One of my grandfathers was a cabinet maker and put himself through medical school that way. I inherited a couple of his toolboxes which were loaded with different kinds of molding planes and a Stanley 55 multi plane and also a 45 multi plane. I used to study my fine wood working magazines and taught myself how to sharpen the edges properly. My grandfather passed over when I was little, five or so, but when I would use his planes while making frames for stained glass windows and such I felt a wonderful connection with him through the tool itself as if we were both using it, just taking turns. And to work in a shop with a fire in the wood stove, snow falling outside the window and the only sound being the 'snick' of a long shaving curling and eventually falling to the floor, to be followed by another and another. There's nothing quite like it. I sometimes felt very strongly that my grandfather was there in the shop with me in spirit. I'd like to think so.
I passed almost all of my hand tools on to my sons who professed appreciation at the time they were received. But I don't think any of the tools are used. They like things that run on electricity and do jobs quickly. And I think they like noise.
There used to be a program on public television called The Woodwright's Shop. I so much enjoyed that... perhaps not the fine work that precision tools do, but even a foot powered lathe, draw-knives and wooden planes get the jobs done with their own kind of elegance. My own preference is for things made with dovetails cut by hand, mortise and tenon and simple wood joinery with trenails and such. Careful, frontier carpentry, if you will.
I was never much fond of church as a child and turned my attention to the wood working and the stained glass windows... many Sunday mornings were made bearable by such beauty to stare at and try to understand. I got something out of church anyway...
Wood is good. (A short poem.)
SB