It’s
Made For Ducts
There’s
something about the word “ubiquitous.” Ever since I learned
what it means, I see it everywhere.
Duct
tape is ubiquitous. So are the jokes about duct tape. There was
even a book written about the ubiquity and utility of duct tape.
I've never read it.
All
the hooplah about duct tape is probably partly due to the fact that
duct tape is actualy quite useful in myriad applications. While
it's certainly not pretty, if I need something to stick securely
to something else, duct tape will be somewhere near the top of my
list of adhesive options.
What
do they call duct tape in West Virginia?
Chrome.
I've
used duct tape to hold parts of my car together. I've used it to
hold old books together. I've used it to hang stuff up. I've used
it when I want my kids to keep quiet (at least as a threat).
The
fact that I do not use it when I want something to stick
temporarily is a testament to its usefulness, especially when a
stronger, more permanent bond is required.
We
had some work done on our furnace. There was a ventilation problem
that was causing the pilot to go out, so we called a HVAC guy to
come and fix it.
After
the HVAC repairman was finished, he asked Laura and me to have a
look at what he did to fix the problem. He explained what he changed
and why it shouldn’t give us any further problems.
While
he was talking and pointing with the beam of his flashlight, my
wife noticed the duct tape that was holding some metal together.
Laura:
Jim, look at that!
Me:
Look at what?
Laura:
There [pointing]. There’s duct tape holding that
stuff together.
Me:
[now looking at the HVAC guy] Yes, you’re right. I see that.
HVAC
guy:
Laura:
[somewhat accusingly] Well what’s that about? I mean, that’s
part of our furnace, isn't it? Why is there duct tape
holding it together?”
Me:
But those ... are ... ducts, Laura.
Laura:
HVAC
guy:
Me:
We
then all had a laugh.
Thinking
Ahead
I’ve
been studying the back of my hand. A few days ago, it suddenly occurred
to me that I didn’t know the back of my hand very well. In
fact, I realized that I wouldn’t recognize the back of my own
hand in a line-up, and that could pose a problem, if you think about
it.
In
our culture, knowing the back of one’s hand appears to be an
important cultural prerequisite. It would appear, that in order
to know anything well, one must first know the back of one’s
hand. There’s just no way around it. So what does this say
about the things I know, let alone the things I claim to know well?
One
must simply ask oneself, “How well do I know the back of my
hand?” Another relevant question would be, “Should I be
concerned that there are things that I know better than the
back of my hand? And what exactly does that say about me?”
For
example, I know my own face better than the back of my hand. I also
know the faces of my wife and children better than the back of my
hand. I can’t speak for the rest of society, but the back of
my hand doesn’t pass through my field of vision very often,
and when it does, I’m not usually paying as much, if any, attention
to the hand, but rather that which my hand is moving toward.
Furthermore,
what is it about the back of one's hand that is so distinctive that
one would so readily recognize it? Sure, some are more hirsute than
others. Some have freckles. Others have protruding veins and muscles.
Some are more wrinkled than others. Some are more tanned than others.
But the diversity that is afforded by those few categories doesn't
compare to the innumerable variations we find in the palm of the
hand, or in the human face.
But
apparently, if I want to claim knowledge of anything, or knowing
anything very well, I need to know the back of my hand much better
than I do. So I’d better get busy.
NFPS.
Look,
there’s plenty of stuff going on inside my head, but it’s
not for public consumption. I know, I know. My loyal fans who devotedly
read this blog will be disappointed. But profundity is just that
way. Paradoxically, it never comes when you want it or when you
think you need it. In fact, quite often it comes when it is perfectly
useless. Like right now. As I began to type, I had no idea what
would come out of my mind and onto this page. Yet here it is. Pointless
profundity.
Anytime
Phrase™ #110
“‘Cuz
that’s what rock ‘n’ roll is all about!”
-- Paul Stanley,
Kiss Alive, 1975
