Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year. I’ve had this blog for two years, so I have only 2017 and 2018 to draw from.
Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer followers to some of you earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember?
Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year? Just write a comment below with a link to that post.
If you’ve been blogging for less than a year, go ahead and choose a post that you previously published on this day (the 7th) of any month within the past year and link to that post in a comment.
It would be great if everyone who reads this post would scroll down to the comments and check out the posts that others provide links to.
I originally posted this one on June 7, 2018. It was written in response to a Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt.
The Right Tools
“It’s all about having the right tools, Butch,” my father used to say to me. He used to call me Butch because I guess he thought that made me sound more rough and tumble than I actually was.
“And, Butch,” he said, “if the only tool you have is a hammer, you’ll treat everything as if it’s a nail.”
My father was very handy around the house and he was always building things and fixing things. I did not inherent that skill set and preferred, instead, to wield a pen rather than a hammer.
After I grew up, got married, and bought my first house, though, it became clear to me that learning to fix things and build things had a certain value. So I taught myself how to be handy around the house. I bought all kinds of tools and became quite adept at using them. I was able to impress my wife and kids with my handiwork.
But as I grew older, I became less inclined to use my hammer and more interested, once again, to use my pen. Ultimately I sold or gave away most of my tools, keeping only a hammer, a screwdriver, and a wrench.
My wife has been on my back recently because I haven’t yet gotten around to fixing some shelving in the pantry that had recently broken. The last time my wife nagged me about the pantry shelving, I remembered what my father used to says about hammers and nails.
I turned to her and said, “The only tool I have left, dear, is a hammer, and right now you’re looking an awful lot like a large and very annoying nail.”