When I first posted my bio, I was quite green (still am) and didn't
have a full grasp of what I should include. As a result, it was short
on several fronts. Since then, I've learned a bit more about my
family and myself and would like to share a quick story or two to go
along with it.
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My maternal and paternal families are both based in Cherryvale,
Kansas. (Extreme southeast KS, Jeff.) Neither come from any extensive
line of craftsmen, per sé, but my maternal grandfather is extremely
ingenious in a galootish way and my biological father is a real
DIY'er, in a just-get-it-done sort of way. (I never knew my paternal
grandfather.)
I was raised by my mother and stepfather, who although isn't handy
one iota, taught me that people judge you by the work you do. He
comes from a line of loggers here in the south. We moved to Arkansas
when I was the ripe age of 11 after my dad (stepfather, Jeff) took a
new job. I grew up here, graduated high school and attended state
college for a few years before taking an entry-level job as an
advertising designer at a local publishing house. About that time, I
met and married my wife, Alana, (1997) and we had our daughter, Erin,
shortly thereafter. After discovering that it was tough to support a
family on a designer's wage, I managed to make the switch into
computers where I have been for the last 7+ years.
Home ownership has bloomed my interest in tinkering, woodworking and
galootish ways. Although I've always considered myself an artist
first, my profession in computers indirectly helped me discover an
untapped passion for tools and working with my hands. It is this
pursuit which has given me a renewed respect for the men in my family
and made me want to discover more about them.
While visiting family early this spring, I updated my grandfather on
how my shop was shaping up and showed him some of the old tools I
picked up that week. He seemed amused and pleased at my interest in
such things. We had a nice talk and that was it for the most part.
However, later that evening, Grandpa pulled something out of a drawer
near his chair.
He showed me a stainless steel ring and explained that it was forged
by hand by his long-passed cousin, named Fred Gilliland. (No, not the
criminal by the same name.)
http://workshop.tjmahaffey.com/workshop/img/tmp/ring1.jpg
http://workshop.tjmahaffey.com/workshop/img/tmp/ring2.jpg
http://workshop.tjmahaffey.com/workshop/img/tmp/ring3.jpg
Apparently, Fred was a Navy blacksmith or pattern maker. I sat there
listening intently, enthralled by just the kind of story I had hoped
to find in my lineage. Sure, he was just my grandpa's cousin, but
I'll take it, nonetheless. Grandpa said that after he finished in the
Navy, Fred settled nearby and shoed horses.
When grandpa finished his story about the ring, I handed it back to
him. "Nah", he told me to keep it. My eyes widened and my pulse
raced. "Are you sure?", I asked. He said, "Of course. I've no use for
it." I've been glowing ever since.
I think Fred had fatter fingers than I, so I have to wear it on my
index finger for a good fit. I'm not really a ring kind of guy, to be
honest, but I wear it proudly, often when I'm rust hunting.
As I said, my grandpa is an ingenious man. In reflecting on his
handy ways, I realize that I don't think he ever owned more than two
tailed tools, a drill and a circular saw, if that. The rest were
yankee screwdrivers, a hack saw or two and the like. He was the first
person I ever saw cut the side out of a plastic oil bottle to create
a drawer for his screws.
As you would see from a scan of my grandparents' modest single-wide
trailer (we call them trailers in Kansas, not "mobile homes"), their
second on the same lot, my grandpa is a galoot of convenience. His
efforts are focussed on two primary goals: 1) making things more
convenient for him in his daily routine and 2) recycling household
items to suit goal number 1.
For example, my grandparents have two stamped steel rocking chairs
outside, which they use to enjoy the mild Kansas evenings, while the
cicadas buzz at dusk. Grandpa didn't like sitting his iced milk out
of reach, so he cleaned an old tuna can and screwed it right to the
arm rail of his outdoor rocker. This gave him a perfect cup holder.
Years of my grandmother babysitting everyone's children spawned our
family's favorite household gizmo. The kids would always be in and
out the old trailer door, releasing precious cool air. So, a couple
of scrounged pulleys, rope and a shampoo bottle full of sand later
and the door closed all on its own. Grandpa would rather spend time
rigging this up than buying a closer off the shelf from Wal-Mart for
$10. And so would I.
The only "projects" grandpa ever made of wood were built before I
was born and still serve he and my grandma today, over 32 years
later. A small desk with drawers, a couple of shelves and a
television cabinet. In fact, he says that some of the wood for that
stand came from a table upon which Eisenhower had coffee once in
WWII. (Grandpa was an Air Force engineer and helped build air strips,
also serving in Korea.) I love that story. To further solidify his
place in the Halls of Galootdom, I'll mention that that cabinet and
shelves have been cut down and modified countless times as his chair
and living room arrangement tastes have changed over the decades.
Thanks to everyone for taking a moment to listen to my story here on
the porch.
I'll sit down now and get back to listening more than I speak.
--
T.J. Mahaffey
tj@t...
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