September 2001

It’s a time I’ll never forget.  My life and the world changed.  It was also the only time I’ve ever worn a sword in public.  Seriously, a real renaissance style blade.  It matched my pumpkin pants and hat with the feather.

It was a time of transition.  During the spring I had asked Heather to marry me and to my surprise and delight, she agreed.  We knew we wanted to have the wedding outdoors and found a local park that had a grove of redwood trees with an area that was rented out for weddings.  Next to it was a group picnic area.  After a little discussion we also decided on a renaissance theme for the ceremony.  Heather made her dress and I found a place on-line to order the pants, doublet, shirt and hat.  A friend who I played D&D with had a sword to lend.

We took our pastor to the costume shop and rented her an appropriate renaissance style dress.  It didn’t take much to talk her into it.  In fact all of our friends and family went fully into the spirit of the thing and showed up in costume.  One friend even found a heraldic trumpet group and the wedding march wasn’t the typical wedding march, but rather a full trumpet fanfare that any renaissance noble would envy.

That September 30th was a magical day under the redwoods with our band of merry makers.

Such happy memories are sadly mixed with grief.  In June of that year, my father fell ill and I had to check him into the VA hospital.  He went downhill rapidly and died in August.

I ended up in a surreal place where one day I am planning a fun wedding and the next I am planning a memorial service and hiring a boat to scatter Father’s ashes at sea.

One day I am opening a box with a velvet doublet and another I am bringing Father’s flag home.

In the mist of this extreme happiness and sadness, the unthinkable happened.  I recall checking email early on the 11th and seeing a news report I couldn’t believe.  The TV had the same news.  I emailed Heather at her work and she’d seen it too. Arriving at the office, I found most of the staff in the employee lounge watching the reports of the towers collapsing, the Pentagon, and reports of flight 93.  The execs were asking if any of our people were in New York that day and after an hour or so, we were sent home.

I was shocked that anyone could even imagine doing something like that. Actually doing it was and is beyond my comprehension.  I don’t understand violence.  Terrorism makes no sense.

Heather’s sister was scheduled to fly out from England and be part of the wedding.  Hazel was planning on coming out for a couple of weeks before the wedding to help prepare and be a part of the fun.  By the end of day, we learned that was on hold and it was now uncertain if she’d get a flight in time or at all.

Each day we checked and each day we learned more about the horrible events of 9/11.

I know we had to adjust plans and somethings changed, but I don’t recall us ever asking if we should delay the wedding.  We just hoped that before the 30th, the airlines would be allowed to fly and Hazel would be able to enter the country.

We just moved forward and adapted to the changing world.  I said goodbye to my father, mourned the loss of fellow Americans, and entered into the happiness of married life with my best friend.

When I think of this day, I am always conflicted as it was a day of great sadness, but it was shortly followed by a day of my greatest happiness.

I wonder if my pumpkin pants still fit…

Till next week,
Andrew

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Friday Wisdom – Father’s Guard Duty Saying

In WWII my father took some of his training at Fortress Monroe Virginia at the Coast Artillery school.  Being an enlisted man he was assigned guard duty as part of his duties and training.  Like all other draftees he was taught the 11 general orders including:

To walk my post in a military manner, keeping always on the alert, and observing everything that takes place within sight or hearing.

Now I had to look that up because the version my father taught me was:

I will walk my post in a military manner and take no crap from the battery commander.

I’ve always suspect that father’s version of military life wasn’t exactly regulation.

More obersvations next week,
Andrew

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Wednesday Woodworking – Caged Garden: Where are the Plants?

Over the weekend I managed to get the doors built and installed:

Cage doors, built, installed, primed, latched and ready to keep critters out.

Cage doors, built, installed, primed, latched and ready to keep critters out.

Heather’s been busy too. She finished this section of pavers:

New paved area in front of the water area.

New paved area in front of the water area.

And she’s been working inside the cage too getting stepping-stones down and a row of gravel that we’ll put the planting boxes on.

Next on the project, Heather will finish paving up to the doors and more gravel.  I have a few trim pieces left to put up and then I am back to the shop to build the planter boxes.

If you need me – I’ll be in the shop,
Andrew

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Ora et Labora

On my computer screen there are six windows opened with writing in various stages of incompleteness.  In my workshop stand two nearly complete garden doors and piles of material waiting to be made into something.  If I just worked to complete what I’ve planned, it would take two years.

But my mind doesn’t work that way.  So far this week at a friend’s suggestion I’ve thought of three new books I could write along with two new major cabinetry projects.  By the time I catch up with my current projects, I expect to have collected a dozen more.

Sometimes I think that life would be easier if I was just obsessed by sports and spent my Sundays watching games and evenings reading stories about last Sunday’s contests. Other than mowing the lawn and changing light bulbs, I wouldn’t have to do too much.  Well, there would be trips to the store for drinks and chips.

That’s not who I am or what I do.

I am a maker. In the shop I make things that you can touch with your hand.  On the computer I put words together that build an image in your mind – a poem to share a feeling, a blog post to create a simile and a story just because it needs to be told.

It’s what I do.  Sometime I think about why I do it, but most times I end up in the same place.  I do it because that’s what I do. In a store, I’ll look at a product and think – I could make that.

Sometimes I try to bring theology into the picture.  God made us in his image.  God is a creator, therefore we must be creators to.  Perhaps a bit simplistic, but I often feel the most connected to God and the universe when I am creating something.  That sense of being at one with the world most often comes to me when I have a screwdriver in hand or I am sitting at the keyboard with the words flowing onto the screen.

At other times that feeling of being spiritually filled up comes while walking in nature or  an art gallery.  It just sets my mind free from cares, as I see possibilities.

Monastic orders sometimes viewed work as prayer. The Order of Saint Benedict’s motto is Ora et Labora – Pray and work.  I think I would have made a good monk . The act of work, creating, doing, is actually a prayer.  It can also be a mediation.  There is something about physical work that focuses the mind and soul.

It doesn’t really matter that I’ve not completed everything I’ve planned.

What really matters is that I’ve spent time in my shop, at the keyboard and I’ve been true to who I am.

Till next week,
Andrew

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