My Name is Ed

¹If at first you don’t succeed try, try again. Right. That’s what my father told me over and over again. That’s what my coach told me over and over again. They never had to build a fence though. Or maybe they did but that’s not the point, this whole fence-building thing just isn’t working for me. My tool belt keeps jabbing me in the stomach, my hat was either too tight or the wind blows it off. I think you get the point.

I clenched my jaw and swung the heavy pry bar at the aging fence boards in frustration. I was so sick of this. Well you know what happens when you swing a tool out of frustration? Yep. That’s right. It flies out of your hands and embeds itself in the windshield of your neighbor’s Lexus. Great.

After the long explanation a couple of phone calls and $350 I was back to work and the windshield repair guy was replacing the destroyed glass. I decided that it was time for a new tactic. Besides my wife had now forbidden the use of the pry bar a decision my neighbor wholeheartedly supported. I walked around to the other side of the fence and, what possessed me I am still not sure, lashed out fiercely with my foot. I know. I know. Not exactly the brightest thing to do.

It worked great for about the first four or five times, just long enough for me to get overly confident in my aim, and then well… I missed and scraped the edge of the board down the ridge of my shin. By the time I stopped screaming and pulled myself out of the fence, our neighbors and the repair guy were all rolling on the ground laughing hysterically. I’m not sure which hurt more, my shin or my pride. I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work. – Thomas Edison.

That’s how I was starting to feel. With a sheepish grin I climbed back behind the fence where I couldn’t be seen. Ok hammer time. I picked up the hammer that had fallen out of my tool belt and started pounding the boards out towards the front of the fence. Why I didn’t think of this before, who knows but it worked great. Then the artist in me took over.

I am often overcome with the need to step back and see the bigger picture that my work lives in. So I stepped through the fence and right onto the point of a nail embedded in one of the recently removed fence boards. I grimaced at the pain and tried to catch the fence as I lost my balance trying to get my foot off the nail. Don’t step in my shop without boots on boy! My shop teacher’s advice slammed into my head while gravity slammed my body into the pile of nail-studded boards.

I am usually good with blood, but the feeling of nails impaling my shoulder and side, that was something different. I tried to roll away and discovered more of those nails. With that I stopped and screamed. I screamed like a little kid whose finger got slammed in the door. I screamed until my neighbor and my wife came and helped me get up off of the nails. They helped my up and I limped slowly away from the fence, my new arch nemesis.

After having survived watching the Doctor and nurses stifle their laughs as I explained my wounds, I stood staring at the fence again. My kids had carefully removed the danger of the boards, stacking them in front of the house. I have not yet begun to fight! – John Paul Jones.

I hated that fence. There are no other words to describe my feelings for it. It had hurt every part of me and I wanted to make it hurt. I moved towards the gas can sitting in the entrance to the garage. I lifted it and stepped towards the still standing fence as the sun began to set. I paused for a moment looking at the pathetic fence and then poured the contents of the gas can all over it. I stepped through the hole, gas can still in hand, and retrieved the matches from the grill. I lit a match and threw it at the fence. The heat wave that struck me rippled my clothes as the flames engulfed the fence and raced along the ground towards me. Great. If at first you don’t succeed…