In Other Words with Dave

I’ve been using my favorite screwdriver for over 30 years. The only problem with it is – it’s not mine. It’s Dan’s, my roommate from college, who now lives in New York City. I borrowed it from him in the ‘90s and never returned it.

It’s a little gem of a tool. Has a built-in ratchet, and a little container for the different tool bits. Phillips, flathead, 5-star, etc. – it’s handy. It’s nothing special by today’s standards but, 30 years ago – it was pretty nifty.

Unfortunately, this “permanently borrowed” screwdriver also comes standard with a little pang of guilt every time I use it. Admittedly, never returning it is a slight stain on my character and evidence that I’m not working a program of rigid honesty.

Last year, Alison and I visited Manhattan for a few days. While there, we had the opportunity to meet up with Dan and his wife for an afternoon of museums, restaurants, and reminiscing. It was at the end of our visit that I confessed my decades-old transgression. He paused and said “What screwdriver? Keep it.”

A little confession, a little forgiveness. Now every time I tighten a drawer handle, secure a piece of trim, or replace a tail light – I’m reminded only of our longtime friendship.