The Old Man's Reaction...

I was thinking this morning about how my old man would have reacted to the current rebuilding of my tool cabinet. Here is how I think that conversation would have played out...

Old Man: What the hell do you think you're doing?

Son: Nothing. Why?

Old Man: Because it looks more like you are building furniture, that's why.

Son: Come on, pop. I'm just making a display for my tools that I can enjoy looking at and still be able to use them. 

Old Man: What the hell are you talking about? Tools are only made to be used, not looked at. What the hell do you think they are, artwork? 

Son: Well, pop, they may have been made to work with, but that doesn't mean their designs shouldn't be appreciated. Some of them are really quite beautiful in their own right; like little sculptures. 

Old Man: Awe, bullshit! Do you ever listen to yourself when you talk that artsy-fartsy stuff? If you have to do this kind of pamby-assed thing, just bang a few nails in the back of the cabinet and hang the bloody tools on them. Stop making such a big deal out of nothing, for Christ's sake. 

Son: The cabinet sits in my office, remember, not the basement. I don't want to look at something like that all the time. I want it to look good. 

Old Man: Well if you spent more time working and less time looking, you might actually accomplish something.

Son: I'm retired, pop, remember? 

Old Man: Your too young for that nonsense, but ok, you want to sissify a bunch of tools; I can live with that, but do you have to spend so God-damned much money to do it? Walnut costs a bloody fortune. 

Son: It isn't sissified, pop. I just see things differently than you, thats all. And as far as building it out of walnut, I chose it because I know it was your favourite wood. The whole thing is sort of a tribute to you, if you must know. 

Old Man: Tribute - Schmidute. If you want to build something for me out of an expensive wood like walnut, build me a damned coffee table!

And with that, folks, he would have turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving me standing there shaking my head in wonderment. As he stormed away, though, I know he would have been wearing a grin from ear to bloody ear, the grumpy, old codger.

Peace,

Mitchell