Hey, Maybe I'm Not Useless

Of all my faults and neuroses, there is one that is probably most bothersome and just as inexplicable. For most of my life I have had a complete aversion to getting my hands dirty. You see, I possess the mechanical inclinations of a cabbage.

I grew up in a blue collar household. My father is all kinds of mechanically savvy. For some reason, it never took with me. To his credit, my Dad tried. He would take me with him on his evening and weekend contracting jobs. Granted, this wasn't so much that he was trying to impart knowledge upon me, rather that I represented very cheap (see free), if not skilled, labor. The problem was I had absolutely zero interest in working along these lines or in being dragged along to these jobs. In fact, my least favorite place in the entire world as a youth was the Channel (the City Line predecessor of Home Depot) store.

I believe it was apparent to my father right away that I was a lost cause. My interests as a kid were sports, school and video games. At least twice, while "helping" my Dad, he had to throw a hammer at my feet from a ladder to get my attention. More often than not I daydreamed and tuned him out when he needed me to hand him a nail or some other tool used to do something handy. We laugh about it now, but my Dad would get ridiculously angry at me during these moments. The way I looked at it back then was simple. Look pal, YOU asked ME along. I truly would rather have been almost anywhere else. I was never a bad kid, I just had no interest in working with my hands.

The big event scheduled for yesterday was The Man Zachary's first ever sports-related activity, a parent-child beginners soccer class. Zachary did really well, and I am proud to say he was the best at the running and dribbling drills on day one. Daddy was spoken to by one of the other Dads for shooting at the big people net (quite safely I might add, as all of the kids were 15 yards behind me on a water break at the time), but I digress. La Famiglia did not have anything else planned and it was going to be a relaxing day. I played poker at my good friend Rob's house on Friday night (I did quite well) and was poised to push my luck with my wife to attend a $40 buy-in tourney on Saturday night. It was mid-afternoon when my Mother In Law called to report that her hot water heater was "shot" and that she and my Father In Law would need my help to get a new one to the house from Home Depot.

My FNL has some health problems, so I figured my role in the operation would be transport and the heavy lifting. My FNL happens to be quite gifted mechanically. I know that I am viewed by everyone who knows me as completely useless when it comes to hands-on projects. Until yesterday, that never really bothered me a whole lot. Something clicked in me yesterday, however. Perhaps it was desire. Or pride. I'm not entirely sure since it was the first time I had experienced this feeling in a hands-dirty project setting. I decided I was going to help, and I did. I did the heavy lifting, but then also helped with pipe bending, fastening and thermostat setting among other contributions. It felt really good to be an actual help, even though I missed a chance to play cards at a time when I am playing at a pretty high level. It took me 35 years, but I finally got my hands dirty, and it felt great.

So, now that I have accomplished this minor feat, I am motivated to learn how to do some other things that I should have learned to do years ago. The first: learn how to change a flat tire. The fact that I have been driving for fourteen years without this handy bit of experience is not good, especially since I have a two year old in the car with me a lot of the time. The second: learn how to iron. Yes, it is true. I am incapable of ironing my clothes. The third: I REALLY need to learn how to shuffle cards. I have been playing cards with friends for a decade and a half (from college a-hole games to fairly regular poker games today) and I can not shuffle. I can play almost any sport fairly well but I have not had the wherewithal to make myself learn how to shuffle playing cards. One would think that the shame of being the only person at a given game who can't take his turn shuffling would motivate me to learn how to do something that most nine year olds can do, but not me. Until now I have been secure enough in my laziness and mental limitations that I have devoted zero time in improving my card shuffling skill set. It is high time I pulled myself together. Especially since I have been promising my crew that I would learn before next game - for approximately seven years. If I can help install a new water heater I should be able to shuffle cards. That sound you hear is my entire group of card playing friends shouting "Amen!" in unison.

I am tempted to call my Dad to tell him about yesterday's events, but given his heart condition I should probably keep it to myself. You want to avoid shocking people in that state when at all possible. When I do get around to easing him into the news, maybe he won't feel like his efforts weren't wasted during my youth. Either that or he will throw a hammer at me.

[Currently Listening: Sean Paul - "Temperature"]