I have come to a realization of late.
I am not a process person.
I don’t like rehearsals I like performing. I don’t like cooking I like eating. I don’t like sanding and priming I like presenting the finished product.
So, although I know “life is about the journey” I seem to be all about the hotel and the pool.
My father is a process person. Meticulous. Careful. Everything he does is well planned and beautifully executed.
He is awesome but our conflicting styles led to some, um, conflicts when I was younger.
My advice to any 8 year old boys reading this is to NEVER make a model of your favorite spaceship with this man.
It will come out great but you will lose your mind as he carefully organizes all the parts, sands any minor imperfections, contemplates the paint job and works out how to reinforce the weak spots.
He wanted to create something beautiful. I just wanted to play with it and, lets be honest, eventually blow it up*.
Not a lot has changed.
I’m running around like a loon trying to finish twelve projects at once, never truly satisfied with any of them, making mistakes because I won’t slow down and my dad is creating this:
My folks moved to a retirement community and, upon arrival, my industrious father immediately gathered like minded citizens and started a woodworking shop/club. Along with doing their own projects they repair furniture for the residents and other shop-related activities.
Dad recently decided that the lazy susans that sat in the center of each table in the dining room were both inefficient and too small and set about to correct the situation.
You can see the result. That’s separate segments of ¼” birch stained and then applied almost seamlessly to a base and framed out with molding.
Dad apparently also felt that Central Ohio needed a little continental flair and the wording (which you can’t see clearly) is in German as follows:
The salt and pepper holder is “Das Salz und Pfeffen”, sweeteners is “Die SuBungsmittel”, and the comment sheets “Achtung! Kommentar Bogen Hier”.
His next susan (they will all be different) speaks French and looks like this:
My dad had a great story about trying to glue down the veneers on this one and every time he’d start a new section the previous section would curl up and he kept running back and forth like a Marx Brother trying to get them all stuck down.
Now, all this is well and good. Yea for dad and his industrious, talented self!
However, my father makes me angry.
First off, he’s approaching 90 and he clearly has more energy and creativity in his little finger than I have in my whole body.
Second, there’s that patience thing that I never mastered.
Third, he had cataract surgery recently and, despite having worn glasses since he was an embryo he now has 20/20 vision.
And finally, he still has a full head of hair! And he’s not even using it! – it just sitting up there in a crew cut….mocking me.
* I did not blow up the model and am very, very grateful that he took the time to do it right and that I have such a great memento of my childhood.