Blogs, Dads And Hammers

My family knows I blog. That includes my in-laws and probably a few aunts, uncles and cousins. I think that's a good thing . . . most of the time. However, after I received comments from some fellow bloggers noting how nice I was on-line, my dad did threaten to post his own comment "to set the record straight." And after I posted a blog detailing my earliest childhood memory, my mother said it was "full of crap." Those comments notwithstanding, I believe they enjoy my on-line scribbles.

Anyway, after posting my last blog which featured my dad as Mr. Fix-it, I got a long distance phone call. To the best of my recollection, it went something like this:

"Yeah, this is your dad. Hea, do you ever proofread your blogs before you put them in?"

Oh, oh. No telling where this was going.

"I do. And Wendy always previews them. She said it looked good," I said referring to my wife's read.

"Well, I think you made a few mistakes," dad replied. He said he didn't understand the problem with my shower diverter, and something about my being semi-skilled didn't set right either. But what he thought was a major blooper was my describing workers erecting an outdoor play structure as using ball peen hammers.

"Do you know what a ball peen hammer is?" he asked.

"Ummm, yeah. It has a metal ball on the side where the claw usually is," I replied.

"They use that in manufacturing, to bang on metal, to shape it and stuff."

"I think there was some metalwork there in---"

"No, no, no. They wouldn't use a ball peen hammer. If they're driving nails, they'd use a claw hammer. You wouldn't use a ball peen hammer on something like that."

Now to be honest, the city pitched in to erect this play structure about 15 years ago. I don't remember the types of hammers they used. Ball peen hammer was the first type that came to mind. I'm not all that sure they used wood lathes either, which is something else I mentioned. My point was that amidst all these skilled workers using carpenters' tools, my lack of handyman knowledge relegated me to shoveling wood chips.

I always thought writers were granted a bit of literary license, to dramatize, fudge or otherwise embellish what might be hazy in their memory. But as far as ball peen hammers and my dad go, I've learned my lesson. And I edited and republished my last blog to replace ball peen with claw hammers.