One man ’ s quest to learn how to do it all ( or anything , really ). BY JOHN TARABORELLI
A
S A SEASONED WRITER FOR THIS AND OTHER LOCAL MAGAZINES AND a communications professional currently working a desk job in higher education , I am well-equipped to thrive in a complex , knowledge-based global economy . The problem is I don ’ t know how to actually do anything useful .
I can ’ t build or fix anything . I don ’ t hunt , fish or forage . I ’ m not prepared to defend my home or protect my family in case of danger . I can ’ t sew a button , sail a boat , treat a wound or drive a stick shift . If you sent me alone into the wilderness with all the essentials of survival — a tent , guns , knives , simple tools , a first-aid kit , maps , compasses , rope — I ’ d probably be dead in a matter of weeks , if not days .
How did this happen ? How did I make it into my forties while remaining capable of almost nothing useful ? How have I come so far yet learned so little ?
I think back to an interview I did a few years ago for this very magazine with Paul Amaral , a former boat builder who now does high-end fabrication for fine artists . He grew up on a farm , where early in life he learned the value of knowing how to work with one ’ s hands . “ You didn ’ t have money to fix the tractor when it broke , so you learned how to fix the tractor ,” he told me . “ You didn ’ t hire somebody . You did it yourself .”
This hints at one of the reasons I never learned to do anything useful : I never really needed to . I grew up in the suburbs , not on a farm , and the only land we were responsible for was a patch of grass .
Neither did I grow up assisting with projects around the house . I did my share of mowing lawns , shoveling snow , taking out trash and the like , but I never swung a hammer or turned a wrench . My father , while known to tackle the occasional home improvement project , wasn ’ t especially handy and thus did not guide me as his apprentice . I never stood by dutifully holding his beer and pointing a flashlight while he wielded power tools . More often than not , if we needed something fixed , we called a guy .
I recently decided this lack of practical know-how had gone on long enough . It ’ s not just that I ’ m now a homeowner with a light over the kitchen sink that doesn ’ t work , not one , but two screen doors that don ’ t close properly , and a stack of pavers in the backyard for a patio project we have yet to begin . Being handy around the house is just one part of this .
If we ’ ve learned anything from the past several years , it ’ s that anything can happen . The comforts and conveniences of our modern lives are more precarious than we care to admit and at any given time we could be one stranger-than-fiction turn of events away from some sort of Thunderdome scenario . If we suddenly find ourselves living in a world where knowing how to write a good press release no longer makes one a desirable team member , I want to be able to bring something else to the table . It ’ s well past time to get crash courses in a few of the things I managed not to learn on my pathway to adulthood .
People say you can learn how to do pretty much anything by looking it up on YouTube . They ’ re not lying . Some examples include “ How to Become a Falconer ,” “ How to Design the Perfect Trebuchet ” and “ How to Get Started in Witchcraft .” But I prefer in-person learning .
I consider turning to professionals , but I want to convince myself that one need not be an expert or have formal training to
56 RHODE ISLAND MONTHLY l JUNE 2022
ILLUSTRATION BY VINCENT ZAWADA