It’s Day 247 of The First Ohio Shutdown, Day Seven of The Curfew from Cedarville and Day 183 of Everything is (Still) Racist.
Deb and I are doin’ great. Every day we’re together — and that’s over 15 years now — I’m more grateful for the person she is, the values she holds, the wisdom she brings and, most of all, the way she handles the inevitable bumps in this Life of ours.
I’m a fortunate man.
As a kid in rural Ohio, I developed a fascination with tools. Despite growing up in a household where most mechanical work was farmed out to mechanics and carpentry was done by carpenters, I was diggin’ on cool tools from an early age.
I remember getting a nifty Handy Andy tool set one Christmas in the ’60s, and that laid the foundation for decades of seeking The Right Tool for The Job. Adulthood kept bringing me possibilities — cars, motorcycles, lawn mowers, firearms and the myriad demands of owning a home.
I seized every reasonable opportunity to add to my tool chest, and sometimes I created one — like celebrating my 1998 divorce with the purchase of a complete set of prized French sockets and drive tools.
Then, five months ago, a travel trailer came into my life, and last weekend a big ol’ bus. With RVing comes the call for more tools — a larger torque wrench, massive sockets, Robertson square-drive screwdrivers and other stuff here and there. Pretty much everything has to be portable and, in the case of our trailer loadout, relatively lightweight.
What’s cool about the motorhome — and maybe a little bit daunting to a shade-tree tinkerer like me — is that it’s both a house and a vehicle. Maintaining the two, especially on the road, arguably is the biggest reason that many people get out of RVing not long after they get in.
I accept the challenge.
Today I sorted through a tool set Ernie’s previous owner left behind in one of the storage bays. Most of the items I already have, but I thoroughly enjoyed the process of handling objects of pure utility.
They’re tools, after all.
No one will ever mistake me for a master mechanic, that’s for sure. With age comes wisdom, so they say, and I’ve become at least wise enough to know when to put down my wrench and pick up my phone. But my tools and I do what we can, and I take great joy from that.
Tomorrow will be a Thanksgiving Day like none of us has ever seen. The Macy’s parade will be a television-only event. Only two college football games are on the schedule, including what promises to be a compelling matchup of two 0-4 teams, and one of the day’s three pro football games has been postponed over you-know-what.
And then there’s that most important aspect of Thanksgiving, the traditional gatherings of family and friends, which the State is doing its best to demolish. The worst of it is that the threats issued by our “betters” have pitted Americans against each other at a time when we come together.
They want us to become a nation of Karens. And many will oblige them, just you watch.
Whatever you and I do this Thanksgiving, however we observe the occasion, what matters is that it’s our choice. Go out or stay home, gather or hunker down, we do it because we say so — in spite of and not because of, without regard to decree or pressure, because we decide.
That’s the Liberty of it.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay free.