Don’t look at me. Just because I’m an American male doesn’t mean I’m an expert at home repairs or upkeep. Quite the opposite. After buying an old house, I miss the option of calling maintenance at the rental office. The guys who knew how, or could at least fake it until the specialists were called in.
There are assumptions, indeed. And a learning curve.
As the poems in this collection acknowledge, Home Maintenance is about much more than driving a nail or remodeling – it’s about a husband and father’s place in the family household.
It’s nothing that shows up on the radar of romance, either. But it’s essential in a lasting relationship.
And then you’re also part of a neighborhood. For better or worse. Hey, Tim, can I borrow your table saw? By the way, how am I supposed to use it?
So here we are, growing together. As these poems record.
For more on my poetry collection and others, click here.