By Mike Gordon
Advertiser Staff Writer

My daughters call me the "fixer guy." It's a broad title that goes beyond mere repairs. It's sort of a lifestyle. At least, that's what it feels like.

When something breaks, they come to me, pieces in hand. When they want a shelf, I build one.

They know I'm happiest when I have something to work on — the gates I built, the sprinkler system I put into the front yard, the ceiling fans I hung, the bicycles I've painted.

A recent birthday gift of tools prompted one of them to say: "Look Dad, now you have a Big Boy Tool Set."

Not that I am especially good at using any of my tools. I just muddle through things until I'm finished.

But finishing a project, like last Sunday's mini-remodeling of their bathroom, is the best stamp of success for any weekend.

I think it's a guy thing. Whether we are good at it or not, men — most men, at least — like to build things. It doesn't matter that the job is small; the finished product can be deeply satisfying.

That I even attempt to build or repair anything still surprises me. Where I come from, being able to operate a circular saw or owning a cordless drill practically makes me a god.

I wasn't raised by parents who were handy, tool-loving people, so none of this came naturally. In fact, my father owned only six tools: A hammer, two crescent wrenches, two screwdrivers and a rusty saw.

And he wasn't much good at using any of them, although he tried.

As a boy, I was embarassed by this.

I envied my friends whose fathers remodeled their homes, and I can still remember the day I shared this with my parents, prompting them to re-varnish our kitchen cabinets.

I still feel bad about that.

But my parents bought me tools. Socket wrenches, screwdrivers and a saw. I still have them.

When I met Mrs. G., I hit the tool jackpot, even though I didn't realize it at first.

Her father was a contractor, and he had taught her right. Besides being witty, beautiful and all that stuff, she knew the value of a good tool. And she could wire an electric plug into a wall, too.

At first, I had trouble with the concept. We even argued over the very first tool she bought me, a power drill. I thought it cost too much.

Then I fell in love with it.

Take it from me, that's how male tool lust starts. It wasn't long before I could buy any tool and Mrs. G. didn't care.

You'd think that would be enough to keep me running to the hardware store every weekend, but in truth, some of my first tools scared me. When Mrs. G. gave me a circular saw as a gift, all I could think of was a guy I knew who carved open half a thigh with his saw.

Somehow, I figured it out. This is not my father's tool box we're talking about. It's mine.

Now, I'm even shopping for the biggest saw I've ever thought about owning, a chop saw. The girls want closet organizers and I can't say no to that.

I'm the fixer guy.

Reach Mike Gordon at mgordon@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8012.