Working With Your Hands
When I was younger, I really had no use for doing any sort of crafty type of work. Re-finish a chair? No way. Build a deck? There are people you hire to do that. Put in a marble floor? Too easy to f**k up.
Then somewhere along the way I decided to actually try doing some of this stuff, and I discovered that when I shed my pampered shell, I was actually pretty damn good at it. I just finished re-doing a bathroom entirely in tile (natural stone, I won't work with that fake ceramic shit). The floors and all the walls, everything. Well, except plumbing. That's something I'll learn later. And the electrical work. That's something I stay away from. It feels good to create something beautiful from something ordinary.
Anyway, I was thinking back to my youthful arrogance. That happens from time to time, especially after a conversation with Chase. I eschewed any of those manual, crafty tasks, asserting that my mind was too powerful and nimble to be wasted on such mundane projects, and subconsiously thinking that my hands were too uncoordinated to do anything right. Well, not anything, but this isn't a blog about beating off or hand jobs.
I had an uncle who was a self-taught carpenter. It wasn't his job, it was his hobby. He created some amazing things. I remember in particular a staircase banister he built. It was beautiful, so perfectly crafted. He was patient, a good teacher, yet I never took the time to learn from him. Now he is dead, and I think about him every time I turn on my power sander, wishing I'd put my pompous, arrogant attitude aside and spent a few days as his apprentice.
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