My own appreciation for hand-me-down tools didn’t solidify until I loaned out Grandpa’s metal file and it came back broken. I still haven’t figured out what the bozo was trying to pry with the file, but he managed to snap the last inch off the tip. I refrained from biting his head off on the jobsite, but I bought a new file that night. I keep both in my toolbox, but only the cheap one gets loaned out. Grandpa’s file is a finer cut and when I want a smoother finish, I think of how he would have done it.

Earlier in my tenure with that company, I was using a coworker’s folding wooden ruler and managed to break it, trying to be a hot shot and unfold it all at once instead of one section at a time. I felt ashamed, not only for my stupidity, but also because the ruler I’d just broken looked about as old as me. I ran to HQ at lunch and bought two new ones, one to replace Ken’s broken one, and one for myself. I still use it a lot; there are times when measuring tapes are just a hassle, and every time I do, I think of the stories Ken used to tell and the things he taught me.

A few months ago I passed a sign that said “Garage sale! Tools!”, and it didn’t take much deliberation before I turned the car around and followed the sign. I’d arrived at a Saturday-Sunday garage sale in the waning hours of Sunday afternoon, so the selection was pretty well picked over. I asked a question or two, and in the ensuing conversation, I realized that the fellow selling his tools wasn’t just looking for buyers, it wasn’t about the money, he was looking for caretakers. Each time I picked up a tool to check it out, he’d explain the story behind it, and maybe I’d share a bit about my own experiences with such a tool. Passing on the history of each piece was as important as the physical article itself. I bought some Vise-Grips and an adjustable wire stripper, and as I was leaving he implored me to take the saw set too, even though I insisted I didn’t have a use for it, as he said I was the only person all day who knew what it was.

I’m in my 30’s now and to this day every time I use it I have to smile when I think about those first few times with my dad patiently teaching me how to not mangle myself or the wood with it. Tools like that are special things; treasure them just as you treasure the people who gave them to you.

Happy Holidays to all you Toolmongers!

~ S

…and now I need to make (with gifted tools) signs for my shop, work desk, and home desk (i’m a computer nerd for a living) that remind me to “Work like a blacksmith”.

To know your tools, understand them (’cause you made ‘em), leave your touchmark on the things you’ve built, and to share those things with people you care about is one of the best metaphors for living I’ve ever come across. Thanks for that.

Happy Holidays!

Several times I have had a relative die and someone says “Is there anything you want of theirs?” And I say, any tool, no matter how insignificant. I have a somewhat crappy screwdriver that belonged to a distant cousin, but when I see it, I remember him, and that’s what matters…

BTW, the whole “gift card” thing is a blight on society. The point of gifting is the thought, not convenience. It’s not about what you want, it’s about the other person thinking of you.