passed down from my father and grandfather. If tools could talk, I am sure they would have some interesting stories to tell. Maybe they helped repair the priceless dining room table at grandma’s house or were part of a mad Christmas Eve frenzy to finish putting the toys together.

   Some of the hand tools are true pieces of art. The crafted wooden handles and the delicate etchings on some the saw blade represent fine craftsmanship. . The handle on the crosscut saw is well worn and fits comfortably in my hand. Who knows the number of boards its teeth have cut?

   There is a well used screw driver, bent near the tip. Its handle is smooth to the touch from many turns I am sure. And although well used and a bit battered, the wooden handle remains rich in color from sweat and toil.

   My father must have really liked pliers. In his old tool box were at least a dozen pair ranging in size from very small to a pair that almost requires two hands to hold.. Pliers can be a very handy tool, not only for gripping things but also for scaring little children when a tooth is about to fall out.

   The true measure of a craftsman might rest with the quality of the chisels. From flat and narrow to curved and beveled, each has its own sleeve in the leather case. The ties to hold the case secure are long gone, but the faded initials of my grandfather are still visible.

   Anyone who has a tool bench knows you can’t have just one hammer. Now I know there are new hammers that are used by carpenters that can be quite expensive. But no metal handles here; just claw hammers of different sizes and shapes. There is a very small hammer that I remember as part of the “junk drawer” in my grandmother’s kitchen. I wonder if she ever used it on my grandfather.

   Part of my hammer collection includes a ball peen hammer. To this day, I still am not sure of its purpose, but it is fun to say. All I know is that it works nicely when removing glass from old window frames.

   With my current collection of power tools are my hand tools. But I hope that in fifty years from now my grandchildren will be looking at the old hand tools, wondering what they were used for or who used them. There truly is something fascinating about them.

Almost as bad and scary as a junk drawer, or maybe worse...

   Several years ago I wrote a blog about 'junk drawers', places we have in our homes where we put stuff, things we don't use any more but also don't want to throw away for whatever reason. Often my reason for not throwing something away is very simple. Who knows when I may need an extra 'this' or a 'red or blue that'. And over the years, as in my case, the draw fills up and every once and a while, say 8-10 years, it's time to clean it out and start again.

   In recently had a 'junk drawer' experience, but with a bit of a twist. Actually it was a somewhat scary twist because I didn't know what I might find or in this case, what someone else might find.

   A few weeks ago I bought a new car. More correct, a newer car. It was in good condition, low mileage, a nice color and appeared to be well maintained. I usually don't buy brand new cars any more. The depreciation one suffers after driving out of the showroom can be a bear. I'll let someone else take the hit.

   To make a long story short, I didn't have the opportunity to clean out all the storage areas of the car I was trading in, so... one of the service people at the auto dealer said he would do it for me.

   Jokingly I said to him...”If you find that $100 bill I dropped under the seat, I'll split it with you.” He laughed. I laughed. And then... fear gripped my body. What would he find tuck away in all those little storage compartment, the glove box, the consoles between the seats, under the seats, in the trunk and oh yes, those catch all areas on each of the doors.   Did you know there are four of those? Lots of space.

   Now don't get me wrong. I usually try to keep my vehicles clean, both inside and out. You won't find coffee cups or soda cans rolling around the floor. I have one of those little trash containers on the floor to collect the Dunkin Donuts napkins and bags. But, like the 'junk drawer' at home, things sometimes will find their way into the console along with the extra CD’s or the glove box or stuffed in the corner of the trunk.

   But what was really scary in this case was that someone else was going to clean out the car, a car that contained “my stuff.” What would he think. Those items in the car, were they a reflection of the type of person I was, how neat or messy I was? Was there anything really important tucked away in the glove box or under the seat?

   (For those reading this who do not know what a glove box is, it's a storage compartment traditionally in the dashboard on the passenger side. I can actually remember my grandmother putting her gloves in the glove box before leaving the garage. She always carried a pair of white gloves with her. Yes. A different time and different generation.)

   Yesterday Chris finally called from the car dealership. He had finished cleaning out the car and I could come over to pick up the two boxes of items I had left in the car. Two boxes.? That much?

   Needless to say, I did not delay and rushed right over, if for no other reason than curiosity. What had he actually found?

   There was the car registration, the insurance card, the E Z Pass, a pretty significant number of CD's, 6 very stale granola bars, all kinds of chewing gum, several key chains, and several of those small packages of tissues, most opened and half used.

   There were probably a dozen or so pens and pencils, a couple dozen business cards, pads of paper, three travel blankets, the pet seat cover for the back seat for Lucky, two ice scrappers, and several umbrellas. I think you get the picture.

   There was about $4 dollars worth of change. But much to Chris' disappointment, no $100 dollar bill!

   There were no year old sandwiches or half eaten hamburgers, moldy cupcakes, beer cans, bloody shirts or weapon. Bloody shirts? Weapons? Yes. According to Chris, I might be surprised by what people leave in their trade-ins. Knives appear to the weapon of choice.

   As I began sorting through the boxes, for reassurance Chris told me the things in my car were pretty normal. Thank goodness. In this case, normal is OK with me.

   With two full boxes and a couple of blankets, should I have car trouble in the middle of winter, it was a good time to start fresh, so with the exception of the CD's, some of the chewing gum, a flash light, a few pens and the one umbrella that worked, the rest of the items got tossed in the trash can. How many half opened packages of Kleenex does one really need.

   But before I left the car dealership, Chris reminded me that in my new car there was additional storage space under the rear cargo area, just in case I needed some extra room.    He laughed. I said “thanks” and off I went to enjoy my new ride.

Now I am sure it was my imagination, but the car seemed lighter than the other one. But then again why wouldn't it. I had just cleaned out all the “junk drawers.”

                                                    ***************

Addendum…..I wrote this several years ago. But full and far disclosure now. I recently just purchased a brand new car. Yes, a new car with less than 200 miles. I did not trade in an older car. I sold the old  one at the end of my driveway. The person that purchased it stopped by a day or two later with two bags, bags of things she had discovered in the car in the glove compartment and the the other storage areas.

“There is no use in crying over spilled milk.”

   The young boy has just spilled his can of soda on the floor and like many his age, he began to cry. His mother tried to console him by saying...”There's no use in crying over spilled milk.”

   “But is wasn't milk, Mom,” he sobbed . “It was soda!”

   Many of life's little lesson are taught through the use of idioms, brief statements, often with distant historical background and meaning. While most languages are rich with idioms, the English language seems to have more than its share, perhaps because many English words lack the color, richness and romance of words found in other languages. I have heard that there are at least 100 different ways to say “I love you” in Italian, but in English...

   Idioms often come from strange and unusual sources, the Bible, ancient fairy tales, folklore, different regions of a country or the world and are influenced by the local culture and tradition. The southern part of the United States has some real 'classics.'

   Many of the present day idioms date back hundreds and even thousands of years, and while experts may not always agree on who, where or when, what they do seem to agree upon is that the 'saying' can often be confusing when it comes to their intended meaning and significance and their 21^st century use.

   For example, “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!” This expression is said to come from one of Shakespeare’s plays. Now I am sure that someone was not going to lend an ear as you might lend your neighbor a hammer, but over the years, the saying and expression caught on and is often used by many of today's political leaders... 'to get the public's attention!” Well, that may be pushing a point.

   When I asked a friend how he were feeling, he replied that he had recently “been under the weather' but was now feeling a bit better. With the weather being what it has been this winter, being under it may or may not be a bad thing if it meant avoiding it, but I suspect that was not the original intent. Believe it or not, the “under the weather” expression dates back to the early 1800's and is attributed to people becoming sea sick while sailing in stormy weather on the Mississippi River. Who knew?

   Often, after working on a project for a long time and not seeing success, I have felt like 'throwing in the towel.' Would you believe the origin of 'towel throwing' dates back to the early 1800's and boxing rings in Great Britain? I give up! Some of these idioms come from very unique places.

   Getting the facts about an issue is important. Getting the correct facts and truth is even more important. If you want to make sure that what you are being told is true, you might want to “get it directly from the horse's mouth,” especially if, for example, you are in the process of signing up for something important, like the new healthcare plan.

   So you are buying a horse and want to know its real age. Horse traders know to check the size and shape of the teeth to determine the horse's age...thus the notion of 'straight from the horse's mouth'. And purchasing health care? Try getting the facts about the new healthcare plans directly from a 'horse's …...'.

   Justin Bieber has been in the news a great deal lately. I am not sure how much talent he has or who may be advising him regarding an appropriate life style, but being a 'young man' with money to burn and a great deal of notoriety right now, he certainly is 'sowing his wild oats', wasting his time and money on reckless activities and life styles. My guess is that 'sowing wild oats' has been around a long time and a tradition with young men...as its origin dates back as early as 190 B.C. in Greece and Rome. Oh those young and foolish hooligans. When will they never learn?

   There are many idioms with origins coming from the Bible. “Seeing eye to eye” has several Biblical references, implying that different people, looking at the same thing may or may not have the same view or be in similar agreement.

   Putting your best foot forward to make a positive impression, putting your foot down to make a point, or being willing to support what you believe by putting your money where your mouth is have all become part of what makes our language rich in meaning and yet so confusing to those not familiar with it. Can you imagine the image of a person with ten $20. bills stuck in his or her mouth! And a number of idioms make reference to body parts? Why is that

   Without 'going too far out on a limb', idioms have become part of the way we communicate our thoughts and ideas, even if the original meaning of the words has changed over the years. It will be interesting to look back 50 years from now and see what new idioms we may have added to the list. Let's “stick it to them.”

The Value of A Handshake

              The recent outbreak of the flu has caused us to change our behavior. We are being discouraged from shaking hands for fear of spreading the illness. And if we do shake hands, the use of a hand sanitizer is strongly encouraged. This comes at a time of the year when shaking hands is part of the ritual at graduations and other events across the country. We watch as the world leaders and dignitaries shake hands to illustrate peace and good will among their nations. How many international conflicts have ended on the power of a handshake?

          But perhaps shaking hands is losing some of its true meaning. A handshake used to be as solid as a man or woman’s word. I remember moving to Maine and purchasing our first home. It was a private sale with no real estate agent involved. At the conclusion of the discussion my wife and I offered to have an attorney draw up a sales agreement. Being from away, that’s the way things were done.  The owner seemed somewhat offended by our offer and suggested we ‘shake on it’, our handshake being as binding as any piece of paper. “That’s the way my grandfather and father had done things and if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for me”, he said.  My handshake as strong as my word. What a novel concept.

          Shortly after purchasing the home, we began looking for a vehicle, something that would be more efficient in the Maine winter. We found one and much to our surprise the transaction was very similar to that of purchasing the home. With a simple handshake, the deal was done. No paperwork, just our word that we would return shortly with the money and the car would be ready to go.

          When you stop to think about the handshake, there are actually two parts to it. The first is the physical contact of grasping the hand. But the second part is the eye contact. The handshake has little or no meaning without the eye contact. We have often heard the expression that the eyes are the window to the soul. How many times have we shaken a person’s hand and looked to the ground or up the sky. The eyes often serve as a true reflection of the sincerity of the handshake and without the eye contact one might question the honesty of it at all.

          I know that over the years I have been part of hundreds of handshakes but probably none more important than the one involving the purchase of the home. It was my first real welcome to Maine and a lesson to a different way of doing business. The flu will pass and we will soon be able to return to the time honored tradition of shaking hands with less fear of spreading the illness, because if we don’t, perhaps we will be spreading a totally new kind of disease.

Desperate For A Hero

          As a child I can remember playing with little plastic cowboys and Indians (politically incorrect, I know) with horses and wagons or army soldiers in lines to do battle to defend the boundaries of my bed room. Today’s characters have changed. One just needs to take a look at Saturday morning programming or the hand-held games that have taken the place of the plastic figures. But there is one fact that has remained the same. If you remember, there was always one white horse and the figure riding that horse was going to save the world. (With all due respect, check out the pictures of General Washington, sitting high upon his white steed and if you read 1776 you will understand why.

          We have become a society obsessed with ‘hero’s, someone riding on to the world scene and solving all of the problems. From the young boy or girl dreaming of becoming a prince or princess to the video characters armed with weapons set to destroy the enemy, our hope is that someone will come to our rescue. But in real life, it doesn’t always happen.

         Sports figures and politicians, for example, are often admired because of wealth and power yet they continue to disappoint us because of their fallibilities. People who seek to gain our trust by making promises that are soon broken only add to a world of distrust and skepticism. And yet, we are as much at fault because of our desire for the hero, someone who will step in and save us.

         Recent elections illustrate my point. I do believe most candidates are very nice peo[le and will do their best to represent the people who elected him. At this point, I don’t care what political party they represent, but I encourage you to study the sound bits that followed from foes and adversaries. My hope and fear, that one person will soon change the political world!

              I went looking.  How does one become a ‘hero? I went searching for a school or college program where someone could get a degree in heroism, but found none. Maybe the USC football program! I tried to find some books or magazines or computer software that might help. Nothing. I found some crazy pictures though! Oh my!

          I find it interesting that the words ‘hero and ‘hope’ are often used in the same sentence and context. Webster defines hope as “what is wanted” and defines hero as someone “who is admired for their courage.” I’ll let you draw your own conclusion.

          At some time in our lives I believe we have all had dreams about being a hero in someone’s life, whether a family member, a friend or maybe something much larger like the country. Most who are ‘accused’ of being a hero deny it. They just stepped in and did the right thing. Perhaps that is what it is all about.

          Excuse me while I go get fresh hay for my white horse.

How looking back maybe just got easier...

   My first car was a four door 1964 Plymouth Valiant. It was light blue with big old white wall tires. I don't remember too much else about the car, only that power windows had not been invented yet and that if I went through a puddle of water, the car would stop. It seems as though there was a design flaw, that being the placement of the alternator in the engine was near the bottom of the engine block, too close to the road and when it got wet, the car would shut down. OK. Before someone else says it...it was a fair weather car.

   And who can forget that a gallon of gas was just 31 cents.

   Despite the little quirks, the car got me back and forth to college in West Virginia for several years, out on dates in Fair Lawn, N.J and most of the time, on time to summer jobs, except when it was raining of course. It served its purpose.

   Fast forward. I recently bought a new car, at least new to me. It is just a bit over a year old with low mileage and is nothing like that 1964 blue Valiant. Yes, it has power windows and I don't think it will stop running in the rain. Tucked somewhere inside the radio, I guess, is something called 'Bluetooth' that allows me to talk on my cell phone without it leaving my pocket. I don't even have to dial a number. I push a little green button on the steering wheel and this voice asks me what number I want to call. Cool!

   Heated seats are nice, especially in colder climates and rear hatches on SUV's that pop open with the touch of the key are great when your arms are full of grocery bags. But what I really like is the backup camera.

   Now I am not getting any younger and one of the things I am finding is that my mobility is not quite what it use to be. Sure. I can still swing a golf club or throw a tennis ball for the dog. I can still look in the rear view mirror or turn my head to the left or right when I am ready to back the car out of the garage or from one of those tiny parking spaces at the mall. But what I have found is that the backup camera really does help, with an addition view, although it does take a bit of getting use to.

   Put the car in 'R' and a picture immediately appears on a screen in the dashboard. Now, the first time I did this, the car salesperson was standing immediately behind the car, his face just inches away from the camera. He laughed and I screamed. He is pretty scary to look at, even in the camera.

   But after some practice, the camera has become a helpful driving tool. In the garage, I start the car, shift it into reverse, after I have opened the garage door of course, and I get a full picture of my driveway and the neighbor’s house across the street. I sure won't back into his house now, not that I ever did.

   With some degree of ease and feeling a bit more aware of those things going on around me, I now slip in and out of parking places at the grocery store, the local Dunkin Donuts and Walmart. I still adjust the rear view mirror, and look behind me to the left and the right before stepping on the gas, but the camera does add another level of safety.

   There have been a lot of changes in cars and trucks since my first 1964 Plymouth Valiant. Power window, heated seats, backup cameras are only a few of the innovations designed to make the journey through life a bit easier, more comfortable and safer.

   We know that sometimes when we drive, we need to backup in order to move forward and get to where we want to go. Life in general is like that also. That backup camera inside the car gives us not only a picture of where we have been, but also where we need to go before moving forward.

   The same holds true for life outside the car. While we don't have our own electronic backup camera, we probably have something just as good. I think we call that 'life's experiences', lessons and memories. It may not be quite like what we see on the screen of the backup camera on the dashboard of the car, the things we remember can often remind us of what's behind us, where we have been and where we are may be headed.

   And as for that new backup camera? Already I wonder how I have managed to get along without it for so long. Now how did that shopping cart get there?

All tied up in knots...

   Those of you following some of my recent blogs may be seeing somewhat of a trend over the past several weeks. It's clean up and clean out time. Nothing is off limits. The tool shed, the garage, some area of the basement and even the storage compartments in the cars have been subject to the cleanup.

   At the bottom of the stairs to the basement is an old cedar trunk, somewhat of a family heirloom, and there was more piled on top of the trunk rather than stored inside. But with the top now free from clutter, why not take a peek inside? Maybe if the trunk were empty, it too could go to the auction.

   Looking inside, the trunk was almost empty. There were a few old drawings done by the kids when the were in school, some wedding and birth announcements from friends and family and.....a whole bunch of neckties, maybe 20 if not more!

   Most jobs and positions I held throughout my working career required that I wear a sport coat or a suit along with a necktie. Now you have to remember that I am coming from a different generation, where the dress for work was a bit more formal, where the dress code requirements were spelled out very precisely and were strictly enforced. By whom...you may ask? The dress code police, of course.

   It was a suit, a starched or neatly ironed white shirt and a 'conservative looking' necktie, nothing flashing with outlandish patterns or colors that could serve as a distraction. Muted stripes were always the ties of choice.

   Over the years it just became very natural to “dress up” each day and many of our generation continued the practice of a more formal work attire even though the dress code expectations became a bit more relaxed. Dress down Fridays! What a great idea. But, for those needing to wear neckties, what great and easy gift ideas for birthdays, Father's Day, Christmas or just because 'it was an on sale gift.'

   Now I am sure that somewhere out their in the “google land” there is a history of the necktie, where it originated, how it came to be, or who was it's inventor. But right now I was focused more on what was in the bottom of the trunk. I had not seen some of these ties for years. The colors and designs, the widths and the fabric revealed the numerous trends and styles changes over at least three decades. From floral prints to stripes, holiday designs to company logos, there was quite a variety. When laid out side by side on the floor, it offered a rainbow of vivid color and textures.

   As I examined each with the care as if I were meeting a long lost friend, I tried to remember...”who in their right mind would buy something of that color, let alone wear it in public.” But then I remembered. It was a different time and a different generation and men's neckties, like the length of a woman’s skirt, reflect what's popular in the fashion world.

   I carefully folded them and placed them back in the bottom of the trunk. I now understood why, at the auctions and yard sales across this great nation, boxes and trunks are stuffed with old ties, scarfs and other neck wear. No one really knows how to get rid of them or what to do with them should someone have difficulty parting with them. After all, many were gifts from you children and they were so proud when they gave it to you on your birthday.

   So. what to do with old, seemingly useless neckties? I have seen them woven together, used to replace worn out seats in chairs and benches or used to tie up tomato plants in the garden. I have even seen them used in place of a broken leather belt to hold up a pair of jeans, just before they fell below the top of the butt crack.

    I suppose someone could open up an”Old Tie Museum” in some town, desperate for a local attraction.

   I closed the top of the cedar chest and went upstairs. But here is where it gets really scary! I slide open the door of my bedroom closet and hanging neatly of several tie racks was the next generation of neckties, ready to join the others in the trunk and there had to be at least the same number as already in the trunk if not more. But ...they would not be joining the others this day!

I wonder if I still remember how to tie one of those Windsor knots? Let's see..it's left over right, then....