My dad is one of the gentlest and most devoted family men you’ll ever meet. He’s most content when he’s with my mom, and he’s never seemed to want much more than to just hang out with all of us.
He’s never been passionate about home improvement; Home Depot is a dirty word in his lexicon. When the gutters needed cleaning, he’d open the bedroom windows and run a golf club through them (since he’s advanced in age now, we call someone to do that, and believe it or not, they don’t use a golf club).
When he discovered that the water pipes in the cabinet under the bathroom sink hadn’t been properly insulated and would freeze up in the winter because they’re against an exterior wall, his solution was to leave the cabinet door open at night. This became part of the regular wintertime routine.
His name being Bill, my mom playfully calls him Willy at times. A remedy like the bathroom cabinet came to be referred to in our home as a “Willy fix.”
Other Willy fixes have involved coat hangers and duct tape or just plain old denial.
I remember when the washing machine would overflow during the rinse cycle, and my parents’ remedy was to hang out within earshot of the machine so that when you heard the water filling up the pipe in the back, you’d rush into the laundry room, stick your finger in the pipe and, as soon as you felt water hit it, shut off the water and let it drain. Repeat this about three times, and you’re home free: the machine could safety resume its cycle.
Now that my parents are nearly 80, my sisters, our husbands, and I have taken over home repair and improvement, and the Willy fix has become a dying art. Though the Willy fix inclination ran strong in our blood for a time, it has been tempered by our spouses’ insistence on doing things the “right” way.
Where’s the fun in that? Aren’t you missing out on something when a laundry cycle does not require acute listening skills and the ability to be quick on your feet? The machine speaks a language in which I had become well- versed. Now it’s just a machine that goes about its business while I nearly forget it’s even there.
My Corner of the Village 