Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Day 1, 12/14/09

Even in the simple action of opening the door a rush of memories filled my brain. Before I was even in the shop I can fully recall the person who was my Grandfather. Can you remember a time where you return to a once familiar place and have to stop to allow the memories and thoughts to completely move through you? You literally stop and take everything in. Not like entering your kitchen at home where you allow yourself to be moved by necessity and routine. I see my papaw. I see a little blond-haired boy shadowing him. Much of my time as a child was spent in my grandfather's garage although it was not by my desire, as someone had to watch me during the summer and that someone put me to work. To be in this place was not to resurrect the person but to see and understand him a little more. After all I am only here to build a boat. A skin-on-frame kayak to be exact and my grandfathers workshop contained the tools and the space necessary to build such a craft. I took this afternoon to inventory and locate tools. I soon realized that in order to do this I would need to clean and organize. As I began, I moved through layers of dust and wood to find little pieces of my papaw. Brushing through the sawdust I find a spokeshave, then a plane, then a sliding bevel, and so on. Then I found something that I had not intended to and I froze. On my grandfather's workbench were the letters "NPD" carved in the wood. Perhaps it was his handwriting, perhaps it was recalling his full name, or even just a reminder of his character, but it was a recollection of my papaw that moved me to tears. I ran my hands over the carefully carved letters almost hearing his voice, "Norman Perry Downs". Silence. I am building this boat alone, drawing on what little personal experience I can, wishing my grandfather was here to help. But with each sweep of the plane and pull of the draw knife I am continuing something greater than just myself. I know he would be proud. The entries that follow are a journal of progress, list of lessons learned, photo album, and recollection of memories. Please enjoy and comment if you wish.

5 comments:

  1. I couldn't have written anything better. This is great Matthew!

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  2. Oh,my goodness, how I wish that I could put words to my feelings as well as you do! God bless you, my son, you are right, Pappaw would be proud; and I think he is watching you from his new home in Heaven.

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  3. I can assure you, he is proud. I am proud! You are a good man. He not only carved the image of his initials on the workbench, he carved them on your heart. Your heart now holds the imprint of his wisdom and love that he gave to you, that you will draw upon again and again--words you will someday no doubt quote to your son. Your Dad

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  4. Matthew,

    I cannot wait to read more. You have already written such a tribute, but I know even more tidbits of love are to come with each statement you write. What a blessing this is to Margaret. You know we love you!

    Aunt Nancy
    (P.S. I did not recognize you from that photo!I have one of Uncle Eddie that looks just like it.)

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  5. I have been moved to tears reading this, as I'm sure anyone who knew Norman or knows you will be. And what a tribute to carry on this part of him...He would most definitely be proud.

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