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   In order to write this story it must start with a confession. I have stolen property from the United States Navy, OK, petty theft 35 years ago, but a crime never the less. I am not afraid to tell you this for several reasons: first, the Statute of Limitations is way over. Second, as of this writing I have not been informed of my rights, making this not admissible in a court of law. (I watch T.V. too) Thirdly, I have paid hundreds of thousands of dollars restitution to the U.S. Government, in the form of taxes, over the last 35 years. And will continue to do so as long as I live! But most important is the fact that I have reformed myself from committing any crimes since, except for the occasional 5 miles over, and rolling through that bothersome stop sign when nobody is looking.
   Back to the point, it is 1973, I only have a couple of weeks before my hitch in the Navy is up. This is called “being short.” I am the shortest guy around and I am the envy of every sailor on board. My ship is a “repair ship” and tools are everywhere. Hand tools up to huge power tools and pipe benders. Nobody will miss a couple of hammers, a hack saw, or a pair of vice grips. Into my “sea bag” they go, and it is signora U.S. Navy!
 Believe it or not these tools have served me well over the years and show a lot of use. It is impossible to wear out a pair of vice grips or a hammer.
   We must fast forward the tape 24 years, to 1997. By the way, my quest for knowledge concerning electronics has long since been replaced by “I just consider it magic”.
     I used a small “ammo can” as an emergency tool kit in a jeep I was driving at the time. I did not have a hammer that would fit into the small metal box. One of the small hammers I had stolen years ago had a wooden handle making it easy to cut an inch or so off, making it fit. One day walking out to my Jeep to go to work all that was left in the driveway was a small pile of window glass, no Jeep!  Later my vehicle was recovered and everything inside was missing, stereo, speakers, tapes, glasses, and my tool box.                                                               
    Fast forward again 5 years, this time to 2002. Over the years I have had a beautiful daughter, gone through a couple of wives, lost a couple of houses, worn out half of a dozen trucks, and motorcycles. Wow, I wish I had some of that to do over, or at least have some of that money back. 
    I am single, living on the “east side” and paying the usual alimony. In my adventures I meet a pretty girl, and we go out. At nearly the speed of light I find myself being drawn into the “family unit.” Maybe here is where I should mention I have a demonstrative fear of commitment. (Understatement) I find myself beamed into her apartment, 1 month behind on the rent, and meeting her children. (Ex late on child support)  She is telling me about her car that needs resurrecting as if I could do anything about it. And many repairs that the unscrupulous landlord is refusing to do. I am a nice guy so I offer to take a look at a couple of things before I bolt for the door. (Is it locked from the inside?)
   There are wheels that have come loose from the dishwasher basket. I say; “If I had a Hammer.” Now here is where I must confess, that saying is not an original one and I am not a plagiarist.
  All of you “over 50” crowd recognize it as a song recorded in 1962 by Peter, Paul, and Mary. But did you know it was written buy Pete Seeger and recorded by a group called “The Weavers” in 1949! Trini Lopez also recorded it in 1963. But the shocker is that it was also recorded in 1968 by Leonard Nimoy!  To him it was a song about the tools he needed to round his ears back out. If you don’t believe me, look it up! It is a good thing Robert Vaughn never recorded that “Napoleon” solo he was so famous for. Ouch, that was so bad I am going to cry U.N.C.L.E. and get back to my story.
  Backing up a bit, “If I had a hammer, I might be able to fix this” she reaches for the junk drawer in the kitchen and pulls out…..You guessed it…..My hammer! Handle cut off and all! I jump up, scared her and the kids. (Boy, mom sure brings home some weirdo’s) “Hey, that’s my hammer; I have owned it since I was in the Navy.” “See where I cut off the handle?” Hey, did you steal my Jeep?
  “No!” “But I did pay a dollar for it at a yard sale”, she says meekly. You can have it back if you want, it’s only a hammer. Now I feel bad, so I tell her to let the kids know it’s OK to come back out and to hang up on the 911 operator.
   I finish the repairs she had asked me to fix, and I gave her a dollar for the hammer. The door was not locked.
    Very little came of that encounter, except for the reuniting of that little cut off hammer with its rightful owner. No, not the U.S. Navy, me!  As we speak it is resting comfortably in my tool box just waiting to be used. It’s a small world, after all. (I don’t know anything about that song)