The Endless Toolbox
We had a little trickle of water into the overflow tube of our toilet tank. Nothing major, but a waste of water, so we had to replace the toilet refill valve, an eight dollar part, which she had gotten from the hardware store. The only thing standing between us and finishing the job was the tiny plastic lock nut on the bottom of the tank that held the valve in place, for which I did not have the right tool. I tried a few things that didn’t work
Now, my grandfather taught me some stuff and I’ve stumbled my way through various home repairs over the years in different homes, but I don’t have an endless tool box like some of my handiest friends do. I’m a competent enough laborer, for sure, but I don’t usually see the big picture of how it will all fit together. Jobs always look so simple when others do them, like Chip and JoJo on HGTV
Our neighbor is a former Canadian lumberjack and contractor and has helped me with many jobs. His tools are all organized and seemingly endless, so, as I have done many times, I knocked on his door and asked for help.
While I was waiting for him to give me the adjustable pliers, I noticed his wood stove in the corner and I said “have you fired that up this winter?” and he said “No. I really can’t afford the wood.” So I thought hey I’ve got all this wood out back that we just have sitting there because we’re not making fires anymore in our backyard since we finished burning our stump to the ground. So I said “You know, we have all this wood out back that you could just take.”
And he came over and looked at it and he’s going to come get it he says before the snow starts on Tuesday which is tomorrow. I said “Cool, I’ve missed the smell of the woodsmoke this winter. Once you fire it up I’ll come over and sit by the stove with you and we can bullshit and tell some lies and drink a beer” and he said “Oh yeah I’ve got a TV and radio, too.” I told him I always learn something when I watch him.
In John McPhee’s The Survival of the Bark Canoe, Henry Vallencourt had a fantasy of being able to be dropped in the Maine woods with three simple hand tools and paddle out a bark canoe. In his case, with his specialized abilities, it was more realistic.
I’ve had my own fantasies about being totally self-reliant. My bete noir is that James Bond-type guy who can handle all roughnecks, is quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, always has a story, gets laid whenever he wants, speaks five languages, can fix anything, knows wine, cooks like a master chef, makes money doing mysterious things, travels all over the world, can handle any problem (home intruders, first aid emergencies or plumbing, for example). It’s just not reality. I’ve never met that guy in real life. We really do need each other, more than we even know.
I was looking over at his house this morning from our kitchen window in the February dark with deep feelings of gratitude and also my thoughts about gratitude. We got to finish the toilet project easily with the right tool and he got firewood.
As the late Mary Oliver wrote in Wild Geese,
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
For our purposes, with respect to gratitude, I might just say “you only have to let yourself feel grateful and say thank you.” That’s the only ritual act required. Be humbled, be electrified, be open, just say thanks.
