"Duct tape and bailing twine," Karen said, "that's all you need to fix anything. You can hold everything together with duct tape and bailing twine." Karen was 17 and that was the prevailing philosophy of her life. She was sorry when they started bailing alfalfa with wire instead of twine, "Not nearly so useful," she said, "it takes tools."

          At 20 she has added calk and a capaccino machine to her bag of tricks, but there are still only two essentials. "The problem in Bosnia," she says, "is that they've run out of duct tape. I bet if we air dropped enough they could even patch things up over there." I suspect she may be on to something.

          Certainly our lives are evidence of her simple truth. Ken's forty-five year old baseball bat is wound completely with duct tape. The bumper of my car is held in place and trailing strings of bailing twine. The blow-up swimming pool has squares of silver tape. Ken's wood-cutting gloves have silver fingers. For years our Christmas trees have been held to hooks in the ceiling with sturdy pieces of orange twine. There is a long one that holds the door shut on the shower, not yet installed and stored in the garage. Until recently, the laundry room door was shut with a piece of twine wrapped around a nail.

          For years, our campsite was identified by rows of flag-like diapers. They were held with wooden clothes pins on orange bailing twine lines strung make-shift between two trees. There is a broken leather belt now spliced with silver and Elizabeth's white thong has an orange strip between her toes. A combination orange and silver handle replaces the broken one on the canvas rifle case.

          Through the years duct tape and bailing twine have saved us much grief. They have kept us going through times of loss and affliction. They have held together hats and clothes and appliances. They have saved repair bills and costly replacements. Duct tape and bailing twine. Ken buys his tape and hides it away from the rest of the family knowing that if we find it, it will disappear in all kinds of useful ways and when HE needs it, it will no longer be there. So now we need three rolls of tape at once for the house alone. One for Ken, one for me, one for the kids. Bailing twine is a hoarded commodity from our days on the farm. Short lengths, coiled and bundled neatly, hanging on nails in the garage. What else could be so serviceable and so inexpensive?

          Every car needs its own roll of duct tape and a length of bailing twine. In fact for a car, a length of that bailing wire is useful. Every apartment, too, needs its own tape and twine. As our children move from home we pack up some necessities. Other parents send dishes and pots and pans. We pack up duct tape, bailing twine, a hammer and a pair of pliers. We figure our kids can make it on their own, then. They're fully equipped to face life and stick it out. We're pretty sure they can then hold it all together till they figure out the rest.