Sunday, September 12, 2010

Home Repair

Whenever I am fixing things around the house - I am unskilled, but need drives me - I avoid feeling sorry for myself by thinking of my childhood friend Gary. He was an academic; went to Bucknell, became a lawyer; but his father ran the hardware store in Colebrook, and he married a girl whose father was in the plumbing supply business. It puts you in a position of never being able to even hint at what you are doing around the house, because any comment you make will draw unsolicited advice and explanations how you're doing it all wrong.

He's a state supreme court justice now, and hopefully can spend the money to have someone else do it - unless his daughters and wife file prior claims on it - so he may finally have peace.

Me, not so much. But I don't have people looking over my shoulder and second-guessing me, either. That likely means I do a lot of unnecessary work, figuring out the best way on my own. But I'll take it,

6 comments:

Anna said...

The shoe could be on the other foot - I work as a civil engineer (a job devoted to computer calculations and paperwork). So people ask me "My foundation is cracking, what is wrong with it?", or "how thick should I make my porch slab?" and other questions that I don't know.

I suppose it could be worse, like if you were a doctor...

Michael said...

All right, I give up. You grew up in Manchester, Gary grew up in Colebrook. How do you know each other? My only real connection to Gary is that one time, back in the 80's, the Bethany Covenant Bell Choir rang at an event at the Manchester Art Institute and Gary was on the board at the time. We spoke briefly and now he reviews my work in his position at the Supreme Court.

Assistant Village Idiot said...

Gary and I were at Congregational church camp together in Pembroke after 7th and 8th grade. Then we were both in Manville Dorm at St. Paul's ASP summer of '70. (He was in applied math, if that tells you his versatility.) The girl he started dating then - now his wife - I had dated earlier that year. (And to make the Manchester connection full for you, that is Pat Garrell, whose father Bud owned Colonial Supply. I still know her phone number from HS. Lord only knows who has it now.) I can never remember if I introduced them or if they found each other without me. I have distinct memories of both scenarios, which tells you something about memory. Mine, anyway.

Contact has been sparse in adulthood; I used to get updates from the Rehnborgs, but we have lost touch with them once we left the Lutheran Church. But we always had good rapport and slip back into conversation easily. Please say hello for me when you see him. I'll bet he and Patty would be good at road rallies or bridge. (Commenter Michael was my bridge instructor years ago.)

Jonathan said...

2 things- 1. I remember you guys playing bridge at the King's old house. 2. Why didn't your mother teach you to play bridge?

Jonathan said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Assistant Village Idiot said...

It was a lasting regret of hers that she couldn't get me to play. She always said I'd be good at it. I doubt that. I'm good at the simpler, initial portions of intelligent bidding and remembering whether East or West is likely to have the high cards. After that I stop paying much attention and just wing it.

My mother was a tournament player in her younger years, and always claimed her mother was better than she was. Probably true. There weren't all that many intellectual pursuits for housewives who didn't drive in Louise's day, so she put her energy into bridge, crosswords, and walloping the players on Jeopardy and Concentration from afar.

She also watched The Guiding Light faithfully, however.