DIY
My father, born in 1913, a solid member of The Greatest Generation, was a hard working, practical man. He worked 6 days a week, 8-10 hours a day. On Sundays, his day off, he worked around the house, fixing things, building things, like a brick outdoor grill. I wish I had a picture - it was amazing.
I followed him around because I was waaaay more interested in learning how to use tools that make things than tools that clean things (that my mother wanted me to learn).
He taught me how to soap a screw, which is rolling the threads of a screw over a dry soap bar so it would slip into the predrilled hole easier while using a handheld, non-electric screw driver. He also taught me how to use a hammer so a nail would go in straight. I may or may not have practiced that skill with a pound of ten penny nails on an old pine tree in the backyard. I can still hear my dad yelling, “April, where are my nails?”
One of the long lasting lessons he embedded in me, that I have depended on all of my life - if you want something done - do it yourself. It was more than a philosophy or mindset that established a perspective deep in my already strongly intuitive/independent mind. It prepared me to be solution oriented and to think out of the box - to see with imaginative vision. This has been both an advantage and sometimes felt like a curse because it’s frustrating to be able to see plainly what others cannot.
Years later, when I was working as a prototype craft designer, I referred to this as ‘making do’. When you are creating a prototype you are making something that did not exist before. If you are a designer without access to a factory, you have to repurpose things that already exist.
Try explaining to the old man in the orange vest at Home Depot that you need something that looks like this that you can put on another thing that fits on a different thing that’s no bigger than... .
I know the blank, mouth slightly ajar, look so well.
Over time, as I moved into other art forms, it became routinely about finding workarounds, problem solving, and less about not depending on anyone else to do or even understand what I wanted/needed done. It slowly became a lifestyle wherein I could recognize things as potentials as much as actualities. Like when four ingredients could make a delicious peanut butter cookie instead of the twelve listed in an award winning recipe.
I was already a rogue veteran of do-it-myself when along came the Good Housekeeping TV channel influence on folks who were bent toward doing their own ‘making’ and ‘doing’ and ‘fixing’ trend. Do It Yourself officially became a way of life and a trademark.
DIY™
But, of course, things evolve and change so now the Youtubers who DIY are now doing what is referred to as Life Hacks. And I’m fine with that - makes me no never mind what it is called. It all comes down to the reality of humans using their brains, asking questions, being zetetic, coming up with substitutional fixes.
My parents, who lived through the Great Depression, were experts at Repurpose, Do It Yourself, Make Do and Life Hack - in the end it’s about seeing bigger, wider, being creative, applying logic and reason to everyday life.
Which is what makes humans unique living/thinking, not artificial beings.
So actually this is a much bigger topic.
I know AI is swooping in as well as all our devices, autos and appliances pinging and dinging telling us what to do or not, basically removing our accountability/thinking function, but I cannot stop being a free thinking, self-dependent, doer of things for myself ... just because I use high tech, which, of course, includes the internet, a cell phone and digital books.
The point is that I use it, I don’t intend to let it use me.
DIY
Life in Lyrics - my lyrics made into music by SunoAI
Meemanator’s Youtube.



You taught us all so well to think out of the box and to be doers of creating!!!! That is part of your legacy for sure 💜
A long time ago Barb and I were in a Pier One store, and a child knocked over a large ceramic decorative plate, which shattered.
It was going to be thrown out, when I asked if we might purchase it. Barb was horrified, but we took it home and started piecing it back together. It's about 90% complete, the best we could do, but somehow it's more dear to us for the scars and the memory of effort than it would have been had it never had been broken.