9. A Lesson in Lan-Lin

Today is 31 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.

I love to make things with my hands. I’m not an expert by any means and don’t do it enough these days, but I truly enjoy working with wood, painting, drawing, and creating. The pen I write with every day is a pen I made in the little workshop of my house. I love writing with that pen. I think that my love of working with my hands comes from the early lessons that Dad taught me out of the little toolshed we had in the house we lived in.

I grew up on Merrifield Road. I spent my entire life living there in the same house until I went to college. All my memories have that house as a base, and several of the stories I’ll tell about Dad will probably involve that house and yard. One of the most vivid memories I have is the little toolshed that was built-in to the house right near the stairs of the back porch. 

Dad kept all his tools there. It was about 6 feet wide by about 12 feet. It wasn’t big enough to work in, but we worked out of it. I thought my dad knew how to fix anything in the world and that he had every tool known to mankind out in the toolshed. He was amazing. 

That toolshed was my favorite place to explore with Dad because that’s where he taught me the names of tools and how to use them. Sometimes it was a simple job for just a hammer or screwdriver. Other times it got more involved with a crescent wrench or channel locks. On fun days, the job required a can of Gunk or Liquid Wrench. As I got older, Dad would tell me to go get the tool he needed. I loved knowing which tool he was talking about and would run to go get it. 

I also learned that when you’re done using the tool, it needs to go back in the place where you got it from. I’m not sure I learned that lesson as well as Dad wanted me to, but I’m still working on that.

Then came the ritual. Whenever we would finish the job, Dad would grab the yellow can of Lan-Lin hand cleaner. Dad brought it out to the spigot on the side of the house in our driveway. He took the lid off and I saw an off-white, yellowish-looking gel inside. He stuck his dirty fingertips down in that stuff and pulled out some on his hand. Then he rubbed it all over his hand and it made his hands clean. I did the same thing and was amazed at how it took all the dirt away. Then we’d wash our hands with water from the hose bib, put the lid back on and put everything back in its place.

That process is something we repeated countless times over the years. Lan-Lin was more than hand cleaner to me. It was the memory marker of the times my dad spent teaching me things that I still do today. The tools are cooler now and the technology is better, but a hammer, screwdriver, and wrench can still solve most problems around the house. 

I don’t think they make Lan-Lin cleaner anymore, but I just bought two vintage cans of it online tonight. I’m not going to use them, but I will put them in my workshop that is getting renovated right now.

Those cans will remind me that a person needs to be taught the names of tools. They will remind me that my dad didn’t just have me watch him use the tools; he taught me how to use them. And they will remind me to pass on that lesson to anyone who comes in the shop. 

Come on over sometime. We’ll make a pen. You can write a letter to someone you love and tell them a story about something called Lan-Lin and a man named Steady.