A TALE OF THE TAPE...OR HANDLE WITH CARE

Prior to the recent sale of Mama Bore's house, she directed family members and helpers to take what they wanted and put the rest in storage. Surprisingly, there were no disputes over who got what. In fact, no one was all that eager to take anything. I ended up with a step ladder, a paper shredder, a small bookcase, and a few old dishes. Big Bore took some items that no one else claimed from the garage and utility room.

"Look what I got," he showed me after our final work session. It was a 6-foot metal tape measure...old but in good shape. You would have thought he'd found a buried treasure. "Be careful when you use it. If you bend it, it won't retract all the way back," he said.

"I know," I said, rather indignantly. I wasn't born yesterday. But then I got to thinking there was good reason for him to warn me about handling the tape measure with care. I have about as much manual dexterity as a cow and am famously known around our house for my tool accidents--the last one being a few months ago when I tried to saw off a finger.

The next time I talked with Mom, I told her how overjoyed Big Bore was with his tape measure find.

"Oh, that belonged to my daddy," she said fondly. She was a 16-year-old Daddy's girl when he was killed in a refinery accident in 1941. "He never let Meredith (her only sibling) or me touch it. He was afraid we'd bend it. You have to be careful when you use it or it won't retract all the way back in."

Gee, where had I heard this warning before? "Well, it must be a man thing," I told her. "That's exactly what Jeff said."

I don't know who's the source, but there's a good quote for this little story: "The true measure of a man is in how he treats his tools." William Evans, the grandfather I never knew, would be pleased to know his beloved tape measure is in safe hands.