Tools of Curiosity

This is a simple story of a boy who found something, and his curiosity surrounding that thing. The only twist is that the “boy” is 60 … and-a-half. And as with so many things I write, I didn’t know where it was going when I started, and frankly, I’m not sure it went anywhere. But maybe you’ll see something meaningful in it. If not, that’s OK, because when I write these stories of everyday life, I just keep swinging, hoping someday I’ll hit the ball. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll make you smile, chuckle, think, or simply to escape from the complicated and difficult parts of life; to see the fun and charm in the simple things.

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I have a pliers sitting on my desk in my office space in the basement of my home. It’s nothing special, and really, if you visited, you probably wouldn’t even notice it. But if you did, it might seem out of place, since pliers aren’t something I use in my work as a writer and “thinker.”

“Maybe they’d be better in a toolbox, or hanging on a hook at a workbench so you could find them when you needed them,” you might be thinking. And you may be right … if my intention was to use these pliers for the reason they were designed (for plying?).

But I’m not. I already have several pairs of perfectly functional pliers residing where you’d expect to find them: one in a toolbox, another in a junk drawer in our kitchen. (I don’t have a workbench, so the junk drawer is the next most logical place for such devices.)

I know exactly how these pliers landed on my desk, and I also know why. And to be honest, since I acquired them, I haven’t used them … as pliers that is. Most of the day, they sit on my desk, and every once in a while, I pick them up and let them rest in my hands; almost like “stress ball” or other relaxation tool.

I didn’t buy these pliers, and they weren’t a gift. I found them one day not long ago during my daily walk. I was crossing what is, during the shank of the day, a busy multi-lane street with a median. But early in the morning (just after dawn), it’s quiet. And as I approached the crosswalk, I noticed something in the middle of the road. Looking first to make sure there was no oncoming traffic save for a couple of squirrels manically trying to figure out what side of the street they wanted to occupy, I deviated from my route to see what it was. By now, you know … it was those pliers.

I looked around to see if there were any work trucks in the vicinity. Seeing none, I picked up the pliers and continued my walk.

Soon after my quasi-legal acquisition of the pliers (“Finders keepers” and all that), my mind started to wander … and wonder, as it likes to do when I spontaneously see, experience or, in this case, acquire something ordinary … or out-of-the-ordinary.

First, I wondered the origins of pliers in general, their uses throughout history and how they’ve changed and evolved from the primitive to the modern.

Next, my mind switched gears, to this specific set of pliers.

Aside: Through a quick check on the Internet, I learned pliers date back more than 4,000 years. I won’t bore you with a history lesson as to who first used them, for what purpose, or how they evolved. You can probably fill in those gaps from your own experience and deductive powers.

This pair was small, but of good quality. They had black, rubber-coated handles, and the “business end” (the pinching part) had nicks and smudges noting that some good work had been accomplished during their lifetime, yet they seemed to be in the prime “earning years” of their work life. In other words, they still had a lot of “plying” left to do.

I’m small for an adult (ranging from 5’6” to 5’7 1/2” depending on which doctor’s office is doing the measuring; a story for another day), and these pliers felt like they were custom made for me. They weren’t heavy-duty, but I envisioned them (and their previous owner) getting into all kinds of hard-to-reach places, maybe to pull electrical wire or to provide a solid grip on a leaky pipe.

That made me continue to wonder where they’d been, and what jobs they had done. And then it made me wonder what their owner would think when he/she/they got to the next jobsite, reached for them in their “usual” spot and found them missing.

Then, I wondered how they ended up in the middle of the road in the first place. Had they been haphazardly left on a truck’s tailgate and slid off during a routine left (or right) turn?  Had the owner thrown them at a passing vehicle in a fit of road rage?

And then I checked myself, thinking, “Why do I always let my mind go to all these places, and why is it always these little things that make it wander … and wonder?”

And then, I checked myself again, thinking how grateful I was that these little things (pliers, coins, odd-shaped slices of bread, songs, etc.) make my mind wander … and wonder.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, “I think at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity.” I concur, because I believe that of all the gifts, skills, talents and traits we possess, curiosity is critical to our being, our success and our very survival.

Without it, we (or at least I; I can’t speak for you) would simply be “going through the motions” of life, never asking questions, never wanting to learn things or expand the world that sits between our ears.

Will my curiosity about the history of those pliers change the world, or even someone’s day? No. But the very act of being curious about something so ordinary, so utilitarian and so … obvious shows how the most simple things and experiences we encounter can help us think beyond our every day, humble us, excite us, and maybe make us explore what’s next.

I may never use these pliers for the reason they were designed. But they have become a valuable tool for me. Because almost every day, I pick them up, noting how they fit perfectly into my hand, and I wonder …

© 2025 David R. Haznaw