Better Call Tom

Dads don’t always give long lectures. Sometimes, they just hand you a wrench, throw in a death warning, and say, “You’ll be fine.”

With Father’s Day around the corner, here’s a story about the man who taught me that messing up is just part of the process—as long as you learn how to fix it.

When you become a homeowner, you also accidentally become a part-time plumber, part-time electrician, part-time drywaller, and full-time Googler of things like “what’s that smell?” or “how to start a lawnmower that won’t start.”

I learned this pretty early on in our homeownership journey. My wife and I were remodeling part of our first house — specifically, an old addition that needed more than just love. The biggest red flag? The room had kept the original window. Yes, we had a window in our bedroom…looking into our living room. The previous owners had installed makeshift shades that folded out. If I had a nickel for every time a visitor asked, “Is that a…window?” Something had to be done.

We turned the space into something livable, sealed off the awkward architectural choices, and even moved the hot water heater to that side of the house. It sounded like a small thing…until the day my wife called me, voice full panic, saying there was water everywhere.

When something breaks in my house, I have a system.

Step 1: Panic.
Step 2: Call Tom.

Tom is my stepdad — steady, unshakable, and the kind of man who can fix anything with a wrench and a stare. I told him what happened, how the hot water heater had apparently given up on life and was bleeding out. His response?

He calmly asked a few questions, I gave him about 60% of the information he actually needed, and he gave me what felt like a one-step solution to a thousand-step problem.

"Just replace it,” he said.

Just like that. Like I was ordering takeout or changing a lightbulb.

Now, to be fair, I don't think he meant “just replace it” as in me replace it. But he didn’t offer to come do it either, so maybe he did. Either way, my options were limited. The floor was wet, my wife was stressed, and I was trying not to panic in front of either one of them.

I reminded him I had never replaced anything this major in my life — except maybe batteries and a roll of toilet paper on a good day. But he just said, “You can do it. You’re smart. Hook it up exactly like it’s hooked up now.”

So I bought a new water heater.

Then I called Tom again. “Alright, it’s here. Now what?”

"You can do it,” he said, like I was about to take a 3rd grade spelling test and not hook up a 240-volt appliance in a confined space. I gave him a hesitant sigh.

“Just hook everything up like it is right now on the old one. Make sure you cut the power off at the breaker, because if you touch that wire live, you'll be dead before you hit the ground.”

Comforting. Nothing like a little motivational speaking wrapped in a death warning.

“You can do this, but you might die in the process.”

Of course, this wasn’t the first time Tom had placed blind trust in me. There was the time he asked my brother and I to remove a window unit air conditioner from a second-story bedroom. We braced ourselves, took hold of the unit, and began the job. Only...the front-facing panel popped off in our hands. The actual air conditioner? It plummeted out the window like a cartoon anvil, landed squarely on the central air unit below, and left a gash the size of our regret.

We stood there in stunned silence, just holding the plastic face of the unit and staring out the window at the damage we had done. Tom didn’t think it was as funny as we did.

Anyway, this time, I followed his instructions exactly. I took pictures. I turned off power to the entire zip code just to be safe. I double-checked everything twice. And when it was done, it worked. No leaks. No sparks. No funerals. And a little later, hot water, which felt like a miracle.

These days, I’ve got a few more tools in the garage and a little more confidence under my belt. Over the years, I’ve hung drywall, installed sinks, replaced light fixtures, laid flooring, put up privacy fencing, and rerouted plumbing. None of that came naturally. It came from trial, error, and a man on the other end of the phone saying, “You can do it.”

He never made a big show of teaching us, he just handed us the job, offered a one-liner that could double as a legal disclaimer, and let the chips (or air conditioners) fall where they may.

And somehow, we usually figured it out.

That’s how I’ve learned most things in homeownership: one minor disaster, one panicked phone call, and one slightly sarcastic stepdad at a time.

Thanks to Tom, I’ve learned a lot about home repairs and a little about life.

What if I cut the wrong pipe when I’m installing plumbing? What if I make a hole in the wrong wall? What if I mess it up?

Tom never entertained those questions. He’d just say, “Well, then you fix it.”

Some people Google. Some people YouTube. I call Tom.

And somehow, between the tools, the sarcasm, and the trust-he-shouldn’t-have-had-in-me, I’ve learned more than just home repair—I’ve learned how to show up, try anyway, and fix it if I mess it up. It happens.

With Father’s Day around the corner, maybe you’ve got a “Tom” too. A dad, stepdad, mentor, or stand-in who handed you a wrench and said, “You’ve got this.”