I had just about turned twenty when Pop retired, he was about eighty at the time, he had worked for my dad for about fifteen years as a carpenter doing repairs and reconstruction on my fathers rental units, I was hired as his helper and worked with him the last five years of his employ.
His real name was Edward but everyone called him Pop, he was a small man but strong for his size, he was born and raised in Canada and came to the US after he was married.
I don't know where he learned his trade, but it was at a time when everything was done without the help of power tools, he was a really good woodcrafter and did most everything the old way.
Pop was almost deaf in his later years and wore one of those old hearing aids that had one wearing a wired earpiece and a small control box clipped to his shirt pocket, I used to joke with him by mouthing something, he'd turn up the volume on the control and say "what you say", I'd repeat what I said loudly and he'd scramble to turn down the volume, I now wonder if he new what I was doing and humored me to be a nice guy.
Not liking to live alone, when his wife died, at eighty years old he disappeared for a week, not a word to anyone, then returned home with his wife's younger sister, they married a few weeks later.
Pop smoked a pipe, he went through about three bowls full of tobaco a day, and about a full box of wooden kitchen matches, at the end of the day they'ed be strewn all over the job site.
Once when he started to use a 'skill saw', he was cutting strapping for a ceiling job, he'd cut a few pieces, put the saw down and move the lumber up for the next cut and repeate the process, being deaf he didn't hear that the blade guard didn't snap back into place, when he layed the saw down on the floor the blade bit into the wooden floor and ran right across his foot just about cutting off the end of his shoe and two of his toes.
I wrapped his foot and rushed him to the local hospital where they checked his cuts and told him he'd be fine and that they would treat him shortly, they told me to check him in with administration, I did and returned about ten minutes later to find Pop gone, a nurse showed up asking for him, I told her I thought they were treating him, so I followed the drops of blood from where he was sitting to the outside door, I saw him walking across the parking lot, when I asked him where he was going he simply said, "home, they won't let me smoke my pipe".
Ok, now that you've met Pop, here's the point of my story, I guess Pop thought enough of me that when he retired he gave me his beloved tool box and tools, Mostly cutting tools, odd chisles, small planes, a couple of hammers, hand drill and bits, three hand saws, one finish, one roughing saw, and a rip saw, all old, all sharp, all lovingly cared for, a framing square, folding ruler, and a Plumb shingling hatchet.
I've still have most of those tools though I haven't thought about them for a long time until I uncovered pop's Plumb carpenter's axe yesterday, it's got to be sixty years old now, I haven't used it in thirty or more years, yet it's rust free and still sharp, and the haft is still tight.
I'm thinking that it would make a really good bushcrafting axe, lighter than a camp axe, a little heavier than a 'hawk, and so well balanced.
Thanks Pop.
His real name was Edward but everyone called him Pop, he was a small man but strong for his size, he was born and raised in Canada and came to the US after he was married.
I don't know where he learned his trade, but it was at a time when everything was done without the help of power tools, he was a really good woodcrafter and did most everything the old way.
Pop was almost deaf in his later years and wore one of those old hearing aids that had one wearing a wired earpiece and a small control box clipped to his shirt pocket, I used to joke with him by mouthing something, he'd turn up the volume on the control and say "what you say", I'd repeat what I said loudly and he'd scramble to turn down the volume, I now wonder if he new what I was doing and humored me to be a nice guy.
Not liking to live alone, when his wife died, at eighty years old he disappeared for a week, not a word to anyone, then returned home with his wife's younger sister, they married a few weeks later.
Pop smoked a pipe, he went through about three bowls full of tobaco a day, and about a full box of wooden kitchen matches, at the end of the day they'ed be strewn all over the job site.
Once when he started to use a 'skill saw', he was cutting strapping for a ceiling job, he'd cut a few pieces, put the saw down and move the lumber up for the next cut and repeate the process, being deaf he didn't hear that the blade guard didn't snap back into place, when he layed the saw down on the floor the blade bit into the wooden floor and ran right across his foot just about cutting off the end of his shoe and two of his toes.
I wrapped his foot and rushed him to the local hospital where they checked his cuts and told him he'd be fine and that they would treat him shortly, they told me to check him in with administration, I did and returned about ten minutes later to find Pop gone, a nurse showed up asking for him, I told her I thought they were treating him, so I followed the drops of blood from where he was sitting to the outside door, I saw him walking across the parking lot, when I asked him where he was going he simply said, "home, they won't let me smoke my pipe".
Ok, now that you've met Pop, here's the point of my story, I guess Pop thought enough of me that when he retired he gave me his beloved tool box and tools, Mostly cutting tools, odd chisles, small planes, a couple of hammers, hand drill and bits, three hand saws, one finish, one roughing saw, and a rip saw, all old, all sharp, all lovingly cared for, a framing square, folding ruler, and a Plumb shingling hatchet.
I've still have most of those tools though I haven't thought about them for a long time until I uncovered pop's Plumb carpenter's axe yesterday, it's got to be sixty years old now, I haven't used it in thirty or more years, yet it's rust free and still sharp, and the haft is still tight.
I'm thinking that it would make a really good bushcrafting axe, lighter than a camp axe, a little heavier than a 'hawk, and so well balanced.
Thanks Pop.
