Are you the sort of person someone at the turn of the 20th century might have called a "tinkerer"?
I'm referring to the type who likes to build things or learn something new every day, no matter how old he or she gets.
When I was a teenager, I lived next door to a guy who kept bees and sold the honey to neighbors and friends, after reassuring all of us that we had little chance of being stung if we just left the insects alone.
To save money, my father took a night course at the high school to learn car repair - long before a tune-up required a laptop and automaker-designated software.
When I was a kid, I built a crystal radio set from a kit. I learned Morse code at classes at the Civil Defense, built a telegraph in junior high school wood shop, and practiced my dot-dot-dot-dash-dash-dash-dot-dot-dots so well that, if they still used Morse code, I could be rescued at sea.
When I started my first newspaper job after high school, I was handed a no-frills camera and several rolls of film and told that reporters had to be photographers, too. So I shoehorned in a night course at the high school to learn something about photography, and ended up running a sideline business developing pictures for small publications in a darkroom I set up in a closet.
I enjoy learning new things, even more so as I get older, because it tends to reduce the loss of brain cells. That's why many people attempt the New York Times crossword puzzle every day - Will Shortz is probably responsible for keeping hundreds of thousands of Americans from misplacing their house keys.
Sometimes, it's fun: taking online courses through Camden County College on Web design, Photoshop, and Flash; building a custom desk for my basement office from plans I drew; seeing how early I can plant spring crops in raised beds if I cover them on colder nights.
But sometimes, you suspend your dignity: for a half-hour every Monday, being taught to swim at age 61 by 17-year-olds; constantly falling off the English racing bike you just had tuned after it had sat in the basement for 25 years; trying to get the tennis ball over the net more regularly than you did when you gave up the game 40 years earlier.
You know, tinkering.
I often get the impression that too many people believe that those of us who give things a try, whether we succeed or not, are special. They assume that if they tried to do the same thing, they wouldn't be able to do it.
