Not all the skills that I picked up at home came from dad. Mom left me some skills that have proven to be helpful, essential, and in one case gave me work. When I was young, I didn't just mope about the house whining about how boring my life was. For that matter, I wasn't in the house much in my free time. I did though, absorb things when I was there. For instance, I can sew. Well, every sailor should be able to sew.
I do the hemming around our house. Anybody needs to have their new pants shortened, I'm your man. A little blind stitching on the cuffs of your suit? Pas de sweat. In fact, when it was time for me to become a machine operator (sewing machine, that is), we went to the Mothers' Day sale and brought home the Singer, for me. It's not all straight forward though. Thimbles aren't made for men's large fingers and when I show up at FabricLand for thread or what-have-you, the ladies speak slowly as to someone retarded. In my defence, I do own a sailor's palm and sail needles.
I can wash my own clothes, without mixing whites and colours. I have been successful in not shrinking too many things. When I am travelling, I don't need to resort to rummaging through the laundry bag to find the cleanest dirty shirt and underwear doesn't get worn on both sides. One of the chores as I was growing up was doing the laundry. It started when I was six. Dad had bought what he thought was a great deal, a washing machine that had a horizontal drum - much like today's new machines but this one was loaded from the top. When it was spinning, it used to walk across the room so we kids were planted on top for ballast. That one was replaced by a wringer washer and when we were older, that became our job.
I was always in favour of food, bread especially, so I learned to bake when I was quite little. I could make Finnish Pulla when I was seven or eight and pies before I was in my teens. Roasts and cabbage rolls and salt salmon were not a mystery. When I worked for the Federal Fisheries, I was sent to the counting fence at the head waters of the Skeena River. Now there is a road into there but in the 1960's the only way in was by river boat from Topley Landing near Smithers. When the boat coming to fetch me hit the beach, an old man and his bag came flying off and the first thing anybody said to me was "Lord I hope you can cook!" The previous cook, unfortunately, was fond of his booze so he was sent packing. Cooking wasn't a problem so I cooked for half a dozen guys everyday and for a dozen or more when guys who had been counting fish on the spawning creeks came to camp.
The first day that I had the whole big crew for dinner, I made a large roast, veggies and some apple pies. The men were all seated on both sides of the long table, napkins tucked into their shirts, cutlery at the ready. I was using a side table to carve the hot roast and I just don't know how it happened but the roast slipped to the floor. All conversation stopped and I froze. Finally an old hand with a gravelly voice said "Well are you going to carve it?". Problem solved.
All the skills that I took away from home were pre Game Boy and X Box. Most of it was picked up just by watching or asking to help. How is today's little tyke going to learn anything useful if he is in the living room shooting bad guys when mom is making dinner?
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