A FLAIR FOR REPAIR
Handyman kept the whole neighborhood in good working order.
Across the front of the sweatshirt I held up to show my husband, Don, was the phrase “Grandpa: The Man, The Myth, The Legend.” “Will Dad wear this?” I asked. “Probably not,” he said. I knew Don was right. My dad, Bruce Musterman, was way too humble to wear anything like that, despite his celebrated status in our family.
He was the fix-it man, able to repair anything: the leaky hot water tank, the washing machine that refused to spin and the car air conditioner that blew hot air.
When I was 5, I got a Chatty Cathy doll, a 1960s miracle of toy technology. Everywhere I went, Cathy went, too, until she was no longer chatty. I was devastated. But I should have known that a dad who could repair refrigerators could figure out how to make Chatty Cathy talk again.
Dad saved my Brownie camera and my junior scientist microscope. He fixed my brother’s cap pistols and little toy cars with windup motors.
Dad mended TVs, radios, toasters and percolators, and we got frequent phone calls
Was the church having plumbing problems? Call Bruce!
from the neighbors requesting his expertise. Was that engine idling too fast? Did someone’s dishwasher have a leak? Was the church having plumbing problems? Call Bruce!
When he occasionally ran out of things to overhaul, he built something new: a cabinet, a garage, a back porch with stairs.
As a teen, I looked up to my dad less and less. His limitless ability to fix things didn’t work for my problems with friends, or help my angst over homework or career choices. My grumpiness didn’t seem to bother Dad. When my car broke down and I called him for help, he just fixed it.
When I married Don, he wasn’t a handyman. But over the years, my dad helped him replace the roof on our home and repair every one of our major household appliances. With Dad as a master teacher, I figured my husband would eventually inherit Dad’s
DIY crown.
To everyone’s surprise, our youngest daughter, Teresa, is the one who’s taken on that role, and she now wears the tool belt in the family. Just like her grandpa, that girl can fix anything.
My dad is now in his 90s and can no longer lift things or handle heavy tools. Teresa encourages him to “supervise” when she is doing a repair, and we remind him that she inherited her uncanny handiness from him.
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