I'm Channeling My Grandfather

Now isn't that a pretty piece of work? Would you hire me as your handyman? This is the latch on the child gate at the top of the stairs. The gate is top-rate, but the Home Depot screws that I used to mount the hardware must have been factory rejects, because they sheared off in the stud after only five or six months. Instead of just replacing the screws, I invoked the spirit of my grandfather Jule, threw aesthetics out the window, and decided to make darn sure that the latch would never break again. The solution may be ugly, but the gate is now guaranteed to withstand opening and closing at least 50 times a day, a swinging toddler, 100 pounds of labrador mutts barreling into it, and any other abuse it will certainly endure. I think Jule O. Pritchard would be proud.

I remember when I was about 3 or 4, I had a plastic suitcase with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs on the front, and I would pack my PJs, wind-up Pooh Bear, and toothbrush in it when I would travel the long half mile to spend the night at my Grammy and Poppa's house. One time while I was visiting them, the cheap plastic handle broke, and I am sure I had a cow. My Poppa, however, was my hero, and promised to make it better than new. Now, Poppa was a man whose best advice to me may have been "Always use the right tool for the job." He probably also believed that you should only fix something one time. In other words, fix it so it will never fail again, even during nuclear fallout. What he returned to me was my delicate little white plastic suitcase, complete with a one-inch thick knotted rope handle!