Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Working Hard or Hardly Working?

For the last couple of days, I have been working. Not at a job, that happens tomorrow. No I have been working at being a man! A man-ly man. I have been doing home repairs.

I always assumed that everyone knew how to repair loose boards, re-wire outlets, and install cable underneath the floor, but I guess I was wrong. I was talking with my ex-roommate from old apartment, I refer to him as Cat Guy. he had a cat, it is maybe the coolest cat I have ever met. So anyone I was talking to Cat guy and his exact quote after I had told him what I had been doing, "It's good to know that there are some people out there that still know how to do these things, and don't rely on hiring others to do menial jobs."

I never really thought about it in this way before. And then I remembered hearing the same thing on the news the other day during the Illegal Immigrant walk-out. I am pretty sure it was Lou Dobbs on CNN who said, "When did Americans get so lazy?" And I started to think, where did I learn all these Man-ly traits that I take for granted? How did I learn to rip the electrical outlet out of the wall, as well as remove the box it sits in, then ground such a box, and swith the non-grounded plug for one that is grounded? I know I lost all of you in that sentence. I am making a point, someone taught me this and I retained the information.

And I realized my Father and Mother somewhere along the way bestowed upon me common sense. It was always a fight, but when my Dad would wake me up at 6AM screaming at the top of his lungs that I had to rake the lawn, there was a lesson being learned. I remember fondly turning over and going back to sleep, to have my father return to my room and take all my covers leaving me laying there cold. But still i would fight him and go back to sleep. He would then come in my room pick me up, I was to tired to struggle, throw me outside and lock the door. I would then yell for about a half hour at him outside of the door. Then at some point I would be really cold, so I would beg him to let me in so I could change and do the work. Really this was all a con because I would run back into my room and go back to sleep. Only to have him come barreling in the room with a bucket of water which he would pour on me. At some point I would cecede to my father and rake the lawn. Usually it was getting dark by that time, But still he would never let up, knowing full well that later in life these lessons would be important. Be it raking the lawn, cleaning the gutters, mowing the lawn, cleaning the windows, doing the dishes, setting the table, building a bookcase, servicing the car, etc...

But I'm thankful, because now I can take care of myself. So where am I going with all of this, well I'm getting to that. Even though I always felt like this work was some sort of punishment, I know now that it was just teaching me how to be a better person. And I think in some way writing about it will make the ladies want me more!


Blogger Drunken Chud said...

dude, same here. my old man used to pull the same shit. he wouldn't ask. wouldn't be nice. just ordered me around like a slave. and then would do the same wake up tactics as yours. except he preferred ice. it was colder, and then slowly got you wet. like torture. but short of a complete engine or tranny rebuild, or intricate masonry i can pretty much do anything i need to. my brother on the other hand... is 22 and needs instruction to change his oil. which he's been doing since 16. but it's all good.

funny story, well, sad really. i used to work at this barn, and we ran a non profit out of it. anyhow we had some wards of the state come out and do community service for being bad little bastards. basically they were painting the barn. after a quick instruction period of bucket to brush to barn. one of the kids came across an errant nail. so i handed him a hammer. he looked at it asked me what he was supposed to do with it. i told him to either pound it in or pull it out. his choice. he just stared at me, at the tool, at me, at the tool, at the nail and finally said... "how?". the kid was 16 and didn't know how to use a hammer. but he somehow managed to be a criminal. hammers save lives.

May 03, 2006 11:20 PM  
Blogger Lynn-e said...

Great blog and a very good point. I send my son to my parents farm as often as possible so he can learn those same things. He's proficient at driving an ATV, painting and fixing fence, and doing basic woodworking at the tender age of 10. I think it was an excellent way to grow up, even though I bitched & moaned with the best.

May 04, 2006 9:58 AM  
Blogger Stickler said...

Chud, that was funny. If I had met him I would have called him a dumbass and probably made him cry! Then pointed and laughed! I was made fun of alot as a child and paybacks a bitch!

Lynne, your son is going to thank you later in life. And how cool would that be to go work on a farm! Can I go?

May 04, 2006 11:57 PM  
Blogger Drunken Chud said...

stickler, it sounds like fun what with the hay bales and animals. but really it's just broken machinery and animal shit. heh.

May 06, 2006 9:37 PM  

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