World’s largest screw collection

They say reality is stranger than fiction. How did the Egyptians build such perfect structures as the pyramids without the use of modern tools? How did a ship end up on top of one of the highest mountains in Europe? Who drew those giant drawings in South America carved in rock that go on for miles in every direction - the ones that while undecipherable from ground are clearly seen from a plane? Strange, indeed. But there is something stranger out there.

All of these wonders – as great as they are — pale in comparison to what I saw again last week. It had been so long since I gazed in wonder at what lay before my eyes – after some 30 years, I almost forgot all about its oddity. But there it was. Just as I remembered as a child — still as inexplicable now as it was then. Truly the eighth wonder of the world sits out on a shelf in the workroom of a nice white brick house in Panama City Beach, Florida. My dad’s screw collection.

Dear old Dad had asked for some help getting moved into his new house. Seems he and his wife have had their fill of the condo life. At an age where most people sell their home, buy a condo, and move to the beach, my dad’s done the exact opposite. But then again, he’s never been known to do the norm. Hence, his screw collection.

Back-in-the-day most everything we bought came in a bazillion pieces with a bazillion screws and needed to be assembled. Whenever we finished putting something together – whether it was a toy, a bike, or something for Mom, we always had screws left over. This was especially true if Twin Brother Mark and I had a hand in the assembling.

All of the extra screws somehow always found their way to one of 20 Mason jars: glass Mason jars suspended by their metal lids which my dad had screwed into a board two feet above his workbench, making the treasured contents, assorted by size and length, easy to see and easy to reach.

Through the years he has used his screws to repair almost everything that magically got broken around our house. After Bubba Hanks’ maiden voyage of the Flamingo Street Flyer go-cart, Dad used 15 screws to put the wheels back on. When the frame of Mark’s twin bed broke mysteriously in the middle of the night, Dad used three-inch screws to hold it together. Guess wrapping Mark up in a blanket, jumping up and down on him and beating him with a pillow was too much for the frame. Who would’ve guessed? That was my best sneak attack ever.

One summer all of us boys built a tree fort up in the split of the giant oak tree in our backyard overlooking the swamp. The construction lasted all summer and depleted Dad’s collection to a dangerously low level. But somehow for Christmas that year, we all got toys that had to be assembled, and Dad had only me and Mark do the assembling. I remember not soon afterwards venturing into his workroom and seeing 25 Mason jars screwed to the long board above his workbench.

When Older Brother Richard was bowled over by the giant tire Twin Brother Mark was riding down the hill, his arm was broken and twisted in three different ways. Dad was working in the garden next to the swamp, heard his screaming, scooped him up and headed straight to the workroom and his screw collection. Mom yelled at him so instead he piled Richard into the back of the dark green station wagon with the brown faux wood panels and off they raced to Doc Jim’s office.

One nurse X-rayed his broken arm while another nurse gave him candy and a shot in the backside. She said it would help with the pain. (The shot, not the candy; the candy just tasted good.) After studying the X-rays, Doc Jim told Mom and Dad that he would have to operate the next day in order to set Richard’s arm properly.

The operation worked and within two months, Richard was throwing dirt clods again. To this day I still believe the two screws Doc Jim used to set Richard’s arm came from Dad’s screw collection.

To be honest, over the years I haven’t given much thought to Dad’s strange infatuation with screws. Like so many other things from childhood, it has been just another fading memory of odd things that happened at 110 Flamingo Street. And trust me, around our house, there were plenty of odd things happening.
I thought when we left Flamingo Street, Dad also left his infamous screw collection behind. I was wrong. During my stay last week, he informed me that he has carried his screw collection with him throughout the years. From Flamingo Street, to the house in East Point, to an apartment in College Park, to a house in our county, on down to a condo on the snow-white beaches of Panama City, and now to his new house. The screw collection has survived.

Upon my arrival in Florida, Dad announced he had lots of stuff he needed me to do. In two days I put together a wood file cabinet, built a cabinet for the bathroom, installed grab bars in both showers, put towel racks and soap dishes in three bathrooms, and cooked dinner. Dad was happy, even though Mark was not around to help, and somehow we had plenty of screws left over. From all the assembling, not from dinner.

While I was busy putting together stuff during my stay, Dad was busy out in the garage putting up shelving. On the back wall, the shelving spanned the length of the garage and went from floor to ceiling. He didn’t use one nail, nor one staple. Heck, he didn’t even use any duct tape! Just lots and lots of screws.

The last job I helped him with was cutting down three small trees in the backyard. Seems after 20 years, Dad’s going to have another garden. He wanted to use a skill saw and his new hatchet to clear the trees out. I said no and rented a chain saw.

Three days later I left full of the best seafood money could buy. I left with a hug and peck on the cheek from his wife and big thanks for all of the help given. And I left with something else. I left with the satisfaction that once again I had contributed to Dad’s infamous screw collection.