Sorry about the problems sending this the first time. Many
thanks to the gentle feedback & test messages sent to
clear up my problem. I wouldnt wish teeny teeny messages
even on rec.normies - anyway heres the resend:

Hello all,

I guess you could say my interest in old planes &
handtools started when I "helped" my carpenter grandfather
turn old ratty lumber into a simple box back in the summer
of '64. I can still recall all those firsts:  the sound of
a well tuned No. 4, the smell of the wood, drilling pilot
holes, driving brads, oiling the wood, ... all in a single
afternoon. The deep pride I felt at seeing how nice it
turned out.

My father introduced me to the wonder of electronics when
he returned from serving overseas a year later. Crystal
radios, soldering, schematic diagrams, ohms law, tv
repair, this became my life for the next several years. I
remember feeling the earth shake as I read that Popular
Electronics issue about building your own computer. We
still chuckle over my dad's quote at that time: "What
could you ever do with nothing but 1's and 0's?"



I realized somewhere along the way "building" things had
become something more like a space shuttle operation than
Kitty Hawk. I missed that feeling you get when working
with your hands, running wild&free with just a fuzzy
notion, and simple decisions.

A couple of years ago my grandfather had a massive stroke.
Within hours our vary large & extended family had gathered
from all over the country to the hospital to be near our
patriarch. At times like these seems like everyone has a
favorite story to tell and I could not come up with a more
treasured one than that shared afternoon of so long ago.
The wordless lessons about pride, workmanship, mistakes,
and correcting them have served me since.

I mentioned how heavy that Stanley smoother had felt at
that time. My grandmother told us that he had bought it to
when he built the first house they ever owned in the mid
forties. My mom confessing (after all these years) that
she was the one who left it outside in the rain after
secretly playing with it. Everyone seemed to remember this
exact tool and my grandfather using it at one time or
another. You would have thought the man was born holding
it ready to smooth his baby crib. When he passed away we
took comfort knowing that the things he built over so many
years and for so many of us would still be here after we
were gone.

A couple of weeks ago my grandmother asked me over. On the
coffee table sat a slightly rusty, paint spattered, heavy
casted, vintage smoother. She told me she wanted me to
have it and was sorry it took her so long to find it as he
had been using it to make some birdhouses for a neighbor.
I picked it up and ran my nail over the iron and it was
still razor sharp.

The emotions I felt can hardly be expressed in words. A
fine well built & well kept tool that was a part of my
grandfather's working life for almost sixty years is now
in my keeping. You can see my grandmother understood what
a common plane meant to a poor carpenter she had been
married to for almost sixty years. She must have seen him
take it apart, oil the parts, and store it away inside
countless times. She must have understood what it would
have meant to be given to a grandson who now dreams of
building fine wooden things. You see old tools have
romance, a story to tell, work yet to be done, and a
bonding with the craftsman that is near impossible to
duplicate or relate to others.



Yesterday my 10yr old son picked up the plane and said
"Hey dad, what's this thing used for?"

Hoping to be worthy of the bandwidth,

Rick