"Just For Pretty"

Many years ago, while in the Air Force and then working for Lockheed Aircraft, I used to be able to troubleshoot and repair airplanes—at least most of them. (No, the rest didn’t crash—someone with more skill and knowledge took over!) For a long time I assumed that those qualities were transferable to our cars and our home. Whenever anything needed repair I would studiously troubleshoot the situation and narrow down my diagnosis to the most probable causes. I would then purchase the appropriate parts and the tools to install them. In most cases, that bill would be somewhere approaching one hundred dollars considering the fix attempted after the initial fix. (And that doesn’t take into consideration any structural repairs, Doctor bills, etc.) Once I’d “given it my all” and perhaps sacrificed several knuckles, I would call in a professional to save my tarnished ego and reputation.



After consultation with my wife (a very perceptive and wise lady), I’ve come to the conclusion that my talents are not in home repair. That actually is a relief because it is embarrassing to try to keep up a façade while juggling more and more broken and unfinished projects. Our home is over forty years old (and I can be a bit clumsy) so things seem to be constantly breaking, leaking, or mysteriously collapsing. This morning I broke a brass stair railing support but that is another story.


I have a morning regimen when I get up. One of the first things I do is to walk to the kitchen sink in my bare feet to drink a glass of water and make coffee for “my bride.” Several days ago I thought I felt moisture on the carpet in front of the sink. (Yes, one of those rooster carpets.) I thought it was just my imagination since my feet aren’t as sensitive as they used to be and I’d just walked over cool Pergo flooring. The same thing happened the next morning and yes; it was wetness. I put the carpet out to dry and then looked for the source. Fortunately, it was obvious and easy to access. All I had to do was open the cabinet doors beneath the kitchen sink and my wife immediately spotted water running down a chrome drain pipe.


My cheap thriftiness kept me from immediately calling a plumber (and usually a high paid helper). Later in the day I called a friend to see if this was a “plumber” or a “handyman” job. He asked, “Do you need chrome and will anyone see these pipes?” When I asked what the alternative was, he gave me a quick education. It seems chrome is much, much, more expensive and prone to leak (and rust) after an extended period of time. Chrome is used in a highly visible situation like exposed bathroom fixtures. The alternative is P.V.C. (plastic) pipe which is cheaper and virtually indestructible once properly installed. To some, the downside is that it is ugly.


My mind shifted to the human “fixtures” of life. Some appear to be, as the Pennsylvania Deutsch (Germans) would say, “Just for pretty.” They may be in positions that require public exposure and therefore they need to be clad in “expensive chrome plating” and I understand and respect that. However, my heart goes out to the multitudes of “P.V.C. folks” who play such a valuable utilitarian role in my life. Many have given up on their dreams of ever being “chrome plated” for their fifteen minutes of fame and may in fact feel “second class.” To those folks I would like to just say “thanks.” I salute you for the valuable background roles you perform so honorably and dependably to “keep my life from leaking.”