the ballad of mr. jones

fixer, philosopher and ghost on an atv

I’ll always be tired but never retired, you can count on me sir

Mr Jones always called my dad sir.

I’ll forget your name so I’d rather just call you sir

My dad always called him Henry while at the same time insisting we call him Mr. Jones.

Mr. Jones was my dad’s guy.

Not a slave, nor a servant, Mr. Jones was the handyman who took care of everything my dad didn’t want to take care of around the house.

Ten years younger than my dad, he was ten years older than me.

They met just after my dad went out on his own with his law practice. Mr. Jones was repairing the step in front of the old converted Victorian house where you found my dad tucked away in his little corner office.

I’m just starting out myself sir. But I’d love to come and take a look at that loose fence post for ya.

Sir

That’s such a funny word to hear coming from someone who was part of our lives. He did everything. He fixed leaky toilets, unclogged the sinks. He swapped out light fixtures and hung up towel bars. He patched the drywal…