“There, that should do it,” announced Jerry to his long-suffering wife. He climbed down from the scaffolding, squinted into the setting sun, and handed an overstuffed toolbag to Evelyn. She was already carrying a flashlight, spanner, spud wrench, and oil-soaked rags, but she silently shifted her load and accepted the new burden.
She was accustomed to the long hours of an obsessive tinker’s pack mule. Jerry had always been a mix of mad scientist, dim-witted inventor, and benign mastermind. Her mother quipped when they were courting, “That boy stays awake nights trying to figure out how to get more sleep.”
Long ago, he had rigged the ranch with a perimeter wire and rigged each sheep with a small battery-powered collar, so an alarm would sound whenever one crossed the line. Later, he devised a system for measuring the rate of grass growth using a complex network of jigs, strings, magnifying glasses, and magnetic latches. He insisted it would help him prepare for the inevitable drought, which never came, but might someday.
But in the twilight of his life, he had become more driven to complete – no, perfect – his pet projects. His latest creation’s purpose seemed a mystery to even him, but he was certain of its importance. “It’s critical we keep this thing out of the wrong hands, or even the wrong paws.” He had scoured the property for timbers of just the right strength, length, and curve, dragging them (with Evelyn’s help, of course) miles from their various resting spots to the sacred hill. He had Evelyn remove the windmill’s drive chain while he dismantled the old pontoon boat. She kept her concerns to herself while she pumped the well by hand for the first time in decades, dutifully bringing his meals out to the hill each day. She caught a glimpse of him taking a small figure from a mahogany box and suspending it inside a cage of sorts, but he shifted to block her view. The weeks swirled by until finally, this day, Jerry would retire this project in order to begin the next one.
She had hoped for an explanation or even a clue to what this chore was for, but none came. He simply dusted his hands off and left her to trail after him toward home. She stared a moment, shrugged, and fell in behind him for the short walk across the island.
February 28, 2009 at 10:43 pm
That was wordier!
February 28, 2009 at 11:27 pm
Now see, the way I am is….I would have stopped bringing his meals unless he told me what that figure was for!! No shrugging off for me…..LOL
March 1, 2009 at 5:40 am
Promise accepted…:-)…weird huh? The dragging and the project words too. Other similarites in there.
And not to break your chops but…”tinker’s pack mule” was all you needed there…not “tinkerer’s”.
Thanks for reading mine and I did like yours. Hey…I stayed under 500! Whoopdepoop!!
There, I changed it – good suggestion! I think this was my shortest Wordsmith entry ever, so I wouldn’t get the axe of doom…
-db
March 1, 2009 at 4:09 pm
Good one, though I, too would not have accepted no explanation, I’d've dropped his stuff, smacked him upside the head, etc.
Begging your pardon, Dave, but I think ‘tinkerer’s’ is the right term. A ‘tinker’ is a traveling repairman of sorts, while a ‘tinkerer’ is one who messes with stuff. From the description given, this fellow is a ‘tinkerer’, and so she would be a ‘tinkerer’s pack mule’
Truly, though, a case of semantics, for the author to decide which the character is.
Whichever, a well written story, even if I don’t identify with the wife!
March 1, 2009 at 4:38 pm
After much debate (ok, 2 little wisps of debate) I like the original sense of ‘tinkerer’ – it’s low on the big-deal scale for me, but it feels more correct.
This story is based on 2 real people, and while it’s hard to identify with poor Evelyn, she’s a spitting image of a frau I knew. She was (still is, for all I know) a pastor’s wife who would follow her feeble-minded husband through all sorts of silly exercises with unflagging loyalty.
The other is my dad, the tinkerer, who had the mother-in-law’s quote ascribed to him – in his high school yearbook.
March 1, 2009 at 5:00 pm
Nope…tinker is the word. A tinker is a tinker is a tinker not a tinkerer ever. “Messes with stuff”…really?? Do you use spell check or a dictionary or perhaps you might have a lexicon. I know how you how might think that. Not the place for this debate and I’m gone. pioden..I’ll be glad to help with what you’re missing here but not here. Sorry db…it’s just the trumpet player in me coming out.
I’ll take this dicussion to the side of the bandstand.
March 1, 2009 at 5:12 pm
I think tinker’s prefer donkeys anyhow.
March 1, 2009 at 5:13 pm
woops – misplaced apostrophe. HATE THAT.
db – can you change that before the entire turmpet section comes down on my donkey?
Thanks man.
(Dave – I keed, I keed!)
March 1, 2009 at 10:12 pm
Hmmm…
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/tinkerer
http://www.thefreedictionary.com/tinkerer
http://wordnetweb.princeton.edu (type in “tinkerer”)
http://www.askoxford.com (oxford dictionary online site – enter “tinkerer”)
March 1, 2009 at 11:16 pm
db – neat references – way to pull in life experiences to your stories! I love the way that gives a great touch of realism.
I find that I’m constantly, if even subconsciously, monitoring what goes on around me, and how different people act and react, thinking, “Oh, that’s what that character could do!” It helps me get away from boring “copies of me” characters.
March 2, 2009 at 2:31 pm
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Thanks for the kind words Mikebot. I’ve deleted your advertisement, but it’s nice to see that me website have being appreciated in Kuala Lumpur.