The Fourth of July falls on a Wednesday this year.  One of my favorite blog posts, the Fire(Working) Man, ran on a Wednesday Fourth of July.  It’s about my father, Herman.  He made a good living “working for the man” and has enjoyed twenty-plus years of retirement without sending my mother Helen out to work a part-time retail job.  Thank you, Man, for taking good care of my parents.

I don’t have a problem working for “the man.”  As one wizened old prevaricator once said “we’re all working for the Pharaoh.”

Right.

A few weeks ago, Herman came over to cut some brush in my yard.  He had his chainsaw, his protective eyewear, and his hard hat.  It was a small job, quickly disposed of without any accidents.  As we walked back to his car and I thanked him for helping me, I said “they don’t make them like you anymore, Dad.”  It sounded saccharine to the passerby, but I chose my words carefully after gratefully contemplating my father’s help in this hour we spent together.  My imperfect father could build a few things if he needed to and then generally Mickey Mouse things around the house as needed.  When his work failed, he would pay someone to build or fix it.

Last weekend, I repurposed a Colavita olive oil can into a planter.  Why Colavita?  I like the flavor.  Is it the best olive oil?  I don’t know.  Would some wizened prevaricators offer up “truth” on the Italian olive oil syndicates?  Sure.

Not concerned about these things, I easily removed the top of the Colavita can with a CAN OPENER!

Then, channeling my inner Herman, I took a hammer and an old screwdriver to the bottom of the can and pounded a few drainage holes.

Although the planting season is rapidly passing, I’m hopeful for these nasturtiums.

Accomplishing small things is liberating, no matter what the wizened prevaricators might tell you.  On to the barbecue!