If anyone cares to hear a story about me, here goes:
When I was growing up, my folks worked night and day. Back then, my parents didn't make great money, but they were determined to make it stretch and cover their expenses. Without saying, there wasn't any room in their budget for tools.
Yet, my dad is a master craftsman, and I've never seen anything in the world that he couldn't fix. I'm not kidding. That man can fix anything, and repair it perfectly. It is one thing to see someone repair an item with duct tape and baling wire, and it is another to see my father's end product. His stuff is perfect, in every way, and will never need repair again.
One of the big differences between other master craftsmen and my dad is that most master craftsmen have an endless supply of tools. Not my dad.
I watched him for years repairing stuff with a handful of basic tools, and mostly low end ones at that. It was a different world back then, without the internet, or mega box stores on every corner that carry aisle after aisle of every tool imaginable. He didn't have the luxury of walking into a Sears store, ordering a truckload of tools, and slapping down a piece of plastic to pay for it.
Sometimes, my mind carries me back to the days when I was just a boy, and I can still visually reach across dad's make shift workbench, pull his heavy brown painted tool box towards me, and peer down into the tool tray. I can see all those tools, as if they sit before me today. There was an unpainted utility knife; a pair of cheap Sears channel locks; a blue handled pair of six inch pliers; a small set of Fuller brand red painted wire snips; a couple of dull cold chisels, complete with mushroomed ends; a large, fold out single bladed lineman's knife with a hook blade and a soiled walnut handle; an eight inch Sears adjustable wrench, a mix-matched set of Craftsman screwdrivers; a Taiwanese made hack saw; a pair of all-in-one wire strippers that were so cheap they wouldn't have pulled the paper off of a drinking straw; a set of low quality, made in Japan Sears combo wrenches, standard sizes, of course, in a yellow vinyl pouch; partial rolls of electrical tape and leaded solder; a Bluegrass brand two inch putty knife that was so worn that the corners of the blade are rounded off; a beat Stanley wood chisel; and finally, a maroon handled Sears brand hammer that the head would fly off of it if you weren't careful.
Sometimes I get a little sad thinking about how he struggled all those years without good tools, or even the proper tools to complete a job. But never once did I hear him complain, get upset, blame his tools for a difficult job, or quit working on something because of the tools he owned. He just forged ahead with what he had, and engineered around his lack of tools.
It is a little depressing, too, knowing that I own box after box of tools, including three large chest size tool boxes, yet I have not even 1/10th the skill that my dad has, and most likely, never will.
They say that you can tell everything about a man by looking at his tool box. Some say it will show you a man's aptitude, his skill set, and how he views the world by the way he treats his tools. If that is supposed to be true, then I am here to say that my dad's tool box is the biggest liar you'll ever meet.
You'd never guess, by judging his old tool box, that he is one of the finest craftsmen anywhere, and he did it with a mere handful of poor quality tools.
Oh, by the way, all that hard work and dedication to living below his means has paid off, and he has a respectable tool collection now of all good quality names. But even these days, I still see him reach for his old favorites, the tools that have been around since the early 70's, except for the maroon handled Sears hammer and the Bluegrass putty knife.
Those two tools are safely locked away in my own toolbox, not only because they are now considered family heirlooms, but because they remind me of the master skill, perseverance and patience that my dad has.
