Broken things?

In late May Em broke her foot by falling off a bar stool. This incident followed her enjoyment of a large cup of tea, and try as we might we haven’t been able to recreate exactly how she did it.

To break a foot ahead of the Summer months is a cruel stroke of anti-luck so we put out a post asking for help. The response has been overwhelming, so much so that for a couple of days organising volunteer “shifts” became a full time job!

The point of this blog is one, to say thank you to everyone who has offered support. And secondly, to share another story during the rounds on social media. After some searching online I haven’t actually been able to verify whether this is a true story or a heartfelt dream, but sometimes that doesn’t really matter because this reminds me how we work and how the YesTribe has functioned over the years.

A little kindness, a willingness to help others, identifying a gap in the “market” and occasionally battling the curmudgeonly rules of an unfriendly society. Seems like the roots of a worthwhile life to me!

So, here’s the story.

"When 79-year-old George retired, he didn’t buy a golf club or a hammock. He hung a handmade sign in his garage window: “Broken things? Bring ’em here. No charge. Just tea and talk.”

His neighbors in the faded mill town of Maple Grove thought he’d lost it. “Who fixes stuff for free?” grumbled the barber. But George had a reason. His wife, Ruth, had spent decades repairing torn coats and cracked picture frames for anyone who knocked. “Waste is a habit,” she’d say. “Kindness is the cure.” She’d died the year before, and George’s hands itched to mend what she’d left behind.

The first visitor was 8-year-old Mia, dragging a plastic toy truck with a missing wheel. “Dad says we can’t afford a new one,” she mumbled. George rummaged through his toolbox, humming. An hour later, the truck rolled again—this time with a bottle cap for a wheel and a stripe of silver duct tape. “Now it’s custom ,” he winked. Mia left smiling, but her mother lingered. “Can you… fix a résumé?” she asked. “I’ve been stuck on the couch since the factory closed.”

By noon, George’s garage buzzed. A widow brought a shattered clock (“My husband wound it every Sunday”). A teen carried a leaky backpack. George fixed them all, but he didn’t work alone. Retired teachers proofread résumés. A former seamstress stitched torn backpacks. Even Mia returned, handing him a jar of jam: “Mom says thanks for the job interview.”

Then came the complaint.

“Unlicensed business,” snapped the city inspector. “You’re violating zoning laws.”

Maple Grove’s mayor, a man with a spreadsheet heart, demanded George shut down. The next morning, 40 townsfolk stood on George’s lawn, holding broken toasters, torn quilts, and protest signs: “Fix the law, not just stuff!” A local reporter filmed a segment: “Is kindness illegal?”

The mayor caved. Sort of.

“If you want to ‘fix’ things, do it downtown,” he said. “Rent the old firehouse. But no guarantees.”

The firehouse became a hive. Volunteers gutted it, painted it sunshine yellow, and dubbed it “Ruth’s Hub.” Plumbers taught plumbing. Teenagers learned to darn socks. A baker swapped muffins for repaired microwaves. The town’s waste dropped by 30%.

But the real magic? Conversations. A lonely widow fixed a lamp while a single dad patched a bike tire. They talked about Ruth. About loss. About hope.

Last week, George found a note in his mailbox. It was from Mia, now 16, interning at a robotics lab. “You taught me to see value in broken things. I’m building a solar-powered prosthetic arm. PS: The truck still runs!”

Today, 12 towns across the state have “Fix-It Hubs.” None charge money. All serve tea.

Funny, isn’t it? How a man with a screwdriver can rebuild a world."

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Let this story reach more hearts...