Today, we attended the memorial service for one of my wife’s grandfathers who recently died. His death was not unexpected and we had the wonderful opportunity to visit him in the hospital a week before he died at home under Hospice care. While at the service there were reminders of how valuable Dads are.
Dads are our biggest asset when we are young men. They teach us things about life. They help us understand the difference between hot and cold, sharp and dull. When my dad accidentally drilled a hole in his finger (holding the board on the opposite side he was drilling), I learned not to do that. Sure, there were things he taught me without the need to draw blood. One thing was how to treat women right.
When I started getting interested in girls, so long ago now I can’t remember when that was, my Dad told me one thing: Never do or say anything to a girl, you wouldn’t want some other guy to do or say to your sister. Well, that sure put a damper on things. Mind you my sister was younger and it wasn’t until -after- she got married, that I finally got married.
I’m not sure this little teaching of Dad’s is what kept me from marrying so long, but his advice was sound. He had lots of good advice, just like Shelley’s grandfather did to his kids. Today I had an opportunity to live those ethics.
While leaving the service, I needed to move our Jeep from it’s impromptu parking spot next to a fence to where the others could get in. As I began to move forward I managed to run over a field tap on a water main line. I didn’t realize it was there, and it wasn’t until I felt a bump as I slowly drove forward that I found out. Suddenly a large geyser of water erupted behind me. I suddenly felt like I was in a movie and had just run over a fire hydrant. All eyes were on me. Now what?
I moved the Jeep so the rest of my family could have access, but I knew we wouldn’t be leaving soon. I had caused a problem and I needed to help fix it. First I needed to understand the source and destination of the water. As it turned out, it was the main line that fed both the church and the mobile home on the property. The owner knew where the main shutoff at the street was located, so he showed me and I turned it off. I told him I would be happy to fix the broken pipe pay for the repairs.
When I first reviewed the situation before the owner came out, I found what had been a simple brass hose bib attached to plastic pipe coming straight out of the ground. It had only been mounted about three inches from ground level and had been covered with a red plastic can. How I missed it earlier when parking, I have no idea. As I ran over it, the hose bib broke off a the plastic fitting. Being plastic pipe, I knew it could be an easy fix, I just needed the parts.
The owner was quite content in just sawing off the old fitting and placing a plug over the top. He had a spare end with a twist cap, got a hacksaw and allowed me to set into his fix. But it wasn’t good enough for me. It must have been the Boy Scout along with the Integrity my Dad taught me. Capping this wasn’t going to do, after all he’d just have to shut the water off again to install a new hose bib. That and I discovered his threaded cap had no washer.
I determined exactly what materials I would need, made a mental list and headed to the hardware store. Luckily there was one close by. I purchased a new plastic pipe fitting to replace the broken one, a new brass hose bib, some Teflon tape, pipe cement, a small cinder block and a 5-gallon bucket. These parts were a small price to pay for helping someone out with a bad situation that I had caused.
Back at the property I attached the bib to the new fitting using the Teflon tape. After cutting the old fitting off, pipe cement primer and then cement were applied to both the pipe and the new fitting. I slid it on and turned it to create the cement seal necessary. After a few minutes allowing it to set, we turned the water back on. Success, there didn’t appear to be a leak any longer. The impromptu water fountain I had created in the church parking lot was now fixed. Just a couple more details and we could be on our way.
After verifying the pipe was sealed and not leaking, I put the cinder block around the fitting, with the top of the block higher than the hose bib and partially buried. We mound up dirt and gravel around it and then placed the large bucket, upside-down over the entire affair. Then we mound up dirt and gravel around that. Now it was protected with a much larger bucket, -and- a cinder block that would hopefully protect the hose bib from the next unsuspecting driver.
As we left about an hour and a half later than planned, I felt a satisfaction that I had done what I was supposed to. I accepted the responsibility for my action, even though it was an accident due to my own inattentiveness. I thought about how some people would have simply left, telling themselves it was some other persons problem. But for me, it’s what my Dad taught me, to take responsibility for my own actions, to do what is right, to stay until the job is done. It also helped that he showed me how to do plastic pipe fittings long ago.
Looking back, I didn’t know Shelley’s grandpa at all, but in the time I knew him, he reminded me very much of my own Dad. He was a good common sense kind of guy. He knew how to do things and he knew when to laugh. I’d like to think this little adventure at the end of his memorial was a tribute to his generation; a generation that took care of other people, took responsibility for their actions and did the right things to fix them.
And maybe some day my son who is now six years old will remember the day his Dad spent an extra hour and a half helping some folks get their water back, because Daddy accidentally caused the problem and took the responsibility to fix it. And maybe he’ll understand and be that kind of person too.
Asa Jay
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