papa bears

Living on my own, I have come to appreciate the handyman skills my father passed down to me. Just this past week, I installed light fixtures, 'remantled' my closet and fixed a 'spurting' tap. As I stood underneath a newly opened glass dome, bits of plaster from the cottage cheese ceiling falling on my forehead and in my hair, I thought "damn, am I ever glad I know the difference between hot, neutral and earth."

I remember sitting over the disemboweled remains of a radio, its wires and coils in varying stages of connection, my dad holding a skinny Phillips screwdriver like a cigarette, tapping the tip on the radio's body cavity. I kept pointing to random things and asking, "what's that?" and he would tell me something that I have no idea about now. He could have told me anything and I would have believed him. I couldn't have been more than five or six. We didn't fix the thing, but I did glean a few essential facts about positive and negative charges.

Once, we made a model solar system for my science fair project. It had all nine planets (including the now dethroned Pluto), a yellow-light bulb-sun and a moon stuck permanently over Iceland. Dad and I went to White Rose and bought Styrofoam balls, paint and glue. We went to the library to get a Solar System book so we'd know what colours to paint our planets. We went to Canadian Tire to get a light bulb socket and box cutter. Then, we made the dining table an assembly line and put this thing together, destroying my mother's salad dryer in the process - hey, the solar system needed to orbit, okay? and we never ate salad anyway. I wish I still had it, but the teacher had asked to keep it at the end of the year for the Science Corner in the library and then I moved away.

The day after I got my driver's license, before insisting I get on a highway for the first time and drive two hours to London, Daddy made sure I knew how to put gas in the tank, put windshield washer fluid and antifreeze in, change my wiper blades and clean my car until it looked almost new, with all the potions necessary (ArmourAll for the tires and dashboard, Windex for the windows, Turtle Wax for the body). Again, we went to Canadian Tire and this time we made an emergency kit together, just in case. Ahh, the days before cell phones, when being stranded for hours on the side of a highway was a real possibility.

When I moved to Kingston, we had to install bracketed shelving and the washer and dryer. I quickly learned about studs (and how to find them without a stud finder), toggle bolts, drywall anchors and the difference between torque and tension. He insisted I figure out how to identify drywall from plaster, so I wouldn't have my framed posters fall down in the middle of the night. I rolled my eyes then. I wouldn't do so now.

These days, Dad's not as young as he used to be. Standing at the top of the ladder, trying to twist three wires tight enough to fit into a cap, he gets short of breath and his arms tremble from the strain of holding them aloft for too long. He needs his reading glasses to discern the hot from the neutral. Sometimes, he confuses a Robertson with a Hex screw. When I moved into the condo, he insisted on installing the bathroom fixtures for me, while we women unpacked the kitchen. In the end: I had to remove the wonky toilet roll holder, fill and sand the holes, repaint and reinstall; I removed the medicine cabinet alone, patched and repaired the holes, installed toggle bolts for its new location and put up a towel ring in its place; I had to re-tape the showerhead, because it was leaking profusely. And though, at the time, I cursed these facts, now, I think, I really only have one person to thank for these skills (and the confidence to act on them).

I remember the two things my Dad ever insisted upon after I made the announcement that I was moving out: that there be tight security in this newfangled condo building; that we go to Canadian Tire to buy and stock a toolbox. And after I had bought these things? We sat down and made sure I knew how to use the drill and socket wrench so when I'm alone and something needs to get done, I can get it done, with confidence. He's made me the woman I am today. Happy Father's Day, Daddy.