Diamond in the Rough

Why do we sometimes allow ourselves to go on a wild goose chase...

For something that is right smack dab in front of us?

A lyric to one of my new favorite country songs,

“Don’t try to outsmart your own common sense,”

Epitomizes the story that is about to unfold.

The irony in this yarn is that I am currently sitting on my front porch,

Drenched in sweat,

Drinking a cold beverage,

Taking a break from the battle I wage with my hand-me-down lawnmower,

Which is the subject of tonight's tale.

Even though this mower and I have been

Embarrassingly seen by many “Laportians,”

Making a tumultuous struggle on the front slope of my lawn,

Similar to the way Steve Carell and Tina Fey awkwardly dance in Date Night,

I still utter a silent word of thanks to my mother and her friend,

For bestowing me with this generous gift.

Without this Toro grass cutter,

I would be unable to chop down the jungle

That overtakes my yard every two weeks

Or less…depending on the amount of rainfall.

And, I certainly wouldn’t have made a trip to Dushore, PA

To have my first experience at Bill’s Hardware,

A diamond in the rough.

Let’s back up a bit.

My first wrangle with this prarie buzzer,

Way back in June,

Required several laps across the same stretch of grass

Just to see any noticeable results.

Like trying to saw your leg off with a butter knife,

The blade was simply THAT dull.

This is where the scavenger hunt began.

My distrust of massive corporate chains

Should have been reason enough to embark locally on my quest.

However, still clutching to the excuse that I was a relative newbie to the area,

I didn’t give it much consideration.

Time wasn't a luxury this summer.

Although, (foreshadow) I ended up wasting a lot of it

By underestimating the practicality, foresight, and utility of

SULCO's small business owners.

So, I sacrificed a perfectly good day for making headway on the house,

To set out in search of

A replacement lawnmower blade.

No rock was left unturned:

Wal-Mart,

Tractor Supply,

Lowes,

Home Depot,

And, even a one-man Toro shop in Millville,

Were subjected to my singling out of their associates,

With the broken-record question, “Excuse me, please. Do you have a 17 ½ inch lawnmower blade?”

Some of the people I asked looked at me as though I was asking to buy a machete!

Jeez!

I was sure I couldn’t be the only one looking to preserve an antique.

There had to be some honor in my mission.

Preventing waste should be considered American, right?

Apparently, the longevity of my red grass eater, was the problem.

Age discrimination!

Since this beast was purchased in the mid 70’s,

I needed a Toro blade of an irregular size...

At least by today's standards.

I guess it’s no wonder that pinning one down became an arduous task.

So it was a bit of a surprise,

At least in my mind, when

Bill’s Hardware Store came to my unexpected rescue!

This is not tomfoolery.

It’s the truth.

This small-town shop, approximately ten miles from my house,

Was the ONLY place I could finally find the right size.

Like Cinderella…the slipper fit!

When I told the kind lady at the sales counter that I had searched

Half of Northeastern PA for this item,

She casually responded that this product was

"Just the sort of thing Bill keeps in stock."

Good to know.

I decided to tuck that golden ticket away for future use.

And, the kicker, was in her next comment,

“You should have looked here first.”

Ha!

Yes....yes, I should have.

Eureka!

But, the new propeller for my rusty plant whacker ended up being only part of this pinnacle event.

For, my first impression upon entering the establishment was, “What a charming store!”

I had lived in Sullivan County for at least two years,

And, shamefully I had never set foot in this place.

I guess I never really had a reason to before this day.

Home ownership has resulted in several "firsts" for me this summer.

While I didn't know the owners,

I could easily sense their dignity.

The store was spotless and immaculately organized.

Kind of an oxymoron in my mind.

Tools and cleanliness usually don’t go hand in hand.

An assortment of preserved wildlife adorned the walls.

And, as you’ve already figured out from the first find of my treasure hunt,

The inventory left virtually nothing to be desired.

Neither did the clientele.

While I wandered around the shop,

Two young men from New Jersey were busy placing a hefty order for wild bait.

I caught snippets of their requisition.

All forms of minnows with appetizing names, suckers and chubs.

Arthropods like crayfish and crabs.

Mollusks such as mussels and clams.

And, of course, nymphs, larvae and pupae of all insects spending any part of their life cycle in the water.

A crash-course review in living organism classification.

Meanwhile, an elderly woman stood in line,

While the Chinese pug at the end of her leash

Wheezed and drooled on the floor.

I wondered how the owners, of this pristine place, would feel about that.

All of the slobbering on their freshly vacuumed carpet.

If the shopkeepers were disturbed by this,

They must have restrained their true feelings to their inside voices,

For I couldn’t detect any animosity towards this patron.

In addition to the entertainment provided by the customers,

My visit was about to get even better...

I discovered I could purchase a two-year registration sticker for my kayak.

This task had been put off for more than a week.

And, I found a much needed,

Petite bag of potting soil.

Just the right size!

A flowering plant was rapidly becoming root-bound on my front porch,

And was in dire need of a transplant.

For the record,

A bag of soil, this size,

At this late interval in the summer, was also

Out-of-stock

At any of those one-stop-shop chains.

Guess convenience stores are only convenient when it's convenient for the bottom line.

Did that even make sense?

I'm sorry.

Anyhoo...

The moral of the story is that

It wasn’t hard to be won over by this hometown entrepreneur.

I just killed three birds with one stone.

When it was finally my turn at the register,

I placed my items on the counter,

And lifted my gaze.

My eyes fell upon a hand-written sign,

Hanging like a mistletoe,

A once-a-year treat,

From the archway,

Leading back into the “Employee’s Only” storeroom.

The sign cleverly read, “Bill will still restore your sole.”

This was the icing on the cake.

A pair of jeans that fit just right.

The ultimate feather in the cap!

I loved EVERYTHING about this savvy sign.

To me, it meant the proprietors could work hard,

Take pride in their business,

And still HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR!

Hooray!

In case you couldn’t inference from my sheer excitement,

I had fallen head over heels for this pun!

It not only showcased a lost art,

Shoe repair,

It satisfied my daily need for spirituality.

The meaning was two-toned.

Not only could Bill fix my sole,

But, as the message implied, he also could save my soul.

FINALLY!


I am a sucker for all styles of wordplay.

Palindromes, idioms, spoonerisms, onomatopoeia,

Alliteration, similes, metaphors, personification...

And all the other foibles inherent in the trickery of our language.

Thank goodness the words “sole” and “soul” are homophones and not homographs,

Like “record” and “record” or “read” and “read.”

Real confusion could have resulted otherwise.

Imagine people lining up at the door of a hardware store for a Sunday confession.

A fun picture in my mind.

All I know is that before I ever set out on a futile search again,

Spending more money on gas to fuel my car than it would have probably taken

To just break down and buy a new lawnmower,

I will be certain to make Bill’s Hardware in Dushore my first stop!