There's been a lot already written in our local newspapers about the upcoming Norwich elections this November. It’s been intimated we could be in danger of trading freedom of choice for freedom from choice. And there's more than a germ of truth to that fear.
There will be a lot more written from now through November in this space, among others, on who should build Norwich, what they should do and how they should do it. This may be a part of all that, or not. I can only promise no monkeys (so far) were insulted in its writing.
This happened when I was a Jersey Boy seemingly in another life. I was helping a friend on a renovation at his house. I should point out even then I had no mechanical ability-but I wasn’t alone and there’s safety in numbers if not on the job site. Bob was very much the brains and the rest of us were the brawn as we worked together to get the job finished without injuring ourselves.
There's much to be said for enthusiastic beginners but you can't hear most of it over the whine of electric saws. One of the helpers, John carefully rooted through the nail bucket while sorting them out and placing them in three piles, one nail at a time. He worked with admirable single-mindedness of purpose.
Bob was watching John as well as the rest of us and after about a half hour or so wandered over to ask John what he was doing (admittedly more directly and far more colorfully, but you probably already guessed that) when what he wanted to know was why.
John explained how he sorted out the nails to Bob. The first pile, he said, were rusty-they had oxidized or been left out in a storm and exposed to the elements and John was reluctant to compromise Bob's project by using them.
Bob explained how even the rusty nails could be cleaned with just a few seconds of effort and while they were not actually new, they could be made to look as good as new and in this case that was good enough. John slowly nodded his head in assent but you could see in his eyes his heart wasn't sold on the argument.
Turning to the second pile, and holding up a couple or three nails to illustrate his point, John said those nails, as Bob could see, were bent and twisted and entirely unsuitable for Bob's project.
Bob said a few taps with a hammer could straighten out most of the bent nails while pliers could work wonders to flatten the twisted ones. Bob scooped the nails up and assured John he'd take care of them himself.
That left them to deal with the third pile. For this one John had the most direct of answers-the heads, he told Bob, were on the wrong end of the nail and he was preparing to throw them all away. Bob told him to hang on for a minute while he processed that answer and then explained those nails were for the other side of the wall.
John, satisfied with Bob’s explanation and happy to help, went back to work. If you're thirsting for a moral, here's the best I can offer you (and it's pretty good): though none of us would have been anyone’s first choice for a construction crew, we were certainly willing to try.
And as Bob found out in the course of the days we labored, sometimes we were more trying than others. But together, our hearts and his head built a house that stands to this day
-bill kenny
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