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"My dad was a carpenter."
That phrase is frozen in my memory. It was spoken by the Older and Only Brother. I don't recall what the event was or when it happened when I heard him say that.
The Brother's choice of memory about the Daddy surprised me, because I don't think of the Daddy as a carpenter. The Daddy did build things. He built the tool shed and the shelters for the chickens, pigeons, pigs, goats, and occasional cow or two that he raised and butchered for our food at the far end of the backyard. We lived in the county, a couple miles away from the city limits, so he could do that.
But, the buildings that the Daddy constructed were not of the quality of ones built by professional carpenters. I don't know if the Older and Only Brother ever helped him construct the buildings in the backyard. When we moved to that house, he was a teenager and always doing stuff for school or working part-time.
When the Daddy died, the Mama decided to tear down the chicken and pigeon coops as well as the goat and pig pens. So, that's what I did. Yanked out nails. Tugged at planks. Made noise and more noise. I enjoyed myself. It was a good way to get through the grieving.
Tearing down the Daddy's handiwork was not straightforward. In some places, it was like a crazy patchwork quilt. Boards were put up every which way. The Daddy used fresh lumber as well as old scrappy boards. In some places, he nailed boards over each other. And the nails. Oh, man. The Daddy hammered some nails in as far as he wanted, then bent them down. Whatever works seemed to be his motto. Why not?
As I write this, I realize now that even though the quality of the Daddy's handiwork may not be precise, neat, or organized, the structures he built were sturdy. They would have lasted many years. So, yeah, the Older and Only Brother was and is right.
The Daddy was a carpenter.
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| The Daddy and the Older and Only Brother |
Love this little story about your family. I miss my dad too. On April 19th, he will have been dead for 20 years. I can't believe it's been that long without him. God bless you and your family, love Moonwynd
ReplyDeleteThank you, Moonwynd. I like to think the first white butterfly I see every day is the Daddy saying hello to me. :-)
DeleteWhat a beautiful story - and an exceptional blog. Thank you for sharing with all of us - Yep, your dad was a carpenter - and an expression of Love.
ReplyDeleteHappy AtoZ Month
All best to You!
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Maggid, hello again. I appreciate you clicking to over here, too. Thanks for the kind words. :-)
DeleteSweet photo and a tender story. I love your description of the shed construction. Yup, those bent over nails always work but a bugger to get out. Ha
ReplyDeleteThanks, Manzi. I admit, I'm good at hammering them that way too.
DeleteThat was a well-written and beautiful account of your father.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteMy dad wasn't a carpenter, but he did build things. NEVER for aesthetics, however. He did build them to last. I think most of what he built would have withstood a bomb. :)
ReplyDeleteLOL! He sounded like a very cool guy.
DeleteMy husband is a carpenter. It's a noble profession that isn't honored as it should be. The men are amazing craftsmen and artists.
ReplyDeleteKate, that's for sure. Thanks for saying so. :-)
DeleteI'm that kind of carpenter too ... whatever works :D
ReplyDeleteCool! I've had the urge to build a box for quite a while. This may be the year I actually do it.
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