Friends,<\/p>\n
When we were kids, we used to call Dad’s work truck his purse. Mom’s purse was usually an enormous handbag with every conceivable item to address every conceivable contingency. Band-Aids, breath mints, toothpicks, tiny sewing kits, and safety pins were all there. Mom’s purse is much more modest these days, but Dad’s purse, long after he’d retired, contained everything you’d need to build a house. Once the pickup truck was retired, a subset of all of the tools<\/em> made its way into his Jeep. Power tools yielded to a corded drill and an extension cord, but the utility was retained.<\/p>\n I have continued this tradition. The tools in my Jeep could help you find faulty circuits, drill holes, attach things to other things, and fix a lot of plumbing problems. It’s, essentially, my purse. Last weekend, I hitched a ride to the desert with my sister to see Mom for her birthday. The purse stayed here for the first time, which was really weird.<\/p>\n What if something breaks!<\/p>\n I guess we would’ve tried to figure it out. But nothing broke. If you listen to Mom’s concerns our childhood home is falling down, but it’s actually highly unusual that things break over there. She was fine. I was fine. We had a great time.<\/p>\n There’s a lesson to be learned here.<\/p>\n Your pal,<\/p>\n – bob<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Friends, When we were kids, we used to call Dad’s work truck his purse. Mom’s purse was usually an enormous handbag with every conceivable item to address every conceivable contingency. Band-Aids, breath mints, toothpicks, tiny sewing kits, and safety pins were all there. Mom’s purse is much more modest these days, but Dad’s purse, long … <\/p>\n