The memeories of those who taught me and nurtured the love of woodworking. My father, my grandfather, my mentor Bob.
But every time I pick up a hand plane, I think back to my woodworking teacher from the 4th through 8th grades, Mr. Haas. An older gentleman, very formal and proper, but somehow, he could reach into our souls.
And he was never one to allow us to rest a plane on its sole for fear of knicking the blade. To this day (I'm 52), I ALWAYS lay my planes down on their sides.
And every time I pick up a plane, I feel the comfort of Mr. Haas' knowing gaze and kind smile!
But every time I pick up a hand plane, I think back to my woodworking teacher from the 4th through 8th grades, Mr. Haas. An older gentleman, very formal and proper, but somehow, he could reach into our souls.
And he was never one to allow us to rest a plane on its sole for fear of knicking the blade. To this day (I'm 52), I ALWAYS lay my planes down on their sides.
And every time I pick up a plane, I feel the comfort of Mr. Haas' knowing gaze and kind smile!