The Baling Wire Engineer
Greetings neighbors!
You’re receiving this second installment of Seasonal Ramblings about a year after the first and, if I'm doing my math correctly, I should have written two more of these between now and then. My first year in business has proven to be very, very, very busy, and the bandwidth left for writing has been zero: a great problem to have for a new business owner, if I must say. Have it in good faith that going forward, I’ll hold myself to the intended quarterly schedule of this journal - publishing around the Solstices and Equinoxes.
Before we get started, I would like to take a moment to say thank you to all the people I have had the pleasure of meeting this first year in business. As of this date, I’ve served nearly 100 households, and nearly half of you have had me over more than once! Y’all have been wonderful collaborators and I can't begin to express how grateful I am to be a part of this community. You truly made it easy for me. A huge thank you goes out to my family and friends for their unwavering support - especially in the beginning when I needed it most. Last but not least, I have to thank my loving partner, Kathleen, for being right there in the thick of it with me every step of the way. She herself is embarking on some significant life change and I can't wait to see what the future holds for her and us together.
And now, in honor of the winter season, I present to you The Baling Wire Engineer.
I first heard the phrase “baling wire engineer” from my Mimi as she used it in reference to my Papaw. It's farm slang for describing a particularly resourceful person, a MacGyver of sorts, one who can fix, improve or build something from just a bit of “spit and baling wire” (a tough sort of thin wire used to hold hay bales together). Papaw grew up poor in the heart of rural Appalachia on a tobacco farm. His family grew and raised their own food, washed their clothes by hand, shared equipment with their neighbors, and the little money they got from selling crops at auction went right back into the farm. To make such a life work you just had to be resourceful and a little bit ingenious. But Papaw wasn’t destined to be a tobacco farmer forever. He left town to seek his own fortune and ended up making a living at a number of various occupations, notably at an auto plant in Detroit during that industry’s heyday. Eventually he returned to his hometown of Greeneville, TN and became a lineman for the light and power company. I imagine he was coveted at both of those professions for his problem solving skills and being able to work autonomously.
Both my grandparents, Mimi and Papaw, were heavily involved in their church and community and continued to be so well on into their retirement years. In fact, instead of taking it easy, they joined a group of wandering volunteers called the Sowers. This group caravaned around the country and offered free labor in exchange for a place to park their campers. This was yet another opportunity for my Papaw (and Mimi, she grew up on a farm, too) to fly the baling wire engineer flag. For 20 years they painted buildings, fixed fences, and shingled roofs–you name it, they did it.
My Papaw passed away in April of 2023 at the respectable age of 85. There are very few days where I don't think of him in some way, especially when I am on the job trying to fix a particular thing I haven't encountered before. As young kids, my sister and I visited the Tennessee farm every summer and we got to witness Papaw’s work ethic and resourcefulness frequently. Without his influence, I wouldn't be the same person and probably never would’ve thought starting Honeydew was possible. He was among my most vocal and loyal supporters, and I like to think he’d have been proud and amused that after all the different things he watched me try, I ended up starting a handyman business. I wish I had gotten the chance to talk about this experience with him in person.
I’d say that the most fulfilling part of this job is when I am tasked with fixing or improving something on a budget. It's at these times that the baling wire engineer in me gets to flex his muscles and take over for a while. It’s made even better when the homeowner is involved in the process. Additionally, I’d say that no matter your profession or upbringing, there is a little baling wire engineer inside all of us. Maybe we don't call upon that person much in this contemporary life of convenience, but they are there all the same. When we make a meal out of random ingredients from the fridge, or when we discover we can fit more clothes into the drawer by rolling them instead of folding them - that's good ole’ human resourcefulness at work. I’d encourage all of you to identify those little moments of ingenuity and say to yourself “yes, I too am a baling wire engineer.”
PS. If you read my first post, Shed For a Sibling, I had mentioned that I’d let you know what I have been listening to on the job and what I’ve been eating for lunch. Well, I listened to a lot of Caroline Polacheck this fall, and all the artists that would pop up on her radio station. And I ate at Angel’s Latin Restaurant II on Ulster Ave whenever I could (get the stewed chicken over yellow rice with pinto beans and plantains).
