GIRLS, UNCLE JOHNNY, AND A BUCKET O' TOOLS

My real Uncle Johnny was killed at Pearl Harbor before I was born. But my brother-in-law, (if you live in Maryland, take your car to his shop--John Hook Automotive in Beltsville, MD) is widely known as Uncle Johnny. I've been calling him Uncle Johnny for years. I spent a weekend in September with Uncle Johnny, my nephew Rich and my niece Michelle helping my sister relocate to a new home after she lost hers in Hurricane Irene. Kind of a personal "H4H" weekend--we were there to work hard. Uncle Johnny came prepared--his own power washer, a generator, a bucket filled with incredible tools, tubes of caulk, sheets of green board drywall. Over the course of 48 hours, Uncle Johnny taught me to: rip out a bathroom wall and build a new wall using green board drywall; mud & tape that wall; frame out a window; powerwash a building using a mix of bleach and water; build a landing and a set of stairs. But even better, he taught me how to use all these great tools. Did you know there are different sizes of hammers? Drills are magic--they do everything. Mud and tape is pretty cool, and framing a window isn't so hard. That rubber mallet does a million things without scratching. And the most important of all--use the right size screwdriver. I mean, really. It makes a big difference. I am one of 5 daughters, so no one ever taught me about home improvement, AND I LOVE IT. I've now re-grouted my bathroom. Painted the exterior of my house in San Francisco, complete with scraping, sanding, patching, caulking, priming, and painting. Yep, that was me on the ladder. Got 2 bids, one for $3100 and one for $2500. I did it myself. I keep getting up in the morning and going outside to gaze at the back of my house. I did this, I repeat again and again. I assumed that Johnny's father, Buck, taught Johnny this knowledge. I was certain it was passed down by men from father to son, and girls just got the short end of the stick because our fathers didn't teach us. But that was npt the case with Uncle Johnny. He taught himself. He said a project would come along--he is part of a faith-based network that tackles building projects on behalf of vulnerable populations--and he taught himself. All his hand tools are jammed crazy together in a big paint bucket filled with just about every useful tool you could need or want. I thought about Clint Eastwood's film Gran Torino when he explains to a young Laotian immigrant that a man spends a lifetime acquiring his tools. Well, I'm a girl and behind the power curve. But I have my father's wooden measuring stick from the 1930s. I have an electric screwdriver. I have needle nose pliers, and regular ones, too. Now I have tools to apply grout. Lots of paint brushes and caulk. I need a caulking gun. I want new tools for Christmas. I want to renovate my downstairs bathroom, myself. Forget perfume and jewelry. I want my own bucket o' tools. Thanks, Uncle Johnny.