OldTools Archive

Recent Bios FAQ

269488 gtgrouch@r... 2019‑12‑06 Re: Shop tales and a WTB
Speaking for myself, I find that the aroma of the shop takes me back
home faster than anything else. 

	I first helped my Dad by being stationed at the outfeed table of a
tool we don't mention. He took woodworking classes at the Bucks County
Community College, and his teacher clued him in to an estate sale, so
he got an old but servicable tool that had years of use in the hands
of an experienced woodworker. 

	I recently took that tool to a construction site 300 miles away,
where I'm using it to custom-fit cabinets, and it's still giving me
excellent service.

	Every time I use it, I remember.

	Gary Katsanis
Albion New York, USA
(where we've had an early snowcover for weeks)

	-----------------------------------------From: "Thomas Johnson" 
To: "Tools Old"
Cc: 
Sent: Thursday December 5 2019 8:25:32PM
Subject: [OldTools] Shop tales and a WTB

Greetings fellow Porch sitters ...

 This morning I got up with nothing important on my to-do list so I
took
 coffee to the shop and re-handled a boys axe ... repaired a bar stool
for a
 friend ... still had time so there was a POS Type 19 5c on the shelf
that I
 had picked up long ago that was rusty, crusty and needing a LOT of
TLC. SO
 ... I decided to tear into it ....Scraped, sanded, andwire wheeled
the
 BeJeezuz out of it and polished and oiled and buffed and, hmmm, this
might
 be worth staying with it. The blade and chip-breaker were covered
with a
 thick rust bloom, but when it was de-rusted, *no pitting*! The tote
had a
 chunk busted out of it near the top so - off to the attic where I
keep my
 treasure trove of Brazilian rosewood scraps.
 Thats when things started getting good. Anyone who has had the
pleasure
 knows that the aroma of rosewood is like a mood-altering drug .. Now
 things were getting a little zen-ish ... I was "in the zone", "lovin
every
 minute of it" ... getting stuff done ... aware that I was wearing a
smile,
 and then, I realized that this is the 50th anniversary of my Dad's
death.
 I was 23 when he succumbed to lymphoma

 As a small boy, I would sit on the floor of his shop and make things
out of
 the scraps that feel to the floor ... I would take his Yankee drill
and
 just drill holes by the dozens because it was so amazing and so fun
to do.
 I watched him turning spiral lamp stands ... carving ships with a
draw
 knife and a little carving set. We were poor so he made furniture for
the
 house of of discarded furniture he salvaged from the city dump. Of
course
 back then it was all good hardwood. Later, as a teen I helped him
build a
 pickup camper .. then to work construction with an uncle before
heading
 off to college.

 Those shop smells. The smell of pine takes me back to my dads shop
and to
 a host of priceless memories. He had an 8th grade education but he
was
 gifted with his hands.
 Those shop smells. It started today with the rosewood, and the shop
 smelled like it did long ago when I made a silverware chest out of
rosewood
 for my daughter's wedding present. Good memories.
 Then ... the smell of wire-wheeled rust ... WD-40 ... carnuba wax ...
 spray lacquer and all the dozens and dozens of hand planes I restored
and
 sold 20 years ago.
 But it turned into a day with Dad in the shop ... still smiling as I
write
 this ....

 And now, a beer and a book .... perfect end to a very very good day.

 Oh ... the WTB... Anyone have a 2 3/8" screw for a front knob? and
the
 brass nut?

 Anyone else has shop tales that were triggered by aromas?

 Peace out good friends.
 Tom
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