Old Tools

I’ve come into a curious batch of old hand tools recently. One my mom calls the egg beater is a hand crank drill that would actually work in the kitchen. Also, a soldering kit and some tin snips. Old saws that tell stories of a different time. Some that still cut wood.

I like the familiar phrases that come from times past, too. Measure twice, cut once. Each day, a task has me whispering righty-tighty, lefty-loosey.

Song lyrics, too. Dad and I made our way through big band, swing, and all the classic crooners. Singing along, I hear all those lyrics again, differently.

Belting out Sinatra’s My Way at a friend’s karaoke night was one of the Completing releases I needed that year. Singing in public meant conquering a lifelong fear. Embodying the accountability of my self-directed path through those classic lyrics was magic.

Over dinner the other night, we talked about the curious metaphysics of cultural transmission. For example, how did the life-saving island wisdom of Bob Marley make it on cassette tape to tiny me in the 1970s desert southwest?

One love, one heart, let’s get together and feel alright

The Completing and Creating prompts often reveal what we say to ourselves. Lately, I notice how what I say comes from what I sang over the years.

Old tools (and tunes) that work better over time.