My Husband's Joys

by Velda P. Hancock

My husband is a repair man.  For years he owned and ran the "Big Six Repair Shop" in Thatcher and fixed anything and everything brought to him.  His glory and challenge was to repair things other had decided could not be fixed.  Thus, he made a good living repairing and was happy with his trade.

But now he is 73, has retired, sold his shop, and moved to Mesa, and become a Temple worker.  but the first thing he did was to make himself a shop in the back yard where he staretd fixing a few things.  There were always broken bicycles, tricycles, little wagons, little buggies, go-carts, toy cars, ironing boards, toy beds, toy tractors, scissors, and dozens of other things too numerous to mention.  These he would gather in and repair for kids, grand kids, great-grand-kids, neighbor kids, and old kids.

When he goes to our childrens' places he loads the car down with parts of things that need fixing, or that he could use to repair some other vehicle, or they bring them to him to trade in for bicycles or tricycles, cars, or somehitng he has all fixed up.  It really is a little expensive hobby, for new seats, pedals, trims, tires, welding rods, ets. do cost money, but as he often says--"He has enough to live on anyway."

Needless to say our iron and parts pile grew and grew.  We built a tight board fence along the west side of the lot to store them so the neighbors, who have a different idea of beauty, do not have to look at them, and they are concealed from the public in general who pass along the streed.  I have sometimes mentioned to him that we should get rid of some of that junk, but always meet with chastisemen, cause I am told they are jewels to him.

WE taught our little neighor boys to "bring their toys to the shop when they need repairing."  At first their mother was horrified, but eventually she decided it was no use.  And the happy look on their faces when it was fixed was ample pay.  When he goes to the hospital, as he does for various ailments (for he is a disabled veteran of World War I) the kids can hardly wait for his recovery to mend their toys, and even I have had to try, at times, to fix some broken things when he was gone.

He might become rich from his trade, but for one fact--he does not charge for his services.  His pay is the happy look on oa child's face when he has repaired his toy, or given him soemthing he has made; for fisxed soemthing for someone, for there are a few old kids who benefit from his free work too.  The horror of his lifeis that he might not be longer useful, nor his services needed.  Anyways, "he has enough to live on, why charge anyone when he gets so much enjoyment from repairing something for someone, when no one else can, or will?"  If someone thinks it can't be fixed, and it is discarded that is his challenge, and he fixes it, even if he must get someone to help or buy a book to learn about it.

One day when I went to my sister's place she gave me some flowers.  They have large leaves and beautiful big lavender blooms, but have a terrible odor.  She cautioned me that they grew fast, and spread a lot.  I brough three small plants home and planted them along the fron of the board fence.  They grew nicely and by the time they were a foot tall, started re-producing--going through the fence into this parts pile.  The rich iron in the ground made them grow fast and tall.  he resented them soemwhat for it covered up some of the parts he needed, and a lot he didn't need.  And when he searched among them the odor of the plant was very distaseful to him.  I was secretly amused cause I though they looked better peaking over the fence than the irons, for it was a constant work for me to keep the irons below the fence; when he would hunt for a certain part, and dig it out, the rest didn't always settle down far enough below the fence to not be seen, and the pile was getting so big.

This summer our last grand-kids moved away.  We too, were gone for a full month.  When we returned and he looked at his treasure, the flowers had them almost compeltelyl covered.  He was horrified.  He said, "I must clean out my parts yard and sort them; now that the kids are all gone, maybe I don't ned to make so many tricycles, bicycles, wagons and things, anyway I want to get rid of the weeds and those darn flowers."  I mowed the back lawn so he could pile them all out while he cleaned, hoed and sorted.  I thought I would leave that job entirely up to him--that was his project, but when he mentioned that he might take some to the dump and the Deseret Industries, that was different, anyway when he piled them up all in the back yard it was pile high and exteded to the kitchen door so I could hardlyl get by to the storage room

I said, "Dear, sort out the things you are going to discard and I will put them inthe bus to take off."  So he did--treasures I had no idea he could part with, I  hurredly pu in the bus, till it was full, and he took it to the dump.

The next morning I had to go to the Temple and he wa sleft to finish it while I was gone.  When I returend, he had it done, said he had taken away two more loads, also he had cleared a place behind the storage room for a lot of his choice parts and I thought there mustnot be anything left, but when I looked--there were plenty left for a nest--egg, and to fill the space comfortably.  No, he will never be without things to do, and he is happy that way, and I thank the Lord for his project.