"DIY" and the Single-Minded, Slightly but Not Always Competent Geezer!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    "DIY" and the Single-Minded, Slightly but Not Always Competent Geezer!

Pictured above is an image
of a menacing bird that
stared at me while I patched
a hole in a soffit...  Musta
been its nest??!!

Periodically -- and I suppose many are so afflicted! -- I tour our "estate" to determine possibly urgent maintenance needs!  (Drat the confounded curse of responsibility...  it's like a "plague of conscience"??!!)  And then what happens??!!...  

...Suddenly, last summer...  I decided both the upper front porch railing and the upper rear deck and railing system demanded attention, that is, scraping and removing old material and applying new primer and a finished coat of paint.  I also heeded the advice of my wife and attempted to repair a gaping hole in a soffit (fascia, too!) above the upper front porch.  "Must'a been those darn birds!" I opined upon acknowledging the great, gaping mess in the upper regions of the structure.  (A gaggle of birds kept staring at me menacingly as I worked!)    

Aging geezer that I am, I nearly fell off the ladder four or five times.  "We should move to a condo that hires people to do that kind of work," my wise and protective wife almost demanded.  

"We'll look into that," I replied.  "I agree it's an excellent thought.  I'm too old to be working on a ladder for several hours on end...  I could get dizzy and plummet to the earth!  Worse...  the concrete!"  As of this writing, we haven't changed lodgings!  But we're looking into it...

Idiotic though it may seem for a barely competent DO-IT-YOURSELF'er, I have long felt I could accomplish many different tasks best left to professionals.  In one instance in the mid-1990's, I attempted to repair an aging Chevrolet.  After my "repairs," and the removal of

I didn't actually fall off
the ladder, this time...
But I teetered and
wobbled a lot!  Whew!!...

several pieces of "extraneous" hardware, some silly "needless" wires too, the air conditioning never worked again, the windscreen wipers bumped into one another and mechanical difficulties appeared one after another until finally the automobile expired.  When I attempted to change the "glow plugs" on a Volkswagen "Rabbit," we eventually had to "shoot the thing and put it out of its misery," as one of our wiser acquaintances observed.  (She was fond of metaphors!...  or is it  anthropomorphism??)

I have had some successes, however!  I replaced a faucet system for my dear friend, Steve, and his family.  Although I had to use several innovative fastening devices to anchor the thing to the sink.  The faucet sat a bit higher than Missus would have liked!  I rebuilt the threshold at our back door.  Didn't do too bad a job, either.  It just wobbles a little...  And, I've done concrete repairs around the periphery of our 118-year-old homestead.  It may not be pretty, but it seems functional.  I think!...  

Illustration above is how
one feels one appears
trying to schlep a 3-ton
refrigerator (beer usage only)!

My brother, by contrast, is a DIY genius -- builder, electrician, engineer, designer, plumber...  He can do, build and fix anything...  Big jerk!!  When he married and left home for good, that is, left the old nuclear family home of our youth, my father began to telephone me every second day or so to fix things.  He must have thought my brother and me interchangeable parts!  What a disappointment for the old fellow.  I have a great friend, Tom G., who is also a DIY expert.  He can do all that stuff, too.  Why is that?  Is it in the genes?  (Ach!)  Can't be!  My father only picked up a hammer to chase vermin out of mother's tomatoes!  

I seriously lacked the manual arts competence of my older brother.  I allowed an ancient, seemingly 3-ton refrigerator to crash through a basement wall, for example.  "Boy genius," my father labeled me, sarcasm dripping acidly from his words...  But that's a story for another time...  (Well...  maybe just a taste -- a friend and I tried to "hoik" it into the back of an open convertible.  We eventually tied the dolly holding the accursed "ice box" to the back of the automobile and hauled it like a trailer for five or six miles...)

Although I almost always did my parents' bidding, and tried to do my best even when the task was utterly ridiculous, even into my own advancing age.  I stuffed steel wool into imaginary holes in the eaves, for example, where my father was certain squirrels were gaining access to his attic.  We used live traps to capture the invading "tree rodents" and then drove them -- at his command -- from Wauwatosa to Mequon for release "into the wilds," as he'd say.  When another squirrel invaded his attic, he'd pull a face, contortedly quizzical, and ask, "How the hell did that damn beast find its way back here from Mequon?"  I'm sure he was joking...  Wasn't he??  Eventually, we engaged a kind of exterminator who discovered the actual point of entry.  The squirrel invasion ceased.

"Hey Pops!  You look a bit thick!
You got squirrels in your attic,
maybe?...  Tee Hee...  Snicker!..."

I suppose it's a kind of conditioning.  Pavlovian stuff!  My mother insisted I could fix anything she asked me to repair, build anything...  I put up a Christmas tree on one occasion and somehow managed to cause a power saw to gnaw its way into a paint-striped, newly replaced base board!  (The thing is, I fashioned a make-shift stand, but failed to consider placing the stand in water!!  I tried sawing the stand to accommodate the size of the water bucket; vibrations sent ornaments sailing, crashing...  Such a fuss; maybe they were heirlooms!)  My mother returned to the scene from shopping.  "Is the tree up?" she asked, walking into the living room.  "Oh," she exclaimed, in shock but outwardly calm.  "Can you fix that?"  Never quite a perfect repair, she placed a large chair nearby to conceal the scar!

For Maintenance,  Don't
Call This Guy!!  

As a probably deleterious result of all that "encouragement," I can't help myself.  I keep trying to fix things I shouldn't go near!  It's a curse, I suppose.  Just this past week, I snaked out a "choking" bathroom sink drain.  I discovered the "head" of the snake peeking out of the sink in an adjacent bathroom.  "How the hell did that happen?" I exclaimed.  (Sigh!)  The clogged sink eventually drained.  Divine intervention, maybe!!??

I can't imagine a major shift in my foolish DIY compulsion.  Call it cheapness, maybe it's quixotic, perhaps just the absurd notion that eventually I'll miraculously acquire a level of expertise from all those previous attempts!?  Ridiculous!...  And then there's the specter of aging limbs and their eventual worsening condition that'll force the end of my DIY fervor!  I'll post my medical and surgical history, charts, X-Rays...  just FYI!!  If you need me, I'll be upstairs plunging something...  or hammering...!  (Keep emergency numbers handy at all times!!)  

Humbly posted 02-16-15 -- Joel K.

    

     

         

  

    

Death of Eyeball to Eyeball Intimacy in the Techno-Age!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

Special Note:  The following is a Guest Post submitted by

the usual author's Lifelong Partner and Beloved Spouse!  

This Episode:    The Apparent Death of Eyeball-to-Eyeball Intimacy in the Techno-Age! 

(Thanks to Joel, my partner geezer in crime, for the use of his blog -- providing me with a forum for my complaint.)

I realize that I too am a geezer.  But I try not to be a technophobe.  I text, use Facebook (though not often, I must admit), help my friend to navigate her digital converter...  I use a smart phone from which I check my e-mail, get directions, send pictures...  You get the idea -- I’m not completely anti-technology.

I know that we have all witnessed four or five individuals having lunch or coffee who are not conversing but have their heads bent over their phones -- texting, playing games, reading books and whatever else they do -- but certainly not talking to one another.

But I recently noticed some things that are driving me nearly mad!  Today, for example, I saw a woman sitting with boy who was maybe six or seven years old at a local coffee shop.  She may have been the mom but more likely, I think, the caregiver.  As they settled in, she immediately began playing video games on her smart phone.  They sat like that for 30 minutes or so, she with eyes on her phone, he (to his credit) playing some sort of game with his fingers.  Video game over...  and she said, "time to go home."

Similarly, in the summer, at the same coffee shop, a mother was sitting with her child sipping coffee and chatting with her friend.  Her child was watching a little bird with great interest, and finally said, “Mommy, mommy, it’s a birdie -- look look a birdie.”  Without missing a beat, she tapped on her smart phone, brought up a child’s video and slid it over to the child.  She never stopped talking to her friend, never looked at the bird and never acknowledged her child.  The child quietly began to play the video game and became oblivious to her surroundings.  How sad.

Pictured above is my favorite
bewildered geezer wondering if his
Flippy Phone is smart!

Today, happy to use technology, I began the process of booking a hotel.  By the time I was almost finished, the price went from $120 to $150.  I showed it to Joel who promptly called the hotel.  He chatted with the reservations agent and after a while, they were both laughing.  When Joel finished the price was $110.  There is no substitute for plain old fashioned verbal  communication.

I guess I’m saying that technology is a good thing, in many respects.  And I’m sure many of us have used the “one-eyed babysitter” on occasion.  But it saddens me when we opt out of genuine people connections if favor of our gadgets

Okay, Okay.  I’m a geezer.  But that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Text me and let me know what you think.

Mary

Humbly Submitted 02-11-15 -- for Mary K.