I spent all four years of college with the same roommate. His name was Jeff, and he was a true pal. We made great roommates because our personalities matched so well... both a little goofy, both a little geeky, both a step to the left of the mainstream, neither giving a damn.
We also made great roommates because of the stuff we owned. I had a stereo and he had a TV. Roommate wise, in 1990, that was a perfect match.
One of our prized possessions was a hammer. I don't recall how we found this hammer - or if it was the hammer that somehow found us? I don't know. I just remember opening a drawer in the kitchen one day, and there it was. There SHE was.
Yes, our hammer was a she. She had a silver metal top and wooden handle, just like any other hammer, but our hammer was different. Scribbled in black marker down her handle was one word: Mom.
Initially, we debated whether it said "mom" or "wow," and though wow would have been a better name for a hammer, we stuck with mom - with good reason.
Much like a real mother, mom was always there for us. She helped make our world a better place. If something was broken, mom helped us fix it. If something was really broken, mom would put it out of its misery.
When I graduated college, mom stayed behind with Jeff. He was on the double-major five-year plan and had another year to go. Truth be told, mom loved him more.
Today, while digging through my urban-geek toolbox (the one with a spare USB hub, an Ikea picture hanging kit and extra parts to things I no longer own), I found my hammer.
My hammer has no name. In fact, I don't even know why I own it. Like mom, I have no idea where this unnamed hammer came from. Do people 'buy' hammers? They seem to somehow just show up where I live.
I've never claimed to be the most masculine of guys, but my hammer is a wuss even by my standards. It's got a sticker on it that says "PLAY SAFE. WEAR GOGGLES."
Play? Goggles? WTF?
It should have a sticker that says "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET ME OUT OF HERE. MY OWNER IS INEPT. IF YOU FIND ME, STEAL ME. PLEASE!"
My hammer has nicks and scrapes that suggest it used to hit things, once upon a time, but there's little thwacking going on in my apartment. I mean, really... what would I hit? I'm not the abusive type. ...sigh... I should probably set the unnamed one free...
Maybe mom was right to stay with Jeff.
I used a totally lame hammer to build a fairly macho play structure in my back yard. The neighbor Dads would come over and watch me whack away at the nails, and then walk back home shaking their heads. I kept thinking I should really buy a new hammer. I still have the same one. Have you thought about using your's for cracking nuts open?::::: | September 18, 2004 9:12 PM