From retired shipwright Dave Fleming:
“Twas only a kit of carpenter’s tools
We were chancing off that night.
The man who owned the tools was there
A carpenter whose hair was white.
To draw the stubs until the winning share
Would place the tools within another’s care.
Aye! Only a kit of tools you say
Objects of metal hard and bright.
No! We chanced off something else that day
Something that didn’t seem just right.
All the labor of yesteryear.
Homes that they built for those in the past
Of service come to an end at last.
Leaving his heart, his head, his hand
In a chest of tools, this white-haired man.
To end his days in a home for them
Whose years of service were at an end.
The sad look on that aged face
As each number shortened the space.
Of time when he must bid farewell for good
To old friends of his, of metal and wood.
He had used them for years, they were always there.
Twas awfully sad, the whole affair.
Like playing pitch with an old man’s soul.
Pushing him on to the final goal.
Into the sidelines and out of the race
While a younger man takes up his place.
The tools of his trade, the hammer and saw
It struck me with wonder and something of awe.
As we laughingly shout and loudly cry
To see who the winning share did buy.
How stupid of us, we were such fools
To think we were chancing off
Only CARPENTER’S TOOLS”
– Julius Frerich
“When we build, let us think that we build forever. Let it not be for present delight nor for present use alone. Let it be such work as our descendants will thank us for; and let us think…that a time is to come when those (heirlooms) will be held sacred because our hands have touched them, and that men will say, as they look upon the labor and wrought substance of them, ‘See! This our father did for us.’ “ –John Ruskin.
Replies
How meaningful - and Sad.
Tools mean so much to us. A short while ago, a friend said he would like to get into woodworking in his retirement. I prepared a list of tools I felt would be necessary for a 'startup' and that he should add to this list a the need arose with each new project.
I explained to him that, as I described each tool, I could feel the heft of that tool in my hand. What a wonderful connection we have with our tools and our time in the shop. We are a fortunate breed.
Frosty
"I sometimes think we consider the good fortune of the early bird and overlook the bad fortune of the early worm." FDR - 1922
One of the saddest days of my life was when my wife and mother-in-law asked me to clean out my father-in-law's workshop, and take what I wanted, a week or so after he died. He was a carpenter, and made a (extremely) good living for nearly 50 years with these old tools. His two sons, out of state, wanted nothing to do with the process, and asked me to handle it. I have not parted with any of them, and save them in their 8 or 9 tool boxes, in a corner in my shop. What a story those tools could tell...........
Nice thread!
Jeff
A friend of mine had an Uncle named Muncie. When Uncle Muncie passed away my friend was one of the few remaining males in the family and he therefore inherited Uncle Muncie's tool box. The tool box was made of plywood, that was probably scraps from some jobsite that was to be thrown way. This plywood was some of the best yellow pine plywood that I have ever laid my eyes on, and was finished with varnish and had aged to a very nice amber red color. Inside the tool box was quite a collection of tools including a Stanley corrugated #7, a brace and quite a collection of bits, 2 Brown and Sharpe yankee type screw drivers still in the original box, hand saws, draw knives, and a multitude of other assorted items. The tool box had been custom made to accomodate all these tools. My friend did not really know how to use these tools and gave the whole shebang to me.
Uncle Muncie's tool box now hangs on the wall in my shop, it now holds a combination of my tools and Muncie's tools. I have thought that I could easily make a much nicer tool box, but everytime I start thinking about that, I also start to think about how many jobs and projects were completed by Uncle Muncie using those tools, and I just can not see any sense replacing that kind of experience. I use that corrugated #7 almost everyday in my shop, and I just can't imagine that it was anything but fate that landed Uncle Muncie's tool box in my lap. Yeah, I think Uncle Muncie's tool box will do just fine for quite a while longer.
Ron Brese
Like others, I too am blessed with some of my dad's handtools, along with handtools from both my granddads. I put a tag on each of them labeling them as to whose they were. Hopefully my son or grandsons will want them.
Alan - planesaw
I figured we got a special place in Heaven if a woodworker arrives..
I sure hope the wood is free! Jesus was a carpenter or was that his dad that made him sweep up the shop?
My Labor day is here making'' a fuss with ya folks! I applied some Poly to my work and left the shop..
I am making a Baby changing table for my youngest daughter.. She has had had problems having children (And she owns a day care center?)
We never got along but she is my sweetheart.. Looks and acts just like my wife did at her age.. She is a pain sometime and she will always tell me.. I look and act like MOM so DON'T mess with me! LOL
Edited 9/3/2007 12:30 pm by WillGeorge
That's nice Bob (Dave). It reminds me of my grandfather - pretty much all of his tools and equipment were sold when he died. I have a few of his things, and his wall hanging tool chest. I'm still trying to figure out what he had in there. I'm posting from a remote location, otherwise I'd post a picture.
I spent the day painting the lady's boat's mizzen mast. Florida ain't made for painting in the summer time (thus my question under the 'Finishing' heading.)
Lloyd Kiser was an older guy who worked at the bench at Va Craftsmen Reproductions, back in the early 70's. When I got "promoted" from hand sander to the bench (assembly), I was assigned the bench next to his, which was Mark Miller's old bench. (Mark had retired back in the 60's but he'd spent his entire career at that bench, so it was still "his".)
During the year or so that we worked alongside one another, before he retired, Lloyd took the time to show me how to inlet butt hinges "his way". Also, he shared his veneering and inlay techniques. Though he was a tails first dovetailer, and I'd already crossed to the dark side of pins first, he was generaly tolerant of a young fellow's pi$$ and vinegar. Occasionally, he come up to me, and say, "C'mere, I want to show you something." And away we'd go to the veneer press, where I'd learn his way of laying up the fronts of a bowfront chest. "I'm not going to be around here to do this, and I want somebody to be able to, after I retire."
Once I watched him bob the corner off the case of a slant-front desk, using a handsaw he'd pulled from the toolchest that he kept on his bench. I asked to look at it when he finished, and as he held it out, he pecked on the blade lightly with a fingernail, and held it there, ever so lightly. "Hear it sing?" he asked. "That's good steel." The saw was a "Liberty Bell" Disston, bought just after the war, and was etched with a large "V", crossed flags, and the motto, "Let freedom ring throughout the land" over the liberty bell.
Lloyd retired, and passed away several years ago. He had no children, and I came home from the sale at his home with the tool box and his handsaw. Today I'll be taking that "Liberty Bell" Disston with me to cut a walnut mantel to length as I install it for a customer in town.
Ray
Wonderful story Ray. Thanks.
Regards from Perth
Derek
Years ago my wife and I were at the home of some friends for dinner. Later in the evening the husband asked me to come out to the garage to see something. On a bench was an old, dark, homemade toolbox. He indicated that this was what he was showing me. The thing was pure function, nothing fancy and it had seen hard use. I opened the lid and then saw something that made my eyes pop out. Cut crudely into the handle of the tray that sat into the box were the words “Upon my death this toolbox is to go to my grandson Steve”. Steve isn’t a woodworker. He’s not even what you could call “handy”. But he treated that battered old box like the crown jewels. He said he planned to give it to his son.
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