Touch the wire

Years ago, when I first bought my condo, I decided I wanted to install track lighting in the living room. After watching a few videos on YouTube, it didn't seem so difficult, especially because I had done some electrical work with my dad in the past. The only tricky thing about electrical work, really, is just making sure you don't electrocute yourself and die. No big deal. So when I started the project, I turned off the appropriate circuit breakers so I could safely do the install. But my voltage tester said the wire was hot. I was confused, so I called my dad. He told me to check the breakers again, so I did, but the wire still said it was hot. My dad told me I probably bought a cheap tester, and the junky ones don't work. He was right. I bought the cheapest one I could find. So I said, "Well, what do I do now?" He was quiet for a moment then replied, "Alex, I'll tell you a secret about every electrical job I've ever done: At some point, you just pray to God, then you touch the f-ing wire."

I share this story to highlight what I believe made my father a true Renaissance man. Most people say they have a "love for learning," but few people actually spend time learning anything, and fewer still do anything with what they learn. It turns out the first step down the path of knowledge is the hardest. You have to have enough initiative and gumption and courage to pursue something new. That's what my dad had. My whole family talks about how smart my dad was, which was true, but I think his actionable hunger to figure it out and get stuff done was his real gift. For example, I bet many people think about how cool it would be to learn how to sew. But my dad is the only person I know who read books on it, bought a sewing machine and spools of material, and then started sewing wall- and barn-sized drapery for weddings and events. He thought beekeeping sounded fun, so he learned that. He learned how to make bread. He started drawing and painting a couple years ago. He always only decorated one Christmas cookie or Easter egg, and it would be the best one in the bunch. He built a house, transformed a barn, raised chickens, fixed a tractor, and, yes, learned how to grow flowers. Anyone who knows my dad would say he struggled with being "happy," whatever that means. But he was very good at remaining entertained. Active. Distracted. Engaged. As I get older, I'm starting to think that being busy is a better goal than being happy.

I won't lie that I've had a rough last couple of years, and I've been struggling to find joy in life. I think because I've been burned a bit lately, by the universe and by my own choices, I'm scared. To try new things. To even re-try old things. But I have a feeling my dad would say that all that worry and fear about the future is just a bad reading from my cheap, broken tester. I think he would say I need to jump into life and pursue all of the crazy ideas I have and do all of the stuff I'm scared to do, but I know in my heart I need to. I think he would tell me, tell all of us, it's time to pray to God, then touch the wire.