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Do-over Machine

January 12, 2011

Do-over MachinePosted by Jimmy

Rique has been spending a lot of time with her sewing machine in the past few months. Am I jealous? No, I'm too busy pulling needles out of my feet, the dog's fur, the rugs, the bed, you name it. Being Mr. Do-over isn't easy. But I will tell you who I'm a bit jealous of. The guy who keeps the Do-over machine running: Milt, the sewing machine repair guy.

Milt is smart and charming, and like me, thinks Rique is adorable. On a good day, I can keep up with smart and charming but Milt has something my wife needs that I can't match: the keys to the sewing machine.

It's a Morse, model 672, circa 1962. All metal. 42 pounds of Industrial Age power. Here's how she came to own this beauty: years ago, she bought a new machine that broke the day the warranty ended. She called a sewing machine repair guy who came over immediately, pronounced the new machine a piece of plastic crap and sold her the Morse. His name was Milt. He was already in his '80s, and this was several years ago. He guaranteed the machine would work perfectly for as long as he lived. (He doesn't look a day over 68 and he said it with a sparkle in his eye and Rique was sold). If the machine breaks, Rique calls Milt, and he's there within hours. Rique really appreciates reliability in a man. And a machine.

But the point is, Rique's machine, which helps her save cashmere sweaters from the landfill is a landfill survivor, too. Milt saved it along with countless others and then found them good homes.

Rique's machine is a do-over. And a great reminder that the things we throw away are often better than the things we replace them with.