A lack of understanding

One of the fascinating things about repairing drain cables and equipment are the the laments which I hear along the way. At times I wonder if people ever actually think about what they say.

Broken cables always just break. The operator never ever put too much pressure on it. Never ever.

They were simply feeding it into the drain line and it broke. One fella even claimed, I am not making this up, that he just looked at his machine and the cable snapped. Of course, he was kinda ugly...but the customer's point is that most cable breakages supposedly occur though absolutely no fault of the operator. Right.

A favorite of mine is the question, why did my machine break? It is often asked with incredulity. My answer is, I think, obvious. Everything is subject to break. Nothing made by human hands lasts forever. Your equipment, your cars, your refrigerator; they all break, and sometimes we just don't know why. How can you be shocked by that? Of course, if I see a definite reason why something went wrong I will tell you. But often things just go bad.

Then there's the equally incredulous, it was working and then it just stopped! Again, why are you surprised? Everything works until it doesn't. It's not a shocker.

Sometimes I just sigh about it. Other times I blog about it. Today is your lucky day.

The plush toucan

Dads like to do nice things for their kids. And nice things don't have to be spectacular.

When my daughter was 6 or 7, we found ourselves on a family vacation in St. Ignace, Michigan. Wherever we were, there was this crane machine, the type where you pay a quarter for a chance to grab a toy or prize or whatever. Abby spotted this stuffed toucan doll which she decided that she had to have. We gave her 4 or 5 quarters and she went to work trying to scoop that bird out of the machine. But fortune wasn't with her and she didn't get it. After the last quarter was played she went off with her mother for a drink of water, and I could tell she was disappointed.

I had one more quarter. I stood by that oversized toy and thought, why not try? I've never been good at those things, but hey. I fed it to the crane machine and lo and behold, I managed to nab that toucan.

I must admit I was pretty tickled at my luck. Yet I anticipated Abby's reaction would be better, so I held the doll behind my back and headed towards the water fountain where her and her mom were.

When I was next to her I asked commandingly, "Abby?" She turned towards me, and I brought my right hand out, presenting her that toucan.

The wide, bright eyes and huge smile were one great prize themselves, let me tell you. The big hug and loud "Thank you Daddy!" didn't hurt either. She showed it to me a year or two ago; she still has that little toucan.

Nice things don't have to be spectacular.

The shot heard round the yard

To fully understand the scene, you need to know that my grandparents lived right next door to us, their house maybe 15 feet away from ours. Both of our front porches sat up, the decks about six feet high. There were railings on the porches of course, and from these railings people could stand and talk to one another across the breach. Or they could make a nice crowd for a five year old with imagination.

I remember well the day me Pops had us kids, me and my sibs, out on the little patch of yard between those porches, pitching a plastic baseball to us. We would all try in turn to absolutely clobber that ball, the ball Dad was trying his best to get to hit our bats. Mom and a couple other people stood on our porch to the left, me Grandpa Joe and Grandma and I honestly believe a couple others standing on the porch to the right. To a small child, it had a real stadium feel.

As I recall, I scorched a hard liner past the old man who, being at that moment my adversary, seemed far too pleased with my success. Joe smiled broadly as he puffed on his Charltons, and cheers rained down from the gallery as I loped unchallenged around the makeshift diamond, the youngest World Series winner in baseball history at old Tiger Stadium.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't actually Tiger Stadium. But as Cosgriff Field, it was a good substitute.

My favorite Independence Day

Today is Independence Day. 243 years ago the United States declared themselves separate and equal to Great Britain. But this day I find myself remembering a very different July 4th, one of the fondest memories of my childhood.

It was around 8:30 in the morning and I was I think 10, just goofing off in my backyard. I saw me Grandpa Joe come out of his house (he and Grams lived next door to us) but he didn't see me. He walked out his back gate and up towards the old barn where he worked, the same old barn I have now. Naturally, I had to investigate. What could he be doing on a holiday?

I got to the shop right as he was opening the truck doors. "What are y'doin, boy?" he asked in that vague gruff manner of his when he wasn't in full on gruff mode.

"Wonderin' what you're doing," I answered honestly.

"Well, c'mon in then." Joe was welding something underneath one of the stake trucks he used for delivering the welding equipment he rented. I held a flashlight for him as he scoped out the job. Then he fired up an old Hobart welder he used exclusively in the barn, gave me a welding helmet with strict instructions to keep it on until he said I could remove it, and commenced with the repair on the truck's frame.

After a while he paused for a break. We went and got donuts ('vittles' he always called coffee break donuts or snacks) and ate them while we drank our coffee as he smoked a cigarette or four. Then he went back to finish the job, me wearing that far too big and heavy helmet and holding a light for him when asked. Soon we were done.

He shut everything down and did a quick clean up, and then locked up the barn. He turned to me and took a five dollar bill from his wallet and told me to take it. "You worked too," he told me to tell his son and daughter-in-law who might wonder how'd I'd come across such largesse. Five bucks was huge to a 10 year old in 1970. I said thank you. In fact, I believe it was more like "Thank YOU, Grandpa Joe!"

"Aw Hell," he said back, as was his wont.

So I earned my first pay on a long ago July 4th. And I had a really good time doing it.

Copper question

Whenever me Grandpa Joe would scrap out a fried arc welder he would toss the stripped copper into a 55 drum. When the drum was filled, it was me Pops' job from early on to take it to the scrap yard.

The scrap yard they frequented was owned by an old gentleman. When Dad would go to put the drum on the scale the old man would ask him, "Young man, is that copper from the top all the way to the bottom?" He would motion with an upward pointer at the beginning, turning it down until he was pointing at the floor when he finished his question.

"Yes, sir," me Pops would always answer. He would add, "I can dump it onto the floor to show you."

Holding the palm of his left hand as though to stop Dad in his tracks the man would reply, "Your word is enough."

This happened every time, me Pops often related, that he took copper out to scrap. "Young man, is that copper from the top all the way to the bottom?" "Your word is enough."

Dad wondered if perhaps it was some form of ritual, simple habit, or the owner's way of letting you know that he trusted you while being sure of what he was getting. Or maybe he simply believed in believing in people.

Well, a man's word should be his bond, right?

A brief history lesson

Happy Independence Day, America! I mean that. Today is our actual Independence Day.

You see, the Second Continental Congress passed the resolution declaring independence on July 2, 1776. It is today of which John Adams, arguably the most important figure in the drive for breaking away from England (he tapped George Washington to head the Continental Army and Jefferson to write the Declaration as well as forcefully arguing for it in Congress) wrote that on future July Seconds there would be 'pageant and pomp and parade'. The Fourth, well, was to be just another day.

So what happened on July 4 that we remember so well? Congress approved the Declaration of Independence document, the famous tome of Thomas Jefferson's (with some help from the aforementioned Adams as well as Ben Franklin and two others) on July 4, 1776. Technically, we were already independent then.

You can argue quite reasonably, and it has a strong case philosophically, that the actual Declaration is more important than the act of declaring independence and thus deserves the higher value. Still, I might grill a burger today just the same.

Marty is mean

Yes, I have a mean streak. I try to keep it in check but sometimes it creeps out.

Yesterday a neighbor down the street, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, was out walking his dog. He also, Cloyce, not the dog, had a sling on his right arm. "Watch me confuse ol' Cloyce by making him try to wave at us," I whispered to my brother who was sitting nearby. "Hey Cloyce!" I yelled with a wave from my porch.

Cloyce turned and smiled and started to wave. Yet although he managed to half raise his right arm, the sling kept him from raising it very high. Then he started to wave with his left hand, which held the leash for his dog. The dog was stopped and pulled back slightly, then looked at Cloyce like, what the hey, man? He then, Cloyce, not the dog, kinda shrugged his shoulders at me and went on.

Yeah, I know. But it was fun for me.