On the Mark: This handy man is my handyman

My husband, Rod Walli, often and confidently says in Finnish: "Voin Korjata mitaan." It means "I can fix anything."

He's not bragging. Just expressing confidence.

I'm drafting at home. Morning light bounces off walls and a

cathedral ceiling he built 17 years ago, enlarging the bungalow that Barb Walli designed and where they raised their boys, Gene and Mark. One time, a nosy drive-by neighbor asked "Why are your building an addition?" "For the baby," the 64-year old Rod answered, amused at the horrified look flitting across the man's face. "The baby grand piano."

You name it, he can do it. Recently the dank old basement at my grandparents' house flooded and the furnace quit. I won't go into the wretched details, but within days, he'd gotten the sump pump working, diagnosed the furnace problem, ordered a new element, and made the house warm and dry. He also installed floor heat under the south-facing windows on the porch my grandpa built and I use as an office.

Rod always has a project.

During warm months in recent years, he upgraded his BMW motorcycle. Now he's working on an older and smaller one of my son's. With valuable help from his brother-in-law, Don Hutar, he fixed a major problem with our vintage backhoe. We bought it used to put in ground source heat when we added onto the house. It's handy for bringing in firewood and plowing our driveway after big snowstorms. Also for winter, he modified a cheap plastic store-bought sled into a wilderness tote for me, complete with harness so I have hands free to pole up ski hills.

For the past few months, he's been building new cabinetry for our kitchen. For the first time in decades, we have a dishwasher (he was the dishwasher until now). He works in his garage all year, a shop heated by an old wood stove. More than a decade ago, he spent a summer sorting every nail, screw, nut, and drill bit, creating dedicated space for each within reach.

And he can really fix anything. Lamps? He designed and built ceiling lighting for our expanded home. He re-tiled the brick floor under our woodstove, cracked from too many carelessly thrown or dropped (probably by me) logs. He's fixed our screen and storm doors too many times to count. He's patched holes in our wood and fiberglass canoes. Made special tools for wild ricing. Cars? Most, but not all problems.

Rod's handy with electronics, too. He loves to quote Red Green: "If the women don't find you handsome they should at least find you handy." He's good on computers: he taught them as a sideline at Cromwell-Wright School, complementing his math and psychology courses. He's planning to go to a radio swap in the Twin Cities area later this year. I'll be curious what he brings home.

Rod's computer skills have come in handy for consultations on "how to do" this or that – be it wood or metalworking, even plumbing. I may come home to find him listening intently to some guy's tips on how to make a door fit right or install some arcane motorcycle part.

Some things he pursues for sheer joy. He plays guitar and has built up a unique collection of guitars from our stays in Finland, Scotland, Brazil and Korea. He has a sturdy and attractive hook for his Brazilian guitar that hangs on the wall above his side of the bed. Some evenings and mornings, I am treated to a serenade. He sings in the Bethany Evangelical Lutheran Church choir, preferring bass but sometimes filling in for tenor.

Growing up on a Wright dairy farm, Rod learned to deal with machinery breakdowns, safety, water and sewage. His mother brought him broken radios she'd purchased at fairs and swaps; he learned to fix them by taking a correspondence course. While living with a single woman neighbor who'd been hurt in an auto accident, he not only milked her cows and drove (at age 11) the milk to the Wright creamery, but learned about electronics. I dream of a future when all youngsters learn, girls included, as Rod and his brothers and sisters did, from family, neighbors, and teachers.

Ann Markusen is an economist and professor emerita at University of Minnesota. A Pine Knot board member, she lives in

Red Clover Township north of Cromwell.