Andrew's View of the Week

Kids and Woodworking

Posted on 08/04/2013 by Andrew Reynolds

The family legend in my family, as spread by my mother, was that grandfather could drive a three inch nail through two boards with three blows of the hammer – one to set, one to drive and one to set the head flush. I never saw my grandfather do that but I do remember the one time he showed me how to hammer in a nail. I was maybe seven and the lesson didn’t last long but I still hold my hammer the way he showed me.

I’ve never been able to drive a three inch nail with just three strikes – managed it in four once, but normally I take about six.

My mother’s side of the family were mostly craftsmen – grandfather ran a hardwood flooring company, an uncle a cabinet shop, and so on. Guess I inherited the building gene and my love of wood from them. I don’t have a great story of hanging around their shops. Grandfather died when I was just nine and my uncle lived in another state.

But I did hear the family stories and early on found myself able to handle most tools.

The grandkids are still in town and they, like most kids, are interested in what the adults in their lives do. I’ve tried to explain software engineering to them, but they don’t seem to grasp the finer points of software configure management, or my latest DevOps theories.

They are very interested in my workshop – or rather that messy disaster that passes for my shop. They like to do woodworking. I have thought that I should teach them some shop skills. One day I did spend sometime looking up kids woodworking projects and wow there is some impressive stuff out there.

And most of it looks like an adult planned each step, guided each saw cut and held the hammer for each nail. Frankly, that just looked boring. Then I found this really cool project in a scroll saw magazine – a boomerang shooter.

boomerang shooter

There is no way a kid could build it but I figured if they just thought they helped it would be a cool experience for them. One of the twins just loves being with me in the shop so I had him help me. He did some of the simple cuts on the scroll saw (with me holding the wood) and I let him pull the handle down on the drill press a few times.

He did fail the sandpaper task – just couldn’t convince him that two passes wasn’t enough.

While the project was fun and all the kids are practicing shooting the little cardboard boomerang, grandpa did most of the work.

My theory of kids learning the fine art of woodworking is this: Give them hammer, some nails, a box wood and let their imagination run.

I’ll give one lesson in hammering and then just sit in a corner and watch for safety violations and questions. I have a bunch of other rules, but I find that in time they get the message. There are lots of things I won’t let them do – drilling holes, cutting wood, throwing blocks of wood at their brothers… etc

I figure it’s important for them to figure out how to do with what they’ve got in front of them. After awhile they do discover that holes need to be drilled, and wood needs cutting to size so they learn that they can ‘out source’ to grandpa – mark where you want the cut, or where you want the hole – and grandpa will use the power tools to do what they want. It can be hard for me sometimes not to comment on what they are building – even if I know it’s not going to work out they way they want.

Four busy kids

The best way to learn it to make mistakes. My job is provide a safe place to explore and let their imagination run. Here are some of the pieces they made yesterday:

Our grand daughter joined the fun yesterday and made this doll’s desk:

E’s doll’s desk

Here is a kid’s version of a catapult. It uses rubber bands and can shoot a plastic golf ball about two feet. A few engineering changes are planned:

“A’s” Project

The exact function of this has still not been told to us, but it took two holes and a bunch of nails to put together:

“D’s” Project

This is still a work in progress. We ran out of time and it’s waiting for grandpa to make a cut.

“B’s” Project

and while they were all working I put a few more boards down on my deck:

This weeks’ progress on the deck

They only have one more week with us so I don’t know if we’ll get another afternoon to make things, but they are hoping Gran will get some paints out so they can do some painting on their projects.

Till next week,
Andrew

Posted in woodworking | Tagged grand kids, Kids projects, kids woodworking, woodworking | 2 Comments

Juxtaposition

Posted on 07/28/2013 by Andrew Reynolds

Where to start?

It’s been a very busy week here and looking back at the whole week just makes me even more tired and my back aches a little more. It’s been a good week, great week, or as my grandson has been saying all week, “It’s awesome, really awesome.” Everything is awesome to him.

Oh to be nine again and view the world through young eyes. To see the world anew. How can one achieve that? How does one move beyond the cynicism that age and disappointment can bring?

Perhaps it’s best not to wax too poetic tonight.

I suppose the juxtaposition of life is feeling a bit weird right now. Tonight our three grandsons have been here for a full week and we’ve had a blast so far. Monday night we packed up the cars and Tuesday morning we headed up to Tuolumne Meadows in the Yosemite high country for a few days of camping. We were outnumbered, 3 kids (11 and 9 year-olds twins) to four adults – a mom, an uncle and two grand parents.

Tuolumne Meadows holds a special place in my heart. My mother took me there as a child. It was special to her – a spiritual place, a place that held her soul. It is one of the few places where I can breath in and feel my soul renewed and energized. It is a gift she left me.

We took the kids on a couple of hikes. One out to Soda Springs and another up to Dog Lake. I’ve written before about my mother taking me on my first backpacking trip starting at Tuolumne. On the way back from that trip I sat on the bridge near Soda Springs waiting for her to come around the corner. Every time I see that spring and that bridge I can’t help but think of her.

So there I was with a new generation, marching around all the familiar places, showing them the things that have held a special place in my heart. Yet, I felt a bit frustrated not being able fully express what the place means. I can only hope that these kids understand some of what I feel – that if they ever return, they might think kindly of me.

Sigh… Best not to go there.

So much joy in the house – a Lego village is springing up in the living room. The Harry Potter train is out and the track is laid in a great circle. Gran was asked to make an RV and there are a number of buildings – houses for family and I’ve been officially asked to make a building for the city.

Then there is a thirst, a hunger in these children I find refreshing. To learn, to be helpful, to grow. We taught some camping skills. Making smores being among my favorites. Okay, not likely to save their lives but still the fine art of roasting marshmallows shouldn’t be lost, so I feel it important that they learn it.

One of the kids really wants to do some woodworking. He’s been asking all week. It’s a challenge for me. I am not a great teacher for beginners and with him being nine it hard to think what tools would be safe for him to handle. Then I figured, what the heck, I’ll teach him to scroll saw and I found a project for kids in a magazine. Today we went out and bought some wood for it. Then I took him to the saw, showed him how it works and held his hands as we pushed the wood through the blade. I was happy that he had a bit of fear of the machine and was willing to let me do the hard parts (i.e. anything but the straight cuts). Even if I end up doing most of the work, I know that he’ll have received one of the few true gifts I have – my love of making things.

I don’t have much time to write tonight so I won’t be getting too deep – they’ve started the movie in the other room and I’ve already heard one call for “Andrew.” Guess I was expected to watch.

Juxtaposition – I love that word. Can’t really explain it, but I felt it tonight. We went out for pizza tonight. Sunday night is pizza night in our house. Normally, we have a healthy rice curst spinach pizza with light cheese, but we were talked into going out to the pizza parlor. The kids had a blast – we gave each a stack of quarters for the machines and their pick of drink from the soda fountain.

I guess I’ve never lost my security guard eye, because after a while I noticed a man outside acting odd. He was pulling a suitcase and had the sunburned, weathered look of a man living on the streets. The county hospital is just up the road from the restaurant and from time to time the mentally ill and indigent get discharged with nowhere to go and wander our streets until they can beg enough money to get a bus to other places. He was eying the place and ducked in when the staff wasn’t looking and started stealing food from the salad bar – quietly, unobtrusively but with the movements of a man not in full control of his mind.

What to do? He wasn’t hurting anyone and if the staff wasn’t paying attention, what business was it of mine?

The kids where happily running between us and the game machines and the man was eating cottage cheese off a menu while looking over his shoulder.

That’s when I did something. Out of my wallet I took a gift card for a hamburger place down the street and quietly walked over and sat down by the man. He glanced at me as I held out the card and said to him, “Here’s a meal for you.”

He took the card saying, “I am trying to eat.”

“I know, but here’s another meal for you.”  “Yeah, when, now?” he asked.

“Anytime you want,” I replied.

The man worried me as he looked over my shoulder at the kids and returned to his cottage cheese and said, “Anytime I want?”

“Anytime,” I said.

He got the message I was sending and left the restaurant shortly after I left him.

Mixed feelings. I gave a man a meal, but at the same time I was reacting to a perceived – possibly false – threat to those that the old guard in me felt the need to protect and I chased a needy man away from me.

Returning to the table, I encountered the joy of children showing the prizes they had won and excited over the announcement that Gran was going to take them to a movie this week.

Definition of the word juxtaposition – a lonely homeless mentally ill man steeling food in the mist of joyful, hopeful children eating their fill of pizza and soda surrounded by love.

Till next week,
Andrew

Posted in General, Hiking, Mother, Writing | Tagged camping, homeless, mother, spiritual, Tuolumne meadows, writing | 3 Comments

The Deck Post

Posted on 07/21/2013 by Andrew Reynolds

I am officially giving myself the week off from writing anything. Not even going to try. It’s time for a short creative vacation so instead I’ll share some pictures of my last building project – a deck for our back yard. This has been a fun project but a lot of heavy work. Dragging around 2X6 lumber isn’t as it easy use to be. Still, I’ve managed about five Saturdays on the project. Not bad for a middle-aged, out of shape writer. I figure I’ve got about three more Saturdays of work on this before I can put a grill up there and get some BBQ going to finish off what’s left of my health.

The deck posts

Putting the posts

The outdoor workshop

Fresh supply of lumber in the ‘shop’

Tools everywhere

Starting on putting down the joists

Rough framing in progress

Planter box under construction

Enough deck boards down to put up an umbrella.

Still have lumber to put down more decking.

First plant in the planter box

While I am recovering from all the heavy lifting, I’ll think of something new to write.

Till next week,

Andrew

Posted in General, woodworking | Tagged backyard deck, vacation, wooden deck, woodworking | 2 Comments

The Relay Post

Posted on 07/14/2013 by Andrew Reynolds

The last two Sundays I’ve written these poem like things and posted them for my weekly writing. I’ll admit I am not a very good poet but sometimes a bit of verse just springs out – unasked for and unplanned. I don’t craft a poem. I don’t spend hours thinking about the allusions, metaphor or meter. It just happens.

Sometimes they’re good and sometimes I delete them before showing anyone.

I wish I could give you a better insight into my creative process but it’s something I barely understand myself. There are parts I can explain and parts that happen without my knowing how it works. It’s part gift, part skill, and part discipline.

The gift was given to me by God. I’ve always assumed it was meant for me to use. There is just something in my thinking that bends differently than most. I can’t explain it.

The skill I build by doing and learning. I’ve studied language, woodworking, electronics, math, etc. These studies include schooling, reading, watching others and the occasional YouTube video. Then I take the time to do – I write, I build things in the shop and so on.

Then there is the discipline – do regularly. I’ve managed some discipline, writing in this blog every week – whether I want to or not. Something I’ve not managed with my woodworking.

There is a further piece to the creative puzzle: nurture the gift. I think Julia Cameron put it best in her book, “The Artist’s Way,” when she talks about, “breathing in.” This is a practice where you go out and do something that feeds your creative soul – go to an art gallery, to the beach, take a hike or whatever it is that helps replenish and rest your creative self. Heather and I find hiking to be this kind of breathing in.

We haven’t been hiking much – life’s gotten too busy at the moment and it affects everything.

But yesterday I did something that didn’t exactly feed the soul but it got me thinking about new stuff.

Heather joined a Relay for Life team. This is a fund-raiser for the American Cancer Society and the idea is that each team has at least one person walking around a track for 24 hours. They take it in 1 hour shifts and Heather had signed up for 2 different times.

Being somewhat involved with cancer myself, I figured what the heck, I’ll walk with her.

For the record and just in case you aren’t one of the three hundred people I’ve told already – my feet hurt.

There were two parts of the festivities that I found very moving – the opening ceremony with the ‘survivor’s lap’ and the evening luminary lighting.

The opening was a typical event opening, a flag, the mayor, a few speeches, and then the first lap to start the walking. During this lap, any cancer survivor and their caregiver is invited to take to the track and walk once around – kind of a victory lap. It was amazing to see the number of people who have been touched by cancer and are still alive. It is clear evidence that we are making progress in curing the illness.

I did, reluctantly I’ll admit, take to the track and take my lap with Heather – my special caregiver. It’s been only 18 months since my treatment ended and despite the fact that I am still alive I don’t feel much like a survivor. I can’t say exactly why. Part is fear that the prostate cancer could reoccur. Part is that my treatment was so easy to do compared to what others have suffered. Part is that it is now becoming a distant memory and I’ve almost returned to my old self (expect for one or two new doctors I get to talk to regularly).

The luminary lighting was very special. Before the event all the teams made luminaries commemorating a loved one who died from cancer or to honor and support someone currently suffering with cancer. I had made one for my mother, Heather for three members of her family. These luminaries were placed around the track with candles in them to light the track for the night-time walkers and as a memorial to those we’ve lost and to support those with the disease.

In the bleachers around the track they placed luminaries to spell three words: life, hope, cure. The last part of the luminary ceremony is the lighting of these candles. A group of caregivers was invited to come up and start lighting. The way the stage was arranged had these people enter the bleachers just to the left of the word, ‘life’ so most started lighting that. Some caregivers, realizing that there were a lot of people working on ‘life’ moved over to the next word, ‘hope’ and starting light it. A lone person wandered over to ‘cure’ and started light it candle by candle.

As the darkness fell, ‘Life’ lit up first followed by ‘hope’

My eye followed the lone man lighting the ‘cure.’ My heart ached for him – working alone on the most important word to me. While life and hope burned bright, the cure barely flickered.

Then, slowly, as life was lit and hope was nearly complete, others started working on the cure. As they moved to the work the cure suddenly burned bright.

There’s a poem in there someplace, but it’s not found form in my mind.

Till next week,
Andrew