From The Storyteller

July 3, 2017,  "Tools"

I grew up in a house where the word “tools” meant hammer and screwdriver. If something needed to be fixed my dad called a “handyman.” My dad believed a person should do what they are best at. He was a lawyer and he spent long hours at it. When he was home his hobby was listening to the radio. Thus it was only after my moved to Kansas that I was introduced to Sears Craftsman.

My first metal gray tool box opened my eyes to the world of possibilities. I found the need to buy power tools like drills and saws, and different types of hand tools like socket sets, wrenches, pliers, and vice grips. This list ultimately included tools for our cars, boat, house and anything else I could dream up. Some of these tools were used a lot, most were not. If I could think of a use, buying the latest super wiz-bang thing was justified – until.

Until I realized I had two tall file cabinets, three large tool chests, a 10X10 shed, and a 34’ sailboat filled with tools. This did not include the ones in the cars for emergencies. I always wondered about the obsessive compulsive collectors of stuff. I have encountered collectors of elephant statutes, match book covers, coffee cups, and almost anything else you could name. This of course did not include me because the tools I collected could always serve a good purpose.

I came face to face with my demon when I was considering another set of screwdrivers – my fourth. Elaine simply said, “Do you think you need them?” In a flash I was convicted. I am now a recovering OCD tool collector. Going cold turkey has been tough, but with Elaine’s help I will be okay.

Moral – Sometimes the problem is me.