My Duct Tape essay just appeared in The 30th Anniversary Anthology of the Blue Ridge Writers. Here is a excerpt:

The Latin words ductus tapeicus translate to cures all evils. Those words should be displayed on our family crest.

Both sides of our family have had a long history with duct tape. When I was in college, I used duct tape to secure the bumper to my hand-me-down car, a ’65 Ford Fairlane. As you might imagine, the technique lacked efficacy. Were I to bump any object, I’m certain my bumper would have clattered to the asphalt. Later, when I was a VISTA volunteer living on a tiny stipend, the passenger side floorboard had rusted out. I repaired the holes with multiple layers of duct tape.  You might ask how I passed yearly inspections. Let’s just say I discovered a libertarian inspector in the wilds of eastern Connecticut who held expansive views of what constituted a safe vehicle.

I am married to a man who possesses a high regard for duct tape. During our early years together, he owned a navy-blue Mazda whose exterior slowly disintegrated over time. For years, as rusty patches popped up and grew, he covered each area with duct tape. At one point, we debated whether to list the color of that car as “silver” rather than “blue” on our motor vehicle documents. Bruce worked at two offices at the time and often gave rides to his assistant. After a while, she refused to get into the Mazda, citing health and safety reasons, but the truth is I don’t think she could bear being seen in it. Her contempt finally inspired him to buy a new used car.

One son used duct tape to address a longtime medical issue. He had developed plantar warts while wrestling in high school. They got lots worse in college. Rather than go to a dermatologist, he used duct tape to treat them. He said to me, “You just duct tape those bad boys and after a month or so, they shrivel up and die.” I tried to persuade him to go to a doctor, but no dice. However, weeks later when he came home for spring break, those bad boys had shriveled up and died.

Years later, another son was plagued by plantar warts. He went to a dermatologist who aggressively treated him. I won’t describe what happened because it’s disgusting, but the upshot is that boy could not walk properly for a week. Lesson learned: whenever possible, use duct tape as the first line of defense.

My father was a duct tape enthusiast. Once he taped axe head to an axe handle. To anyone who borrowed the tool, he’d say, “I wouldn’t swing this axe too hard if I was you.”

My dad also used duct tape as a cure all to repair electrical appliances.  He hated to give up on any hand mixer, toaster or coffee maker, no matter how badly it malfunctioned.  One time, I plugged in our ancient canister vacuum cleaner right after Dad had wrapped the fraying cord in duct tape.  Instantly, flames leapt from the electrical outlet and traveled the length of the cord, scorching a thin black line into our lovely oak floor.

Our government respects the value of duct tape. Right after the Department of Homeland Security was established, one of their first directives told people to stock these emergency items:  food, water, batteries, sheets of plastic and DUCT TAPE. I went out and bought the largest roll I could find. Afterwards, I felt a wee bit safer.

Where would we be without duct tape? I shudder to think. To sum up, here is some wisdom I found on the internet:  Duct tape has a light side, a dark side and it holds the universe together. Amen.