This one's for you, Paul B.

Tools

I like tools. I am not the first owner of the tools I treasure most. My corner (mortising) chisel, whetstone, blacksmith vise, and scythe were in the woodshop next to the home I grew up in. My brother and I spent many happy hours working there. Our home was a log house built in 1794. The woodshop was of later vintage, probably late 1800s.

I have a 12 oz claw hammer that belonged to my maternal grandmother. She would not let my grandfather touch it because he always lost her tools. I also have the knife she used to split salmon before hanging them up to dry. Dried salmon was what the sled dogs ate through the winter. In later years she used the same knife to cut her raisin bread.

A number of my tools came from patients, most of them now deceased. It's always a bit delicate to ask their widows if I can buy their tools, but I do really treasure the beautifully made sanding block that once was Clairmont Friday's. I have a really nice brace and set of augers that belonged to a patient of Dr. Secondari's in Boonsboro. Dr. Secondari was recovering from a mitral valve replacement and I did a locum tenens for him 20 years ago. The patient, whose name I'm blocking on but whose initials A.H.S. are on my tri-square, had been a handyman. He had suffered a stroke and had lost the use of his right arm and could just barely walk. His stroke had also affected his speech and he couldn't say much but he cried as he handed me his toolbox.

I have two anvils made from a short piece of train rail. One of them was made by my patient, Willard Hodsden's father. (More about the other one below) Mr. Hodsden was an electrical engineer and a master craftsman. I have many of his tools including his Delta drill press, table saw and wood lathe. He sold those to me but gave me the circa 1940 GE range and oven that is in our farmhouse. He had hung on to it because of the memory of the apple pies his mother baked in it.

I have several of Cecil Powell's tools. Though just five feet four, Cecil Powell was the strongest man I ever personally knew. He was the maintenance man for the nursing home I grew up next to. As a young man he had lived in Grafton, WV. He plowed the family farm with a team of horses. He laid rail on the lines built to haul coal out of the mountains. The other anvil I have was his. Cecil Powell was not a finish carpenter, but you could count on what he built would "hold you". He was always punctual, kept his word, said little and worked circles around most everyone else. He put away his tools for the last time when his second hip prosthesis failed.

This evening I needed to straighten a piece of steel I found at the dump. I'm going to use it to strengthen the tow bar on my tractor. I got out Cecil Powell's three pound ball peen hammer and his anvil. Years ago he cut some grooves in the hammer handle to increase its grip. He used a grinder to do it and the result is effective though not pretty . In about 10 minutes I had straightened the steel bar and now have it clamped to the tow bar ready to weld.

I'm thankful to have known all of these people. I think they would be happy to know I treasure their tools, the memory of their friendship and the lessons they taught me. I wonder what will become of my tools when I can no longer use them.