Last Monday night we returned home after attending my daughter’s graduation ceremony to discover that our kitchen plumbing under the sink was leaking. It was more than a one bucket leak. I thought I’d have to shut the water off for the night. But my husband Ron demonstrated what separates the men from the boys. He had just crawled into bed to read the paper at 9:00, exhausted and suffering from an ear ache, when I reluctantly informed him that we had a plumbing issue. I cleared everything out from under the sink and laid down clean towels. Ron handed me the fluorescent hurricane lantern and instructed, “Cover me, I’m going in.” After some head scratching and chin rubbing, Ron announced, “I think I have the right parts to fix this.” For once in my life I was grateful to be married to a pack rat, who squirrels away parts and pieces, tools and materials, nuts and bolts, enough to build a rocket ship in the basement if it becomes necessary for us to evacuate the planet on a moment’s notice. In less than an hour he replaced the defective parts and we had a dry kitchen. My plumbing hero! I won’t discuss his just rewards received for working magic under the sink since this is a family blog.