They called me Mr. Primitive in my shop class in Jr. High School. These were the days in which dinosaurs roamed the earth, students used slide rules, people played vinyl records on a record player, gas was considered high priced at 35cents a gallon (and you could fill your car’s tank with $5 of regular), McDonald’s hamburgers cost 10 cents, cheese burgers 15 cents, and there were no cell phones and no internet.

I was in 9^th grade, and it was required that all boys in 9^th grade, (not girls, there was no Women’s Lib in those days. Women’s Lib meant that mom bought a new clothes washer), take wood and metal shop. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps it was pre training for serving in Viet Nam, but to me there was neither rhyme nor reason to this concept. I was planning to attend the “College of my choice” and had no need, desire, nor mechanical bent to do build-it-yourself projects. As much as I protested, I had to take Shop class. A full year of fumbled fingered frenzy, and I was full of fumbling fingers, or to be more correct, thumbs. I was all thumbs when it came to working with my hands. I had no desire to work with my hands, except on dates, which eventually came to pass (but not soon enough for me). I couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler (still can’t but don’t care), didn’t know the difference between a buzz saw and a buzz cut, couldn’t open a pen knife with out cutting myself (or my shop teacher, but that is still today a sensitive area that I don’t even wish to think of). Work with my hands? You’ve got to be kidding!

I have changed some as I matured. I do know which end of a screwdriver to use and I know that you never mix ammonia and bleach together (a very harsh lesson, which I believe every boy has learned early in life). I now realize that a hammer isn’t used to pound a difficult piece into a plastic model of an airplane and I finally even learned to set the digital clock on a VCR. The point is, I no longer consider myself as Mr. Primitive. I have become enlightened to the point that if something needs repaired; I know just what to do…call a Professional. In Jr. High, though, this was not an option and I had no choice… I suffered through wood and metal shop. (more…)