Dad proudly announced at every opportunity, “Everything on this farm is held together with baling twine and bubble gum.” I’m not sure if its a trait of all farmers or just Dad but he was a “good enough” kind of guy and that’s the way I learned things.
Getting the broken item fixed quickly (before Mom’s temper exploded) was Goal One. There wasn’t a second goal. After the fix, any tool he used was left where it lay or if he was outside, tossed through the door of the ramshackle shed.
It came as a great shock to me when I moved in with Husband and he pointed out that the job was not complete until everything was put back where it came from. Fast forward twenty years and although I’m not as meticulous as Husband, I’ve come to expect a certain standard of repair and order.
Yesterday I went to the hardware store to buy a five-foot closet rod. When the salesclerk was unable to find what I wanted, he said, “Well…this will probably work.” It was a hundred degrees outside and I really, really did not want to go to the big box store so I picked up the “good enough” and headed to the cash register.
A picture of my childhood bedroom flashed before my eyes. Closet with no door, an unfinished plywood floor and a rod that collapsed if more than three hanging items were attempted.
I did an about-face and returned the good-enough item and, after wandering the store for twenty minutes, found the exact thing I needed.
I could finish by saying Dad would be proud of me – but that would not true. He’d be prouder to have walked into my closet and seen a pair of old shoes attached to the wall with twelve rusty nails supporting the handle of an old broom.
CRAZIE TOWN 
I think I married your father.
Our saying was binder twine and spit. My dad would sharpen the knives and then my mom would cut herself till they got dull again.
My dad left tools where ever he walked or stood. I try not to be like him. It’s good that you found what you needed at the store.
Dear, Yvonne. I had no idea there were other Dads out there like mine. Good to know. 🙂
Fabulous!! What a great profile of your dad.
My dad was not like that. He picked up tools, put them away, made sure the job was finished to his somewhat exact standards. Me, I had a habit of leaving tools lying around.
However, since Cliff comes behind me and puts things away somewhere known only to God, I’ve gotten better at putting them where I can find them.
Our farm was held together with baling wire, not twine. Sturdier, no doubt, and it never went anywhere. I still pick up strands of wire when I’m up there, minding the rusty rough edges, and there’s still posts along the fence line sporting a rusty coil.
Dear, Janet. Bailing wire? I’m not sure I know what that is. But, yes, rusted wired — barbed wire — found everywhere on our farm.
Bailing wire is the same as twine except wire. And without the barbs of barbed wire.