"No pliers are available." Well, ain't that the truth. Are they ever available, the pliers, the tools we need go get things done? Not really. Are they there, in our possession? Yes. But they aren't available. Are they accessible, obtainable? Probably, they just aren't available.
I read this as oddly optimistic. The pliers aren't lost or broken. They are not too difficult to use or understand. They are neither mystical nor imagined. They are simply unavailable, at this time. A slight misunderstanding perhaps, a glitch, a temporary lapse, a misplacement.
I don't know what what made N, then maybe four, write this assessment. I don't know if he needed pliers for some "hairbrainage" or to pretend fix something or what his motivation was. I just saw it on the floor in the basement and read it and thought: 'Well that's good to know, thanks, buddy.' I'll look for something else to do, use a different tool, go in a different direction.
I'll look in a different toolbox.
I call this "Blue Jet" and it makes me happy. Again, just a random find on top of the random detritus that typically layers our floors. Upon seeing it I smiled. I wanted to be that blue dude, in his blue jet, with his retro helmet and his jaunty scarf. Flying in an empty sky, on a lovely day, flying right into life headstrong, with a smile on my face.
I am not sure what inspired Z to sketch this. I hope happiness. I hope joy. I hope courage. I hope faith. I hope the endless dreaming of a then five year old, the anticipation of what is to come...
...or, perhaps he could only find a blue crayon.
So this is what I intend to do here, I'll find more stuff, I already have piles of it. I will always look down and I will always listen. I will always be willing to learn from them. I hope I win a toaster.
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