By Clyde

I know that all beneath the moon decays,

And what by mortals in this world is brought,

In Time’s great periods shall return to nought;

— William Durmand of Hawthornden

Sadly, the most priceless things broken, becomes useless and it’s just not cost effective or worthwhile, if you can find someone to repair it. The 1949 Salisbury City Directory offers these options: C&B Bicycle Repair at 125 E. Council and across the street Monro Stove Repair at 120 E. Council, the Radio Hospital at 119 E. Fisher or for serious bump-ups see Robie Nash, who married Ethel Arey, at 1819 S. Main. K.W. Arthur can still today fix your roof at South Main Street Ext.

Leave your wrist watch, remember those, at Norman’s 203 S. Main or you could fix it yourself at C.E. Kneeburg School of Watchmaking in Spencer. He could fix the springs on those 992B gold watches for the trainmen. Every neighborhood had a Mr. Fix-it, often named Fred, who would tinker with most anything until it got its mind right and commenced to start right up.

Lloyd “Dort” Morris may well have been the last of the fixers who gave a tinker’s damn. We grew up hearing about loom fixers in Mr. Cannon’s mill — they still count the threads per inch in fine bed sheets. Who knows how to fix anything anymore? A.I.? You can charge anything you want to your account and pay later. Service-related jobs may be in your future.

A needle and thread, if you can find one, could mend most any tear. Sock darners are a thing of the past. “… and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons” (Genesis 3:7).

There is an art to fixing a lawnmower! God Bless Danny Hill for keeping lawnmowers out of the scrap heap. Lazy, lethargic lads leisurely lopping long-leafed legumes languishing lustfully in la-la land lest leishmanial landlords elevate lofty lugubrious lyrical Lepidoptera. Our OCD friends never quite get it fixed right but they keep trying. Fixing a flat tire is something we used to know a little about — just try to find the jack in one of those new-fangled cars. Just call for help.

Polyvinyl acetate used by the Borden Co. in 1947 is why they put Elmer the bull, Elsie’s mate, on the glue label. Mucilage in the curved glass bottle with the rubber nozzle was always dried up in elementary school and it smelled funny and tasted bad too. You had to wait your turn for glue. Chevy fans’ nemeses were the Fix Or Repair Daily boys next door.

You can get your hair fixed, your face fixed or get all fixed up to go out. Mr. Bare can’t wait to find a fixer-upper to flip. Some of us are just happy to find something we want to fix for lunch while others are looking for a fix. A fixative was brushed over an oil painting but now it’s all acrylic. In Latin, “fixus” meant to fasten. How many times a day do we threaten to “fix it once and for all?” Ask the Bo boys what’s the fixins that youenzes is mixin’? Ask your neighborhood cats what it means to get fixed.

If it’s simply not worth fixing, what can you do about it? Recycle and pay a fee? Make it into art or a mosaic with other broken tiles? Look up at the Sistine Chapel. You might just like to save the pieces for a remembrance. They were so valuable, fine English Worster platters that got broken were actually reattached with metal staples for more use. Museums may have fragments on display. Relic hunters prized possessions are lost cast offs. How many times can you throw something away?

You may want to give up trying to fix things that went wrong and just relax to the “pleasurable sadness” of a violin playing the music of the spheres. Enchanting sounds can help you over things you just can’t fix.

“In the still of the night

I held you, held you tight

Promise I’ll never let you go

Shoo-doop, shoo-be whoa”

— “In the Still of the Night”, The Five Satins, 1956

Clyde is a Salisbury artist.