Hand crafted.

Three years ago I wrote about a couple of old men I had encountered through work when I was a young man. There was mailroom Joe, who hoped we could become friends like on TV, but he was fired from the job soon after. And there was Gabe, a doddering old man who duly showed up for work every day at the company he had founded maybe fifty years earlier, but they didn't let him do anything anymore. I thought it was interesting to remember those men, how each in his way tried to hold on to relevance in a world that really didn't care. 

There was a third man whom I wanted to write about, but I couldn't do it unless I found the present he gave me. And I'm very happy to say that I found it during our recent move.

So, what is it and how did it come into my possession? 

This is a small hand-carved monkey wrench, made from a single piece of wood. The dial on the handle opens and closes the grip. It is smooth as silk.

One summer in college I worked in a living museum kind of thing -- where you dress in Olde Tyme clothes and tell people about the place and what people did in the past. I was in the carpentry shed, with a bunch of tools and a foot-powered lathe and pants with a flap in front and suspenders and a collar with a necktie and a vest. Jolly old town carpenter, that was me! Fortunately I didn't actually have to make many things. Craftsmanship did not descend upon me with the title. 

But craftsmanship was certainly thriving in the old man -- whose name I have forgotten if he ever gave it -- who came to visit once in a while to discuss woodwork. I had no real knowledge, but he didn't mind. He liked to tell me the kinds of projects he was doing. And I liked to listen to him, but he did get in the way -- when people would come in, I had to do my history schtick. And he'd be there in his 20th century clothes, sometimes adding information that was not helpful and sometimes irrelevant. 

But if there was a visitor who did know about woodcraft, the kind of fellow who liked to play Stump the Docent ("What kind of wood are you using? Was that found in this area at the time? What sorts of household goods would be made here? What would the local carpenter charge for say, a table and eight chairs?"), then my elderly friend was exceptionally helpful as a distraction. 

I was a college kid! You couldn't expect me to know anything! 

Anyway, as the end of the summer season approached, my friend gave me that little monkey wrench. It's beautiful. The wheel is perfect and the hand-carved screw on the clamp still works as well as it did all those decades ago. It was very kind of him to part with this, and I have always enjoyed showing it to guests.  

I wish I knew the fellow's name -- gone now, I'm sure, but he was another example of the kind of man we often see. Retired, enjoying a hobby of small interest to most people, but capable of amazing flourishes of skill. Thanks for visiting, Woody, or whatever your name was, and thanks for the gift. I cherish it still.