My father passed away a few weeks ago and though it has of course been very much on my mind, I was uncertain about mentioning it in this space. That whole public/private thing. But…things change, or fall into place, and I know now exactly how it fits.
On a recent visit my aunt gave me a lovely carved wooden scoop made by my father many years ago. They used it to scoop feed for their sheep over 20 years ago, and since they no longer have sheep, and we now have feed scooping needs of our own, she decided to pass it on. Not, of course, that the usefulness of the scoop was the main reason – sometimes things are more than things (oh so eloquently put!) and I’m sure my father’s sister knows this, just as my father did. And as I do. My father was a “maker of things”, a true craftsman, and it is this aspect of him that I find most accessible, or that resonates with me, for what I hope are fairly obvious reasons.
So now that this beautifully crafted scoop has come to us, it will be used daily. A piece of craftsmanship that, even without embellishment, somehow manages to elevate a basic chore. (This is what it’s all about, really, for craftspeople, whether we know it or not, or whether we think poetically on it or just get the job done. ) And I’m pretty sure Dad would be pleased.