This Enemy Town

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Pay it back or pay it forward?

That one’s easy. If I had to pay back every saint who left a fresh-baked loaf of bread or a hot casserole on my doorstep during the worst of my chemotherapy days, I’d be standing in the serving line at the Clay Street Helping Hand shelter, dishing up baked beans and mashed potatoes until the next coming of comet Kahoutec.

So I pay it forward, like in the movie. Out of the blue and for no reason, I do favors for strangers. And when they ask how to pay me back, I say they have to pay it forward. To three more people. Each.

When I first met Dorothy Hart at the Naval Academy Wives Club luncheon in January, I never dreamed that paying it forward would involve the use of power tools. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as much a handy-mom as the next woman on Prince George Street. You have to be when you live on Prince George, a three-block section of gorgeous, but chronically needy, eighteenth-century homes. My husband Paul signed us up for cable, in fact, so I could watch Talk2DIY on Home and Garden TV and House Doctor on BBC America. And, I was first on the block to raise my hand when Home Depot started offering Do-It-Herself home-improvement workshops.

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