Keeping busy

So many uses for duct tape, staple guns, clothespins, and trash bags

by Sally Cragin

In New England, nearly four centuries after the first boatload of sick pilgrims staggered ashore and began felling trees, work has been the great therapy of the citizens. In the pre-industrial age, this made sense: the sooner you could fell the trees, build the shelter and stockade fence, the more likely you were to survive. The devil made work for idle hands, and before long the young women of the wild country were squinting by the fire, embroidering epigrams like "haste makes waste," in samplers with leftover thread.

These days, introspection is, if not actively discouraged in Tritown, at least not in favor. You'll see the occasional shingle hung out for "family counseling -- discretion assured," but for the most part, therapy happens elsewhere. Tritownies find secular absolution in the grocery store on triple-coupon day or out back of the house, ripping the branches off the tree that came down in the storm.

In Tritown, there is no higher compliment than this: "Sounds like you've been busy." For someone like Hollis the Mountain Man, who makes ends meet with a combination of factors (odd jobs, scavenging, and income from a settlement from a freak accident long ago), "keeping busy" is an essential pose for onlookers. In private, Hollis finds that a sunny afternoon slips away easily enough when he's in his rubber dinghy, trolling a dry fly on the surface of Picture Pond, or tooling the back roads in his dilapidated truck looking for "neat stuff" for Delia Ellis Bell the Partial Yankee (there was a questionable great-great- grandmother) and his aunt Winnie to sell.

"If you keep a tool belt nearby, and never put away the circular saw, people just figure you're busy and will leave you alone," he says. Occasionally, he goes so far as to wear a roll of duct tape on his wrist like an oversized bangle bracelet, but this never fools Delia.

Hollis the Mountain Man's Many Uses for Duct Tape

* Wrap around leaky shoes for instant waterproofing.

* As hinges for a very lightweight screen door.

* Instant upholstery, especially if you use "weave" pattern. Lay down one strip, and then cross over with the second strip, so second strip is perpendicular to the first. Lay third strip in original direction thus creating a "thatching" effect.

* Handle for a valise, especially if you use two short dowels and cover them with duct tape.

* Automotive purposes. Duct tape will keep a headlamp, rear-view mirror, and exhaust system together for a short while (supplement with coathanger wire for areas that become hot).

* A strip hanging from a ceiling panel will serve as flypaper.

"Of course, a job worth doing . . . " remarks Hollis to Delia.

"Is worth doing as quickly as possible," she finishes. "What duct tape does for you, a staple gun does for me."

Delia Ellis Bell's Staple Gun Suggestions Respect a staple gun as you would any other firearm.

* If you don't want to change curtains or draw them back, just staple gun fabric to the window frame.

* Cat or dog lunge through the screen door? Repair and replace screen by staple gunning new netting.

* Quickie upholstery jobs -- cover evidence with fabric ribbon.

* Electrical wires snaking everywhere? Unplug from socket, and roll up extra wire, position minimum amount needed around edge of room, gently staple gun in place. Keep wire between staple -- if you accidentally staple through the rubber, remove staple, and repair with electrical tape. This is why you unplugged the wire first.

"Frankly," says Hollis, "I prefer tenpenny nails as I've always found staple guns to be somewhat sinister. Besides, it's all I can do to hang on to my staple gun every fall, when Lorencz the Hermit decides to waterproof his summer wigwam with another layer of trash bags. He never remembers to bring the staple gun back."

"Introduce him to clothespins," says Delia. "He can clip his tarp together. Besides, I thought your Aunt Winnie swore by clothespins."

"She does," says Hollis. "There's always a fleet holding teabags onto the clothesline, waiting for reuse. And she's such a frugal swamp Yankee that even though they're less than a penny apiece, she won't leave them on the line overnight in case it rains because they'll rust."

Aunt Winnie's Easy Clothespin Fixes Use spring-style clothespins

* Fasten potato-chip bags, cookie sacks, and any dry good that comes in a plastic bag.

* Keep papers together just as well as a $1.29 bulldog clip.

* When "taking in" shirts, skirts, or trousers clothespins are easier to handle than common pins for marking adjustments.

* Paint green and glue feathers on narrow end. Glue jiggly-eyes on top for "clipper critter."

"Hey," says Delia. "If we're all `keeping busy,' around here, how come so little actually gets done?"

"That's one of the mysteries," shrugs Hollis. "Lorencz the Hermit might have an idea. His idea of being busy is to fuel himself with magic mushrooms and go off on a vision quest. Care to visit? I lent him my staple gun, and he's had it a week. I better rescue it before he buries it."

Lorencz the Hermit lives deep in the woods beyond the Mountain Lair. He lives in a variety of encampments, ranging from a renovated outhouse (winters), a homemade wigwam (warm weather), and the cabin of a 1949 Ford truck (spring and fall). Delia and Hollis make as much noise as they can walking through the woods -- it's not a good idea to surprise Lorencz, who might be ingesting fungus. They head for the wigwam, Lorencz's summer pied à terre. When they arrive, Delia wishes she had one of Winnie's clothespins to hold her nose. Piles of debris surround a patchy, plastic-covered carbuncle. But there is no Lorencz. Hollis pulls aside the empty trash bag Lorencz uses for a door and pokes his head in the wigwam. "Have a look at this," he says to Delia.

Sunlight creeps in through the smokehole in the top of the wigwam, and she sees a surprisingly tidy interior space. There's a small mound covered with a ragged quilt Delia recognizes as having once been the bedding of Trick and Treat, Hollis's cats. Empty cans with candle stubs circle a milk crate on which an open journal lies. Dark jars are tucked into other milk crates. The candle wax is cold, and a water jar is empty.

"Where is he?" asks Delia. Hollis pulls a face and slowly shakes his head. They linger and turn a few pages in the journal, but as the notation is small, crabbed, and in a language that might be Latin or might be made-up, they depart.

As they return to the relatively civilized confines of the Mountain Lair, Hollis speculates. "Living out in the woods has really sharpened his senses," he says, sitting in his rocking chair. "If he's gone, we might be in for bad weather, or maybe he's full of magic mushrooms and mid-hejira."

"Ha," snorts Delia, sitting on the arm of Hollis's couch. "Hard to believe a man who's that handy with a Glad bag needs to feed his soul."

"Well, at least we'll know what to say when he finally does turn up," Hollis remarks, as Trick, the black cat, jumps into his lap.

"Sounds like you've been busy," says Delia in unison with her friend.

Lorencz the Hermit's Versatile Trash Bag

* Cut a hole in the bottom and sides for an instant poncho.

* Cut on two sides for a single sheet of plastic, useful for making any article of clothing.

* Fill with dead leaves and fasten. Three or four of these laid side by side will make a mattress. Two or three will make a lounge chair. Much more comfortable with a blanket on top.

* Use for any other purpose rather than trash. In the time-honored New England homesteader tradition, Lorencz prefers to landscape his living area with refuse. The last place to put trash is in a trash bag -- waste of a good bag.

Sally Cragin is pretty damn' busy but could always be busier.

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