The first sweltering afternoon we offered them a couple of fans, which they hauled up the stairs. But after a couple of days they inquired about the effectiveness of the appliances. 

 

"Excuse me, but they do not cool off the room."

 

John followed them up to the highest point in our home and confirmed that indeed the attic was toasty. Then he noticed that the fans were propped against the walls.

 

"It works better if you stand them in front of the windows, and pull the hot air out. Then at night you turn them around to draw the cooler air in." He kept quiet about the stress on the motor from being asked to suck the paint off the wall. He moved them to a better position. There was a noticeable improvement in a few minutes. 

 

He shook his head as he relayed the story. Wasn't it obvious how to circulate the air? Apparently not. 

 

When I set up the machines for sewing class, I make sure they are all primed and ready. But half way through the class a little girl or two will complain that they are broken. 

 

"Mrs. Lori, the stitches are all tangled. Can you help?" I swallow any comments about the innocence of the indicted Singer and guide the slender thread around the tension wheel. Why are kids so quick to fling blame at the machine, instead of their treatment of it?

 

I used to fault John for his reaction to my queries about finances. 

 

"Did you submit the FAFSA?" 

 

"Did you call about that error on the credit card statement?" Appallingly, he would growl like a fan overheating, or a Bernina whose bobbin is clogged with lint. 

 

I am learning that there are more effective ways to draw out the answers. 

 

 

"I really appreciate you doing dishes last night. You are my hero."

 

The thought occurs to me that it may not always be him who is at fault. I could learn the aerodynamics of the male mind from a book like For Women Only. Maybe we would both cool off.

 

Photo by Joy Feerrar

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