Turn Free as Free as the Wind Blows...

I do wood working. I mean I am not good at wood working but I like to get out in my garage where I have a very rudimentary wood shop and make saw dust when ever I can. I have really only been doing wood with a vengeance for the about the past 15 years. It all started one day when I was catching the bus home from work, when I still worked for the Independent Living Center—I was catching the bus on State street and I was sitting infront of a Pawn shop and the shop had a whole table of tools , hand tools, they were trying to sell: hammers, screw drivers, pry bars and chisels, wood chisels. I picked up a very used, but very righteous looking chisel and the tool just felt good in my hand. The edge of the chisel looked dull so I bout a whet stone as well maybe three dollars for the entire purchase and went home to my apartment.

The next couple of months I purchased sand paper, a vise, a small hand saw I just started turning into wood fiend. Even if I would have had my hands I doubt I would have been a better woodworker, but that did not matter. I had to work on wood. A couple of years later I was married and had a mortgage and the house had a small garage where I set up shop and then really went crazy, I purchased electrical drills, sanders, hand saws and a table saw. I was really making saw dust now but still I could not make anything like a shelf, chest of drawers hardly anything useful. I had found a wood mill not far from my work where the mill threw away literally tons of wood monthly. I started taking trunk loads of the oak home with me on the weekends and messing with the wood. I found I could make sticks. I rasp and sand pieces of wood and twist bicycle hook in the end and make a reaching device for wheelchair and short people.

My wood working addiction finally pinnacled when I purchased a full sized wood lathe from Sears. I got my neighbor to anchor the lathe to door I had laying round the garage and soon I was turning, really turning. Like everything else I was not very good but with enough power and a little practice I could do significant damage to a piece of wood, ending up with around, smooth rod apply a hook and I had a very nice reaching instrument. For one reason or another my garage became the resting place for a lot of junk and debris—I was not able to work in the winter do to lack of heat and soon my lathe was totally inaccessible. Family tried to help but the garage was just too messy.

This year my older brother retired. Now my older brother is a real wood worker, like my dad, my neighbor and Frank at work. I noticed my brother was slowly converting his garage into real wood shop. A couple of weeks ago when my brother had to rescue me from the market when my van died I started thinking that my brother could use wood lathe. My lathe needs to turn—even as much as I used my lathe I have not used my lathe very much. So, I made the call and let my lathe free. Carl came over and picked up the lathe today. He is excited, I am excited to see him excited and see that my lathe will be turning again like it should. Carl says he will put the lathe where I can come over and use it—when ever I want—we’ll see. I may just go bsck to rasping my pieces of wood smooth—it’s a lot less dangerous.