This isn�t one of those overly political rants either, so don�t expect any gay-bashing or sermonizing on fatherhood. I think it�s pretty clear about how I stand on those and other worms in the apple, isn�t it?

I�m talking about being able to cut a gol-durned 2 x 4 into acceptable lengths and shoring up your front porch. Taking a can of oil and shoving a spigot into it and pouring same into a nearly perfectly good V-8 engine. Coiling a long extension cord into a nice, limp hanging circle of orange line and knowing how to do so without using an elbow and a shoulder (this is an abomination the likes of which would get you shot, if you tried it in front of me. Just ask my wife or son. Gnarly extension cords are the bane of my existence).

Growing up in the 60�s, especially the early 60�s, I can�t remember a single dad or other adult male who couldn�t do any of those things without a second thought. Who didn�t have a garage or basement full of tools and cans of screws and who didn�t want more. Who spent their Saturdays tinkering and fussing and making things whole, who had an axe and a sickle and a lawn mower that probably did not have a 4 cycle engine aboard.

And the funny thing was that these guys thought they weren�t doing half of what their own fathers did, and they quite possibly were right. I know that modern life has lulled me. I don�t do a quarter of the hands on housesmithing work my own dad did. My Grandad could not only cut the aforementioned 2 x 4, he could sharpen the handsaw that cut it (well, I can too, but I�m an ancient carpenter and don�t like other people messing with my stuff). Grandad never held a power saw in his hands so far as I know, probably would have scoffed at them as an expensive foolishness. I sure wish I had just one of those ancients Diston saws that he used, and I�m not talking about the antique value, either.

Guess what I�m musing about is outsourcing. Why, you can hire somebody to do just about anything you name nowadays. Cut your 2 x 4? Hell, the creepy guy at Home Despot who sells you the lumber will do it right in the store for a little extra. There�s an oil changing store every mile on the big boulevards of any major town. Coiling an extension cord? If you even have one, you�ve already bought that silly plastic reel that hauls it in for you (and makes a twisted mess out of it in the process).

Check your drawers and toolboxes. Got a soldering iron? Hydraulic jack? A heavy iron vise? How about a hand maul or a scythe?

Hell, I�m in construction and I don�t have them. Should, I reckon. All useful things.

But.

I�ve got a long open carpenters box full of hand tools. I can sling that heavy bastard over my shoulder and walk onto any homesite in the country and build you a house from the ground up and never have to ask you for power, or water, or gasoline. That�s a skill, and a box of tools, that you will not find anymore, and it�s a damn shame. That�s a way of doing things that was over before I ever took up this trade for a living, but I was either stupid enough or old fashioned enough to want to know how. And I learned it. I don�t mind sounding a little full of myself over it because it�s just simply not done that way anymore, it�s not taught, it�s not encouraged. Yep, no question it would take me longer to do it in the old way. I�ll not argue that for a second. Wouldn�t want to either, because it�s pointless. Who gives a turkey about speed, really? We�ve made all these improvements in tools and techniques and we�ve got less leisure time than our parents would ever have stood still for. And I work the power tools too, of course. But I don't necessarily have to.

That�s a little off topic.

Dad used to have a shelf full of how-to books in the basement, and would consult them regularly. It�s funny, because the man knew how to do an incredible array of things, but he was always questing to know more. Funnier still, all his neighbors and cronies had the books too. They weren�t into outsourcing either. They didn�t often ask for help, but if they did, it was rare that they had anyone help them who didn�t already know most of what they did, couldn�t pull his own weight so to speak.

I imagine a lot of it had to do with self-reliance. Or maybe self pride. Or maybe hanging onto their money a little tighter than we tend to do now.

Wasting valuable bandwidth complaining about how people can�t saw their own wood isn�t going to change anything. It just never ceases to amaze me how many not only can�t, but just don�t want to or worse, wouldn�t want to be caught dead doing so. We�ve morphed into a wireless morass of shiny sheep, suckling at the syrup of lifestyles and talents far above our heads. Lives fit for the airwaves, the big screen, the tanned and plasticized. We buy things we can�t afford and in all reality don�t need, we crave a life where all trivialities will be swept away by hired cleaning crews and all annoyances repaired by the fellow in the shiny maintenance van. Life in a kit, where assembly is explained in four languages and many pictures.

And I can�t imagine how all that would ever help someone who lost all their money and possessions and had to go out on the road and work for food. Happens every day. Or a natural disaster, a hurricane or a fire. The life changing events.

Don�t think it will happen to me. But if it does I hope the saws are sharp, and that I haven�t misplaced the tri-file to sharpen them. The will to do it?

That�s something every adult ought to have in the first place.

There�s a follow-up to this, something like a master plan in my ceaseless floundering for any plan whatsoever. Next time, yes?

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Thanks for reading.

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