Handyman

The other day a handyman came to our temporary apartment to fix several problems that emerged just at the time we’re preparing to leave: the bathtub wasn’t draining properly, the lever that turns on the shower wasn’t engaging the mechanism, the kitchen faucet was dripping, the freezer’s temperature refused to stay low, the handle on the bathroom door was loose, and the wall next to the bathtub was wet and its paint flaking.

There are 250 flats in this residential tower and there’s only one handyman for all of them, so we were glad that our landlords were able to send him here on very short notice. He’s a tall, affable man of middle age, whose manner displays competence and confidence, and rightly so, for except for the wet wall, which must first dry, he dispatched all of the problems in no more than 15 minutes.

He showed me how to fix the loose door handle with the use of a hex key or Allen wrench, an implement not in my toolbox but will be from now on. The repair wasn’t hard to do, once you know how to do it. Nor did the other problems require an advanced degree. You learn by doing. Perhaps he began by watching his father make repairs. I’m sorry I didn’t ask him about it.

Nobody’s perfect, of course, not even me, so I suppose I shouldn’t feel so bad that I’m all thumbs when it comes to making a repair. I can change a light bulb. I can hammer picture hooks into a wall. I can even attach a new plug to an applicance's electrical cord. But beyond these elementary activities, I’m at a loss.

My mother used to say that a woman admires a man who can fix things. I wondered at the time if this was a veiled criticism of my father, who as far I can remember wasn't very handy – but then he was away at work most of the time and enjoyed few opportunities to display whatever talent he had in that direction. Nowadays, many more women learn to fix things themselves, so my mother’s generalization about women’s admiration for men who are handy may no longer be sound.

But I admire a person who can fix things. When I went to college more than 60 years ago, I had to pass a swimming test in order to graduate. I wish I had also been required to pass a test of making elementary repairs. Now, of course, it’s easier to call a handyman than to learn to make the repair myself, but each time I call one, I feel a bit diminished. Still, were I to start learning now, I’d probably cause even more damage that in the end would have to be repaired by somebody else. It’s hard to get it right.

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