Noel
I was helping Noel work on his car.
Noel was a neighbor of mine, my friend’s stepfather, and somewhat of an uncle-like figure to me during my adolescence. Noel wasn’t quite old enough to be my father, still at the age where he could remember what being in my shoes was like.
It was always fun to hangout with Noel. He was a professional diver, an occupation that is high on the cool list in the eyes of a young boy. A few times he took me out into Kaneohe Bay, where we dived for coral and split fifty-fifty on the profits. He was also a Sensei at the YBA Judo Club, and I would often spend my Saturdays with him there.
Oftentimes I would lend a hand while Noel worked on various projects at his home. In doing so, he introduced me to the skills of carpentry, plumbing, and landscaping. He had a great deal of patience, never once raising his voice at me in anger. He had a way of encouraging me to try, never making a big deal out of little mistakes, and always finding a little humor in the moment.
So I was helping Noel work on his car. He was underneath the car while I stood closely by handing him various tools.
“Hand me the ratchet,” he said.
“A ratchet? What’s a ratchet?”
He rolled halfway out from under the car and looked up at me and smiled. “It’s a little bit bigger than a mouse shit.”