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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Nice memories, Sam. Your dad sounds a lot like mine. He is still around, and still has the garage full of old tools. But closing in on 80 he doesn't use them too much these days. Thanks for reminding me to appreciate all the stuff he taught me.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Great story. It's good to have some of "Dad's" things to keep the memories alive.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
I wish I had been able to know my dad like that. I lost mine when I was 10 years old and never got the chance. Enjoy your memories…they are precious…
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
I had similar experiences with my maternal grandfather. My dad was always too busy with other things. The whole family agreed that I got "first dibs" on the tools when he left us.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Thanks Sam…
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Thanks Sam, a very touching story.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Thanks for the story Sam. I can relate to it. Dad was a third generation carpenter. He was much better at rough carpentry than finish work but he did try to show me some woodworking techniques when I was younger. But, at the time, I really didn't make the time for it or have the desire to learn what he was trying to teach me. Now that I am heavily involved in woodworking I wish I had the opportunity to get his opinion and share his knowledge.

Thanks for sharing.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Sam, I have similar memories of my Father. I still have and use his tools and some of his shop fixtures though he has been gone since '84. Every time I'm in the shop I think how much I wish he was still around to see my progress, or so I could pick his brain on how to do something. Those old hands got more done with less, and it is a testament to their skill and determination. All the more reason for Father's with our woodworking affliction to share with their children while there is time. Thanks for sharing.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
A nice piece of history Sam. Thanks for the insight.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Great post Sam.

Brings back a lot of memories for me as well. Funny how at times when we're young we would rather be doing anything else but working with our fathers. As time goes by, there's nothing else we'd rather do.

When I was fifteen, he decided it was time for me to quit school and go to work for his plumbing business. I spent a lot of time with him, and learned many things, from mechanical items, to life lessons. He was a perfectionist, and demanded more from me than anyone else working with us. (Sometimes the bosses son isn't spoiled). He came from a time when fathers couldn't express there feelings, unless of course it was anger. No problem there! I moved away when I was eighteen, anxious to make my own way.

The first time he came to visit me I was in my early twenties. It was a surprise visit, and I hadn't talked to him since I moved. I was in the process of finishing a total renovation to a house I bought for myself to live in. He asked who's house it was, who did all these guys work for, who owned the trucks outside. He was shocked at what I managed to accomplish in just a few years. None of which would have been possible without the things I learned from him.

Some years later I was fortunate enough to have my father working for me just prior to his death. Big difference from when I worked for him. I was a better boss, as I was easy, where he was tough, very tough. (and I paid well too) LOL. Even then he was advising me I was doing everything all wrong!

Around noon I would tell him to go to a museum or gallery which he really enjoyed.

He was very proud of me, but couldn't tell me that. After his death, my stepmother sent me a copy of a letter he sent her, explaining to her how proud he was of me, and how amazed he was with what I was involved with, and the respect my clients and subcontractors had for me. Again, a direct result of what I learned from him.

That letter means more to me than anything else. It was then I realized to me that nothing else I accomplished in my life would ever be as important to me as that. It was then I came to the conclusion I was successful, regardless of anything else that I did or didn't succeed at.

I used to want to call him just to thank him for what he taught me. Fortunately, I did do it, and I'm grateful I did. I would forever be troubled had I not told him that.

I miss him very much!

Lee
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Sam, Lee great stories.

I help my dad from a small child. I was the only son and we did things together. Working in his shop to going out with a 22 and shooting cans. I was living half way across the country when he died so I don't have any of his tools. They all went on the 25 cent table at the garage sale.

I'm sorry for that. He deserved more than that. I miss him a lot also.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
It's good to hear that you folks got to work with your fathers. I never really got to work with mine much and I'm not really too upset about it. He was an accountant. ;-)
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
thanks for sharing your memories. So very special!!
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Hard to read some of these because they make me remember my dad. He passed away in 1980.
I have many tools that were his. Not one of my siblings ever showed any interest in much that my dad did, which was fine with me. Being the youngest this gave me uninterupted access to him and afforded me a lot of special time and attention with him and from him. Amazes me and distresses me that in spite of the 'advances' in materials his tools will probably outlast most of mine. He never spent money foolishly and bought the best quality he could afford. I've tried to follow that example - at least the latter part.
He always hated my choice of careers. I didn't know until after he died that he had been a fireman for a short time. He knew more about what I did and why I suppose than anyone. And I never thought he had a clue…
 

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Discussion Starter · #16 ·
My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
I appreciate your replies. Some of them brought major tears to my eyes like Lee's and CaptnA's. As we can see, regardless of where we are in our present-day lives, there is a bond between all of us that goes beyond woodworking. I feel for those of you who weren't able to have a lot of time with your fathers. Like CaptnA I was the youngest male (I have three sisters, one is my twin, and two older brothers) so I got to spend more time with dad. Even in his last years I spent as much time with him as I could. Lee's comments about his dad not being able to express love reminded me of my dad. He was the same way. He was never harsh or cruel, he was just old-world Italian and he grew up being taught by his dad to keep his emotions inside. But he showed his love in other ways. He worried about me a lot, about my job, my marriage, etc. - just as I worry about my daughters now. No major issues - just worry. Circle of life.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Ironically, I found that my dad even though he was a farmer and electrician and would fix many things. He often patched them up rather hastily and they would break rather quickly after they were fixed. It always made my mom so mad, when he couldn't fix anything right. Especially when he was drinking, the repairs got much worse, but amazingly took more and more time (time for drinking). Even though my dad is in AA now, his laziness in repairing things is still present to this day. I often would help and I would learn a lot, but often I would see what he was doing wrong. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I always liked taking things apart and figure out how they worked and the see if I could use that same concept to make something entirely new. My mom would often ask me to fix things after they broke again. So I kind of learned on my own. Even thought my dad wasn't always the greatest influence in my life, he influences to this day remind me what not to do and the basics he taught me were valuable. Especially now that I have a daughter my own, I see what I need to change in my life to make sure my daughter has the best life I can give her.
 

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Discussion Starter · #18 ·
My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
cpt,
You sound like you are a wonderful father. Good things can come out of struggles in life. Thanks for sharing that with me.
 

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My dad's tools

I remember many a day in my dad's shop when I was a very young boy. I would help him with anything he would let me do. I couldn't wait to wake up early on a Saturday morning and see what he & I would get into. I would always have a secret hope that today might be the day when he would use that particular tool up on the shelf I'd never seen used before. My older brothers were away in the military, and I grew very close to my dad. One morning in the shop out of the blue he told me that one day he would be gone and all of his tools would be mine. I knew I wanted him more than that but I didn't realize at the time that statement would stay with me for the rest of my life. That was over 40 years ago. He's been gone now about 5 years. I've been able to keep some of his tools, and use some of them regularly. I have an old hand-crank grinder that I used to crank for him while he sharpened something. A hand-held Dremel 'Motosaw' that to this day I have never seen anywhere else (I'll try to post a picture of it sometime). I have some tools he made during his time in the CCC camps before WWII. He had a hard life. There are a lot of times when I feel a twinge of sadness but I feel good knowing that I try to create something beautiful and lasting using something he made and gave me. And in a lot of ways it was something more than just the tools themselves. One thing I learned from my dad was he seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. A jack of all trades and a master of a whole bunch of them. Everything from plumbing, carpentry, electrical work to sheet metal work. I tried to learn as much as I could.

Dad made mistakes like everyone else. He taught me what was more important and that was how to fix things when they did break. I guess that's why I became an engineer. I learned a lot from him when we tore down old houses. There is a place in town that is now a small park. Before it became a park, my dad and I tore down the houses that were there for the material. We later made a barn from what we were able to collect. I think of dad every time I go by that park. I see the little children playing, having no idea what history took place before the swing set they were on was there. And, myself, I have no idea what history took place before we tore the houses down. But I remember that moment in time. I also remember the million or so red clay bricks we carried home. We used them in the floor of the barn we built.

Today, the barn is gone. There are so many times when I wish was little again cranking that grinder for my dad…
Sam, thanks so much for sharing a piece of you and your dad with all of us. This makes me cry to know their are others that can truly understand the ache in my heart when I think about my dad. Working together with your dad (and your daughters will really appreciate that), side-by-side deepens and enriches that relationship greatly.
 

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Discussion Starter · #20 ·
Going In Halves On a Lot of Wood

A few years ago me and my friend Mike were talking about woodworking and he told me of a sawmill that had great prices on unseasoned wood. We went together and bought about 1000 board feet of mixed hardwoods, oak, maple, and poplar. We got it for $300. It was from a mill near a farm his family had near Rio Grande, Ohio. I bought my half sight unseen. I just had to have the wood. And at $150 for 500 bd ft, how could I go wrong? I didn't think about (or realize) the fact that I only had a small Ford Ranger pickup, I lived an hour and a half away from where his farm was, and was another 20 minutes past that to get to the lumber. And that the lumber would be in huge dimensions. Didn't know and didn't care. In hindsight, if the same offer came up today I would still do it.
Anyway, I drove the hour and a half to Mikes. Mike and I then went to the mill and asked them if they could deliver the lumber to Mike's. They said they could but it would be the following week. So another long drive back home and back the following weekend. We patiently waited on the lumber truck. Mike had a pretty good idea how big the dimensions would be but didn't say anything. The truck slowly came lumbering up the hill to his farm. It was an 18-wheeler size truck with a flat bed covered with wood from one end to the other. I stood there thinking how in the world will I be able to haul my part home? The boards were on average 16" to 20" wide, a minimum 5/4 rough stock, and typically 19' long. There were also 2×8 cuts in the same lengths, and 4×4 posts in 10-12' lengths. I stood there with my deer-in-the-headlights stare and slowly looked at Mike. Mike grinned and said 'Merry Christmas!'.

At first we tried to unload it board by board but that was a futile effort as it was going to take all week with that approach. We came up with the idea to tie ropes around it and then tie the other ends to fence posts and literally drag it off of the bed of the truck. Our first attempt failed as the rope broke so we went into the nearest town and bought a bunch of nylon ropes. That worked. With a resounding crash the lumber came off of the truck one stack at a time. We worked for two days (more trips for me) to get it out of the weather and into his barn. He let me keep my half there and pick it up as I could. I must have made 20 trips in my little Ranger. And I fondly remember the boards hanging out 10' or so out the back. I did have a red flag on it :). The truck bed sagged fearfully all the way home and I couldn't drive more than 40 mph. But the whole time I kept thinking of what I would do with all of this beautiful lumber. Most of it was clear. Absolutely beautiful material. I still have about half of it after ten years. I'm planning on using some of it for the Morris chairs I hope to build this summer. Even though we worked our tails off, it was worth it and that was the most fun I'd had in a long time. And at that price I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
 
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