Skills? Yeah, Right

Even though we moved away from Fresno a year ago, we still go back every month or so for a variety of reasons. And so it was that I found myself having Starbucks coffee at Fig Garden Village this past Thursday with my buddy Bud Elliott, who not only is the co-proprietor of this blogsite but — even more impressively — had an outstanding TV news career, including time spent in, yes, Fresno.

We share coffee often when I’m back in town and talk, as “old guys” do, about a variety of very important things. The most important, of course, is our health. As we’ve found out, getting old and older is not easy. It’s tough. We’ve both gone through a few things in recent years that we would not recommend to others, and talking about it seems to help both of us.

Of course we both still have strong opinions about the broadcasting industry we’ve retired from, and we share those thoughts. It’s probably a good thing those folks now working in “the biz” don’t hear us — but it was also probably good that “way back” when Bud and I started — WE didn’t hear what THOSE  “old guys”  said about US.

Anyway, one of our topics this past week was “skills” — as in, the ability to build or fix things. Bud has them. I don’t. In recent years, Bud has become something of an expert at “wood turning” — although he denies any special knowledge of this. In his words: “I wouldn’t say I have skills — but I’ve learned enough to make things.” (How do I know those are his exact words? Because I wrote them down on my brown Starbucks napkin, that’s how — and because that crinkled napkin is now just inches away from my laptop. Once a journalist, always one, right??)

Anyway, Bud regaled me with a story or two about how he’s made bowls and vases and other things. He created those only after he had properly purchased  the appropriate tools and devices.  I told Bud I was impressed, and I am. And I’m happy to tell the world about it. (This blog DOES go around the world, doesn’t it?)

Now compare my conversation with Bud this past Thursday with the one I had at that same Starbucks in Fig Garden Village a month ago with another old TV friend of mine –John Malos. John and I once worked at the same Fresno TV station, but that isn’t all we have in common. We also both once worked at NBC – the big network, not that cable stuff. John worked at 30 Rock in Manhattan about the same time I was gainfully employed at the peacock net’s West Coast headquarters in Burbank. Heady stuff, right?

And yet there we both were, at that Starbucks in Fresno a month ago, talking about — yes, skills. Specifically, our spectacular lack of them. You see, unlike Bud, John and I don’t know how to build — or fix — anything. John told me about how he recently had no clue – none whatsoever – about how to remedy some kind of electrical problem at his house, or how he could not fix a recent sprinkler-system issue. In fact, he seemed to be boasting about his lack of skills.

Not to be out-done, I attempted to one-up him by outlining my complete lack of skills. I told him about my inability to fix anything – anything – that goes wrong with our cars or at our Central Coast retirement place. Everything I told him was, unfortunately, true.

I’d like to – but won’t – blame my inability to use my hands in a productive construction or repair manner on my dad. After all, he knew how to fix anything and everything. He was an auto mechanic by trade, and his considerable skills under the hood apparently also translated into skills everywhere else. He’d crawl under our house in Fresno and lay electric lines. He’d crawl up into the attic to put in vents. He’d build six-foot high redwood fences all by himself.

Dad could do it all, but because he had grown up poor and never went beyond high school, he HAD to do it all to make a living. So when my brother and I came along, he decided that his kids should never have to make a living by needing to build things. He wanted us to use our minds, not our hands. And so he purposely never taught us how to do what he could do. To this day, my brother — who is a decade older than I am – has no earthly clue what to do when his car starts making strange noises – except to drive it into a repair shop. My brother and I are not close, and we don’t share many things in common – except for our glorious ineptitude when it comes to fixing things.

The truth is – the only skills I’ve ever developed involve writing words and reading them out loud. I made a decent living, writing and producing and reporting radio and TV news stories. I guess that, technically, I was using my hands, since the fingers I used to type all those stories were, indeed, attached to my hands. So when people used to ask me what I could do, I usually responded by saying – “Nothing, except write and report news.”

And most of the news people I’ve known over these many decades – including John, of course – were – and are – in the same boat that I am. Most had never learned how to “fix” anything, because it did not interest them. Only Bud — and another good guy and good broadcaster named Roger – ever had the skills to build or fix things. In fact, Rog was a construction guru.

Here on the Central Coast, I must admit that I’ve learned more about fixing things, thanks to our neighbor Paul. What I’ve learned is the names of people he uses to fix HIS things.

So when something “goes wrong” around these parts, I’m back to using those same fingers I used all those decades when I was writing TV and radio stories and producing newscasts. And it’s good to know those fingers can still punch numbers into my iPhone so I can contact people with skills – real skills – to help me navigate life’s challenges. But I certainly don’t expect my fingers to fix my iPhone if it breaks. No chance.