For Oct 24 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 695 words

Manual labor

I know a lot of people who buy stuff. When they open it, they throw the instructions out with the box. Then they assemble the stuff by trial and error, letting common sense, innate God-given ability, and a sense of adventure guide them in the assembly. Looking at the directions, they say, is for wimps and the uninspired.

I don't ask directions on the highway, like any man wouldn't, but I've always been a fan of reading manuals. Before I bought my first dog I read a half-dozen books on breeds, training, and care. I took my dogs to obedience school and listened to the experts. I've outlived nine of them over my forty-plus years, so that may have been a part of it, but either way I picked up a lot of valuable information.

Now, when I'm around dog owners, I critique involuntarily. I can't let it slide. My future son-in-law encourages his dog to chase power-line squirrels in Sacramento, clawing the wooden backyard fence in the process. "Go, boy go. Get that squirrel!" The dog also likes to eat cats, and chew computer diskettes and kitchen knives. I tell him to take the dog to obedience school, but he doesn't want to be told how to raise his dog.

My gosh, I sound like my own grandfather.

After my dog phase, I turned to women. They perplexed me, so I read "The Sensuous Woman," "The Sensuous Man," and "The Sensuous Couple" as a curious young college student. I learned moves that I practice today.

A couple of close friends just got divorced. It saddens me for both of them. I wonder if they read all the troubleshooting tips in the back of the marriage manual, like the one that says, "The vow must be bigger than the pow."

Members of my own family have raised children to adulthood without having the slightest idea of what they were doing, and never once picking up Dr. Spock or any other child-rearing handbook. Most of the kids have turned out O.K., but a few had their hard knocks. The new parents believed they would magically inherit instincts for treating every childhood dilemma from infancy up to adulthood. How-To books gathered dust in the book store, while certain families required two, three kids to get it right.

Every time I visit Nevada I watch people throw away hundreds of dollars in casinos, people who would never spend five bucks for a book on the best odds, a book that they could read on the drive up, a drive that could save them a fortune, a fortune they could spend on their spouse and their dogs and their family. Why won't they read the manuals?

I have a lot of computer students who read the manuals before building a system, and I have a few who don't. Guess who has the most luck?

Quite a few people have a natural talent for raising dogs, finding good partners, playing life's odds, and perhaps installing a CD-ROM drive, but most of us need to be humble with our acceptance of responsibility. We must admit we have a lot to learn.

Susan and I soured our son on manuals by accident when he was small. He would open Christmas toys that needed assembly and toss the instructions away. We let him do it. We used to say, "Look at that boy. He can put that airplane together by looking at the picture on the box. He doesn't need pamphlets. He's a bright boy, very creative, a good son."

Then we gave him a car. The manuals remained in the glove compartment unless he had a flat and couldn't find the jack. Now he's better, but he's some hard knocks and heavy insurance. He used to drive around like he was playing Nintendo. Now he's on a bicycle, in college.

For Christmas I'm buying my daughter and future son-in-law gift certificates redeemable at the local dog training school. When I have grandchildren, we're going to open their presents together, and I'm going to sit on the floor and read the manuals with them like a story, and it's going to be fun.