Men have a common characteristic which courses through their veins. We are not cheap. Rather we like the challenge of fixing things ourselves.
Once long ago but forever seared in my memory, I tried to fix a toilet. It was never working right. Constantly through the night, you could hear the water running. The perpetual leaking sound was just like my ancestral invention of water torture.
I surmised that this was a simple problem. Like everything else in life, someone must have written a book on how to fix this sort of thing. On a rare free Saturday I read through a manual on fixing toilets. I was ready to spring into action.
Down in my garage I collected my tools and headed up to the bathroom. After removing the reservoir cover, I drained the water and took a long look at the inner workings of the flushing mechanism.
Something was very wrong with this picture. Everything was similar to the diagrams in the book that I read. However, specific pieces did not match in shape or location in real time. I needed a plan B.
My pickup truck delivered me to the local hardware store. Signs directed me to plumbing supplies. Once I was there the confusion expanded to new heights.
Parts were of every size, dimension and configuration that the human mind could conceive. Most would have brought worn parts to match with the new pieces that needed to be purchased. Not me. I was a post graduate educated professor, highly trained in observation skills. I was trusting my memory.
I gathered every replacement piece that was similar to the parts that I thought that I needed. Then, I compared each item and decided which ones that I would purchase. It is amazing that whatever won the selection contest happened to be the least expensive. Isn’t that a coincidence?
In the next many hours I reconstructed the inside of the flush system of the reservoir tank as best as I could recall. With everything tightened up, I prayed. Then, I turned on the water and was so relieved that everything held together. The next moment was priceless.
I stepped into the bedroom, held my pipe wrench in the air and announced to my wife, “Just call me Bruce the Plumber!” She responded, “That’s nice dear.” Then, the toilet flushed itself.
Eager for HIS Return!
Bruce Fong
4 comments
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November 29, 2007 at 9:24 am
Jennifer
One of the great things about Jewish humor is that it is often self directed. It is a well known stereotype that Jews can’t fix anything (even Jesus believing ones)… at least that is the excuse that David uses. His mantra when something is in need of repair is “don’t ask a Jew to make anything but a blessing”… then he gives me his blessing to call the plumber!
November 30, 2007 at 7:11 am
brucefong
I feel so relieved when others share in my lack of handyman skills. It is affirming when we can elevate craftsmen who are good at what they do!
December 2, 2007 at 2:22 am
Angela
hee hee, that was me 6 months ago. You would have loved seeing me all twisted up like a pretzel trying to squeeze myself between the wall and the toilet. But hours later I finally figured out how to replace the whole mechanism and the leaky seal leading into the wall. Guess THAT’s the German in me
December 2, 2007 at 9:43 am
brucefong
Oh the joys of owning a home! At least we have each other to laugh at in the process. Thanks for stopping by and making this traumatic memory a fun one!