July 13th, 2020 arrived like any other high desert day, blue sky-ed sunny. It was going to be a beautiful week of perfect weather. In the back yard, the temperature stayed pleasant in the morning. With a 10:00am service, we would be in the shade of the RV barn by the time it became uncomfortably warm.
Details were checked off the master list. Tables and chairs were in the RV barn, with tablecloths and other essentials still packaged and awaiting placement. Plenty of nervous, helpful hands would arrive to set up the tables and chairs when the kids came the next evening. CC, my dear and beautiful life time friend would be arriving in the afternoon to help assess the progress and advise on what else needed to be finished.
Toni’s Floral was confirmed for a Wednesday 8am delivery. The guest picking up the sandwiches at 9am was on point. Cupcakes were ordered from the Raley’s. My normal Walmart run was full of the essentials needed for a house full of company. The kitchen was going to be used as little as possible until Thursday morning, when all this would be in the rear view mirror.
The centerpieces were a stroke of genius, the most fitting tribute to my Handy Man. VST LOVED his tools, as any guy does, and tools he had. Cabinet upon cabinet of them. Air tools. Hand tools. Plug in sanders. Vices. A Sawzall. Table saws. Hand saws. Saw Horses. The list was endless. For years, we owned multiple houses, with concurrent projects at each one, requiring the purchase of duplicate tools and devices. Hence, the garage was overflowing. His tools were VST’s favorite possession.
The oldest ones were from his days as a mechanic at the John Deere Dealership in Fresno. This was the home of his first career, starting at a young tender age as a field mechanic, and working his way up through the ranks to retirement as the store manager after 26 years of service. During this time, VST would engrave his initials on each Craftman’s wrench and anything else that might walk away. He always prided himself in not needing to buy extremely expensive tools, because a real knowledgeable technician would be able to fix things beautifully with less.
I LOVE these tools. They came to live with me when we married. I have watched, through project after project, as the need for a specialty item would arrive. It didn’t matter, be it automotive or construction, the reaction was the same. He would stop and think carefully. I could see him going through an inventory thousands of items long in that big old brain of his. He would stop and, always, in the same way, a clever smile would cross his face, and he would say, “Hang on, Darlin'”. He would dive into just a certain drawer or cabinet and come out with the exact thing needed. He saved every bolt, nut, and wire, because, in his words…..”You just never know……..” These tools are hard for me to look at some days. Other days, I go in the garage just to be near them again. For me, tools are extremely sexy. Knowing how to use them skillfully, even more so.
Over the weekend, I had found the wrench drawer, packed full with set upon set of wrenches, varying in signs of use. From the tiniest to the ones I needed two hands to lift, I filled a bucket with them and went into the kitchen. Lovingly, I washed each one with Dawn. It cuts the grease off anything, right? Sure did. Then, I filled my dishwasher with the fairly clean wrenches, one cycle leaving them gleaming.
For Centerpieces, each table had a combination of wrenches, sockets, a measuring tape, and a few pliers and other miscellaneous tools. On the tables were snack size bags of Peanut M&M’s, his favorite food to munch on when figuring out his next project. There were also individual bags of almonds, his next favorite food. The centerpieces sat on baby blue tablecloths, bringing a smile to anyone that really knew VST. This captured memories of the beauty he brought into the world with his projects, lovingly designed and expertly crafted.
Monday afternoon, the party began with my bestie, CC arriving first. After such a long drive, we got takeout and enjoyed a terrific visit. It was a special evening for just us two. So many things to talk about and remember, we chatted into the night. CC had been there at the very beginning, she and I being partners in crime since our children were babies.
One of the funniest memories was something that occurred right after VST and I had moved into our first new home in December of 1987. A doctor had built it for his wife in the 50’s and it was a step back in time, down to the blue and white tiled kitchen. One would expect June Cleaver to come around the corner, with every detail decade specific to mid-century modern decor. We had assumed the loan on the house, it being at the outside limit of our budget. With 5 children, ages 6, 8, 8, 11, and 11, the backyard Olympic size in-ground swimming pool complete with diving board was perfect for us.
The Master Bedroom was over the garage, with a set of stairs leading to it from the family room. Upstairs, the large bedroom had a spacious bathroom, also 50’s style. The louvered door going into the bathroom wasn’t sound proof. There were spaces between the slats through which something could be slipped.
With the quick engagement and wedding planned with the speed of light, many were counting on their fingers, sure that baby number 6 would be along shortly. Not to worry. I think that was one of the first 10 questions we covered. “Do you want another child?” The resounding and simultaneous “NOOOOOO!” was comforting to us both. The family we would blend were the exact children sent from God to our care. Our new family was perfect as it was. Five was a wonderful number.
CC had reservations, as did everyone. Two crazy 30-somethings meet at the class reunion, propose and accept marriage, and three months later are getting hitched and buying a house. The betting odds were definitely against us.
On the December day in question, I was upstairs using the bathroom. From the throne, there was a direct view of the closed louvered door. I was in a very intense conversation with CC when out of the corner of my eye, I saw the biggest Rambo Knife I had every seen sliding through a space between slats. Slowly. Deliberately. The knife I had never seen before was sinister. Evil. Grooves for blood letting. At least 18″ long, or so it seemed. Up and down, through the slat it moved without any sound.
“CC”, I whispered in the softest voice. “VST is pushing a huge knife through the door.”
“Whattttttt? Joy, how well do you know him? Are you okay? Do you need help?”
The conversation kept going, all heard by VST on the other side of the door, who was getting boyhood HaHa’s out of the entire situation. He finally ceased and went away. Boy, did he catch hell while he just looked at me. Laughing, he pulled me close, and gave me the best kiss to calm me down. That boy was a prankster, loving every bit of it.
Monday came to a quiet end. Tomorrow, DA Girl would arrive, along with T and K, and 5 of the grandchildren. It would be then everything would start to gel and become more real. There was no stopping this train. The thoughts and plans of the last three months were now visible and a reality. Chairs were in place. Everyone was ready. Was I?
To Be Continued…….