Why, after years of not remembering him, suddenly in the middle of class, looking at a website about fine woodworking, did my grandfather come to mind?
I don't have a rich stock of family memories I can call up when I want to think about the people in my family tree. Perhaps I wasn't paying attention. The upshot is that so many of the details of my grandfather's life in Scotland and with us here in America are lost to me. But there he was before me, not as the skinny guy with the shock of white hair, big red nose, tweeds, pipe, and amused smile, but as the maker of the coffee table that I've put my coffee down on so many times at my mum's house.
He was an excellent woodworker, as his work shows. Sturdy, elegant, smooth as silk is this elegant table. I do remember him working on it in our basement. Step by step, he cut the pieces, shaped and sanded them, assembled them, then finished the work with layer after layer of varnish. It was his gift to us, and it's still the pride of his daughter.
What a man! Originally surnamed Joel, he took the name of his tools, Redman, when he went to work in the same factory as his brother. He fought in the first world war in East Africa (am I right about that?) and was (certainly) a pacifist in the second. He raised four admirable children on a modest wage in a tough section of old Glasgow. A passionate reader, he was ever, I remember this clearly, ready to discuss books, especially of history, and all matters of life.
Generous to me, to all your grandchildren, I think I never thanked you enough. You and Granny were the age then that we are now--the age of still living out your lives (something I never really appreciated about you two) while doting your grandchildren (as we do ours).
Why then did I feel this pang today, Bert (as Granny used to call you)? Was it the image of worked wood, and the love you lavished on it?
As I write this, memories long inactive have stirred. It may be that more will arise. Be it so. For the nonce, I am so happy to enjoy your presence again. It's often been said I take after you. If true, I feel it's an honor.
I don't have a rich stock of family memories I can call up when I want to think about the people in my family tree. Perhaps I wasn't paying attention. The upshot is that so many of the details of my grandfather's life in Scotland and with us here in America are lost to me. But there he was before me, not as the skinny guy with the shock of white hair, big red nose, tweeds, pipe, and amused smile, but as the maker of the coffee table that I've put my coffee down on so many times at my mum's house.
He was an excellent woodworker, as his work shows. Sturdy, elegant, smooth as silk is this elegant table. I do remember him working on it in our basement. Step by step, he cut the pieces, shaped and sanded them, assembled them, then finished the work with layer after layer of varnish. It was his gift to us, and it's still the pride of his daughter.
What a man! Originally surnamed Joel, he took the name of his tools, Redman, when he went to work in the same factory as his brother. He fought in the first world war in East Africa (am I right about that?) and was (certainly) a pacifist in the second. He raised four admirable children on a modest wage in a tough section of old Glasgow. A passionate reader, he was ever, I remember this clearly, ready to discuss books, especially of history, and all matters of life.
Generous to me, to all your grandchildren, I think I never thanked you enough. You and Granny were the age then that we are now--the age of still living out your lives (something I never really appreciated about you two) while doting your grandchildren (as we do ours).
Why then did I feel this pang today, Bert (as Granny used to call you)? Was it the image of worked wood, and the love you lavished on it?
As I write this, memories long inactive have stirred. It may be that more will arise. Be it so. For the nonce, I am so happy to enjoy your presence again. It's often been said I take after you. If true, I feel it's an honor.
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