It all came back to me, reading Bill Hudson’s editorial this past Tuesday… my wood shop classes, quite some time ago, in school.
Good memories of gluing pieces of wood together, putting clamps on them while the glue was drying, and then getting the combined layers of wood on the lathe.
That was one, big, impressive machine. I remember the sound of its motor, and holding the chisel-like tool steady enough, as the wood was turning, to fashion a bowl out of those several layers of wood. Under the watchful eye of our wood shop teacher, Mr. Cooper, my classmates and I were gaining woodworking skills.
And after shaping that wood into what was gradually becoming a bowl, I can remember using various other tools, and sandpaper, to make it ready for the first layer of shellac, I think that’s what it was…shellac. And after that, getting my bowl all shined up, and ready, to bring home.
My folks proudly displayed it, in the dining room.
Building things from scratch, that’s what my classmates and I were given the opportunity to do, in wood shop class.
And I still recall some of the words in our yearbook, one year, honoring our teacher… Sometimes, we’ve all probably imagined Mr. Cooper picking up a school bus in his hands.
He was a strong, soft-spoken, thoughtful educator.