Nov 14 2008
Why Didn’t I Become a Wood Butcher?
Why Didn’t I Become a “Wood Butcher” (Carpenter)?
My Father was a carpenter from the time I was two and one-half years old. I know that because he told me over and over again that he marked that occupation from the date of my sister’s birth.
Many years later, I had joined the Navy and my Father knew that I was in “administration” and “personnel office” work. When I was home visiting he liked to say that his daughter was the next carpenter in the family. “My son the secretary and my daughter the carpenter.” That’s the way it was.
In fact, I have really poor spacial perception and cannot, for the life of me, visualize how something should look or should be put together. I have no mechanical ability at all. It’s like being blind in one eye and not being able to see out of the other. Plus, I’m not a good “measurer.”
Now, my sister on the other hand, cut down her own Ponderosa pine trees, peeled off the bark, laid them out, turned them over (one-quarter turn every week FOR A YEAR), and then constructed her own log cabin. For reals, folks. And it is beautiful. (If you click on the photo a large-size view will open.)
So I am not ashamed (well maybe a little bit) to admit that she turned out to be the family carpenter. I am sitting here typing away….right now…the family secretary, still.
Gotta live within your limitations, correct?
Tomorrow: Why Didn’t I Think Before I Acted?
Yesterday: Why Didn’t I Complain of Age Discrimination?
