Broken
by Michael, posted February 16, 2012I was fumbling in the cupboard, when out tumbled our solid steel 1-cup measure. It fell to the countertop, landing on a small serving dish we received as a wedding present. Crack.
Two weeks ago, my hand slipped as I was filling up the reservoir for our humidifier—not the first time I had dropped it, but this time it was mostly full; down it fell into the bottom of the bathtub. Crack.
I love making things. I love making new things out of leftovers and waste. I love fixing things that other people would throw away (sometimes after they have already done so). I love improving things that aren’t even broken, like waxing our kitchen drawers so they slide more easily, or changing the circuitry in a toy to reduce the volume of its sounds. There are dozens of things in our home which I have built, rescued, fixed, improved upon, or otherwise fiddled with.
So it makes me very sad when I break something beyond repair. Beyond repair? Me and my tube of porcelain epoxy will do our best, but I know it’s not the same. It won’t be as strong, and it won’t look as nice. Some things can be fixed back to the way they were or better, but a lot of things cannot.
I tried to fix the reservoir for the humidifier, but even with silicone sealer along the crack, it still leaks too much to be useable. I’m going to try once more with superglue, but it may well be finished. I know that it’s only $50 to replace it, but in some ways, the inexpensiveness of it actually makes it worse: Much less than being something carefully considered before purchase, and then maintained and adapted over a long useful life of service, it is a handful of cheap plastic parts which were designed and built not to last, but to perform a minimally satisfactory function, and be discarded at the first sign of trouble.
Is it wrong to feel so sentimental about stuff?
Filed under: Reflections | 3 Comments »
Aw. Sounds like you very much need SUGRU!! The most genius thing to be invented since duct tape! It is made for exactly what you describe.
I also love to repair little bits of things, and I haven’t been able to contain my enthusiasm for this stuff….and I haven’t even tried it yet!
http://sugru.com/us/about
I think you can make basically sugru with cornstarch and silicone sealant…
I get what you’re saying – I hate it when I break something cheap, particularly when I can’t repurpose it. If it was something good then I wore it out honestly, and it served its purpose. If it was something cheap, then it just never really was what it was supposed to be.
A thoughtful reflection Michael. As for the sense of loss when something breaks, even if it was a cheap thing, I certainly understand that. Even inexpensive things are often very useful, and sometimes quite beautiful, and there is a yearning for eternity in our hearts that whispers to us that things “should last”.
I was reminded of this passage from Chesterton:
“Cinderella received a coach out of Wonderland and a coachman out of nowhere, but she received a command—which might have come out of Brixton—that she should be back by twelve. Also, she had a glass slipper; and it cannot be a coincidence that glass is so common a substance in folk-lore. This princess lives in a glass castle, that princess on a glass hill; this one sees all things in a mirror; they may all live in glass houses if they will not throw stones. For this thin glitter of glass everywhere is the expression of the fact that the happiness is bright but brittle, like the substance most easily smashed by a housemaid or a cat. And this fairy-tale sentiment also sank into me and became my sentiment towards the whole world. I felt and feel that life itself is as bright as the diamond, but as brittle as the window-pane; and when the heavens were compared to the terrible crystal I can remember a shudder. I was afraid that God would drop the cosmos with a crash.
Remember, however, that to be breakable is not the same as to be perishable. Strike a glass, and it will not endure an instant; simply do not strike it, and it will endure a thousand years. Such, it seemed, was the joy of man, either in elfland or on earth; the happiness depended on NOT DOING SOMETHING which you could at any moment do and which, very often, it was not obvious why you should not do. “