Sunday, January 24, 2010
Carrying on the tradition....
The house we now call home... comes with a big garage. Not as old as the house, but it's huge wooden beams and old barn floor tell the story of it's age.
Long ago, someone lived here who believed in wasting nothing. To cover small holes in the garage floor boards, old license plates were nailed down. The earliest is this one from 1939. The newest is almost fifty years fresher.
I can picture a man, dressed in overalls, on his knees in the garage nailing down this plate. Done, he stands a moment looking at his work, and then turns away as he says 'That'll do."
I spent a few hours this morning arranging tools and reloading gear out in the garage, thinking a little about the history as I went. For twice my lifetime that garage has been there, and probably been the refuge of a working man the entire time. In the attic, boxes of animal traps lay next to stacks of old lumber. In the rafters, bit's of leftover molding hang beside an ancient oil lantern.
Now, my gear is settling into a place where the spirits of men long gone watch over it. I can feel them in the old stained wood of the walls, and in the hardware still holding cabinet doors straight after fifty years of use.
It feels pretty good too.