- Joined
- Mar 14, 2013
- Messages
- 443
My mother in law has Alzheimers and pretty much doesn't recognize anybody any more, but that doesn't matter to anybody here, I mention it only to say I know what it's like to deal with.
My father, OTOH... he passed away a few years ago (cancer, his mind was sharp up to the end). He wasn't a metalworker, woodworking and R/C modeling was his thing, but he sure was a tool junkie. When he died (he was always clear that "everything in the shop" should go to me), I filled the largest U-Haul trailer available with all the stuff in his shop. Lots of the stuff was like old friends, tools I used and remember from my childhood, some were replacements he bought for older tools that he gave me before he died (I think he did that a lot, replace a perfectly good drill or saw just so he could give me the old one), and some stuff was just oddball, stuff he saw somewhere and just bought because it looked cool. And lots of parts, nuts and bolts, and unfinished projects.
Now I work in my shop, and some days I feel like he's still there with me when I pick up one of his tools. But I sometimes wish I could ask him, "Hey Dad, what did you have in mind here?" or "What were you going to use this for?"
My father, OTOH... he passed away a few years ago (cancer, his mind was sharp up to the end). He wasn't a metalworker, woodworking and R/C modeling was his thing, but he sure was a tool junkie. When he died (he was always clear that "everything in the shop" should go to me), I filled the largest U-Haul trailer available with all the stuff in his shop. Lots of the stuff was like old friends, tools I used and remember from my childhood, some were replacements he bought for older tools that he gave me before he died (I think he did that a lot, replace a perfectly good drill or saw just so he could give me the old one), and some stuff was just oddball, stuff he saw somewhere and just bought because it looked cool. And lots of parts, nuts and bolts, and unfinished projects.
Now I work in my shop, and some days I feel like he's still there with me when I pick up one of his tools. But I sometimes wish I could ask him, "Hey Dad, what did you have in mind here?" or "What were you going to use this for?"