I went to see my dad yesterday morning. We sat on his back porch drinking coffee before the sun came up. I was telling him about the projects I had going and the new tools I had acquired. After we visited, he took me out to his garage and led me to his old carpenter's box. He opened it up and inside it was all of his old tools. Hand saws, planes, yankee screwdrivers, chisels, scribes, brace bit, etc. Tools I remembered from my youth. Tools his dad had given him. Beside it was his old Stanley miter saw guide with back saw. I cut my first miter with that saw. He bent down and picked up a scribe and told me how he had gotten it out of his father's garage after he died. He'd pick up another tool and tell me when he got that one. There's a story behind every one and memories that cross generations.
Then he did something that made me get all choked up. He told me I could have them now. He's 70 and eaten up with arthritis to the point he can't do much anymore. Just a few minutes ago he was telling me how he'd like to redo the cabinets in the kitchen for my mom. Now he's offering me his tools. I didn't know what to say. When I told him he needs to hang on to them if he was going to redo the cabinets I thought I was saying the right thing. But I could tell by the look in his eyes that was a project he'd never get around to doing and he knows it. It breaks my heart. I can do his cabinets for him which he'll enjoy and I can even let him help me but the fact is he knows he can't anymore.
With Thanksgiving around the corner I hope you can look back like I can and be thankful for your father, the times shared and lessons learned... and the days remaining.