God Bless Men!

Don't get too excited, guys. This isn't a blanket endorsement. But it is an appreciation of the many men I know out here in MAGA country where I live. Men who seem to have no difficulty understanding that we women--despite the physical limitations we can both acknowledge--are their intelligent equals and that we are just as able to follow and understand instructions, or to participate in discussions about plumbing, electrical work, and the finer points of animal and livestock husbandry as is any man on earth. I think they're the men who instinctively embrace and understand the lessons of the Proverbs 31 wife (because doing so accrues to all our benefit, and they are clever enough to see that, right out of the gate).

You guys who cheerfully help me--almost every time I go there--unload my 50lb bags of feed into the back of my car at Tractor Supply: Thank you. I'm seventy, and my days of tossing around, at will, 80lb sacks of feed from Campsey's Seed and Feed in Claysville are sadly no longer with us. Neither, unfortunately, is Campsey's itself.

You young men, fathers, sons, and grandsons, who show up every year to fill my barn with hay for the winter: Thank you. I did my bit, for decades, in the process of mowing, drying, baling, and "putting up" the stuff. But I can no longer chuck 50lb square bales seven-high, and organize them in the barn. I appreciate your help.

To my young sheep shearer: Thank you. I met you a few years ago, thanks to a recommendation from a neighbor, when you were of such an age that your mother had to drive you to my place, and I sometimes had to drive you home. Come Summer, you'll graduate from high school, and you'll start orientation at West Point Military Academy. They're so lucky to have you. God bless you and the family that raised you.

To the late, lamented "Dave" in electricals at my local Home Depot: Thank you. Your advice was peerless, and--I'm pretty sure--saved my life on many occasions when I had to take over the loathed electrical projects from Mr. She (an electrical engineer by training), upon whom I could rely for so many years, but who began, towards the end of his life, to fail in dangerous ways. (TBC: I hate working electricals, having said for decades that "I don't want to screw with anything I can't see that might kill me." My greatest achievement so far (I think) has been correctly wiring a four-way switch, with a couple of intermediate outlets in the circuit.)

Also, on the subject of the local Home Depot, many thanks to my boyfriend (that's a joke, but I am still very fond of him), Kelvin, who ran the plumbing department for years, but who has since been promoted. He's the one who explained to me that all plumbing stuff is measured through internal pipe diameter. That really helped, but still: Copper, Cast iron, PB, PVC, CPVC, PEX, Galvanized steel, and God knows what else, all have different thicknesses and thread types, and require customization when a person is trying to connect one piece to the next.

And so I learned to show up at Home Depot with two "bits" of plumbing paraphernalia, and saying to Kelvin, "I need to get from 'this' to 'this.'" It always worked. Thank you.

Last night I discovered a leak under my kitchen sink. Now, I plumbed the kitchen sink in 2010, just after I retired, as part of my whole house plumbing project. Still, that doesn't mean I'm totally on top of, or au fait with, exactly what I need to do to fix the problem.

So off I went to Home Depot with (of course) the standpipe bits, and the traps, to make sure I got the right diameters and materials to replace them.

A lovely man, a fellow--if I can use such a word without being accused of unreasonable assumptions or transphobia--customer, spent several minutes chatting with me about the correct pieces to buy.

And it worked!

Thank you.

PS: The poster boy for "men I don't care for" in this regard worked at my local Lowe's a number of years ago. On seeing my stepdaughter and me loading some plywood and other materials into the back of my truck (it was for feed bins), he couldn't resist coming over, leering at us, and yelling, "Building sumpin?"

I've never bought much in the way of construction materials at Lowe's since.