Salty Dad

Last night in Dallas, after demolishing another world class steak at @PappasBros, I called for a Lyft, which pulled up to the curb a few seconds after I left the restaurant. The driver’s window rolled down and a big man with a white beard looked at me and said, “Mike Rowe?” I nodded, and the man said, “I’m your guy.” As I slid into the back seat, I thought about that expression—I’m your guy. Growing up, I used to hear people say, “I gotta guy for that!” A plumbing emergency, a stump that had to be removed, a leaky roof, clogged gutters…whatever the job, people always “had a guy for that.” Usually, a guy who showed up in a work truck, armed with a toolbox. Well, in this case, my guy showed up in an SUV, armed with a light saber. The light saber was wedged between the console and the passenger’s seat and poked up like a white flagpole. “I can’t help but notice your light saber,” I said to my guy. “Never leave home without it,” he said. “Big Star Wars fan?” I asked. “Nah, but the light saber comes in handy when I'm driving, especially after concerts and sporting events.” “Do tell,” I said. “Well, there’s thousands of black Suburbans out there like this one, and people can’t always read the license plate. So, when I come to pick somebody up after an event after dark, I just tell ‘em to look for the big old, bearded guy in overalls waving around a purple light saber.” With that, my guy pressed a button on the hilt of his toy sword, turning the white tube into a bright purple pipe. “Very clever,” I said. My guy shrugged and said, “Most problems have a simple solution, if you think about ‘em the right way.” My Guy told me his name was Gordon Holmes and pulled a business card from the front pocket of his overalls. He presented it to me with a flourish, and I did a double take when I read it. “Wow,” I said, “you weren’t kidding. You really are My Guy.” “Don’t get too excited,” he said. “I’m everybody’s guy.” “So, what does everybody’s guy do, exactly?” “Whatever needs getting done,” he said. "You name it, I can fix it." “So, you’re like a handy man on call?” “Yeah, but not just handyman stuff,” he said. “Here’s somebody who needed a Santa Claus a few months ago.” My Guy handed me his phone, where I saw a picture of him in a Santa Claus suit with a smiling kid on his lap. “Don’t tell me,” I said, “let me guess. The kid wanted a light saber?” My Guy laughed as we pulled up to the hotel. “That would have been something,” he said. “A kid asks Santa Claus for a light saber, and Santa Claus whips one out on the spot." "Probably would have scared him for life," I said. "Kid would be seventeen and still sending letters to the North Pole." We laughed some more, and when I got out, I said, “Hey, you mind if I see that thing in action? I’d like to share this moment with a few million friends on the Internet.” “No problem,” he said. “In fact, show ‘em my card, too. Always looking for new chores to do.” “You sure about that?” I said. “You’re liable to get more calls than you can handle.” “No calls,” he said. “Just texts and emails.” With that, Gordon hopped out of his Suburban and began to brandish his toy sword. My Guy was right. It’s hard to miss a big man in overalls and a white beard, swinging a purple light saber when the sun goes down...