Joe Abbott's Weblog

Letters home to mom

  • Stuff posted on these days

    February 2014
    M T W T F S S
    « Jan   Mar »
     12
    3456789
    10111213141516
    17181920212223
    2425262728  
  • Meta

  • Joe Abbott Musings

  • RSS Cat Cartoon w/o the Cartoon

    • Coda
      Posting these cat-cartoons-without-the-cartoon was a long journey that I don’t know if I’ll repeat soon again. A daily blog is tough … even when you have your material handed to you! But, I couldn’t have done it without the artwork … Continue reading →
    • December 31, 2011
      Father Time is riding out his last few minutes of being the temporal keeper for 2011; he sits in an easy chair with a calendar showing “Dec 31” behind him and a grandfather clock pointing to the time of 11:53. … Continue reading →
    • December 30, 2011
      A happy young lady shares a table at a tony restaurant with her cat; they both wear festive, cone-shaped party hats. The woman gaily says to the tuxedoed server, “One martini and one glass of milk.” The cat does not … Continue reading →

Talking aloud

Posted by joeabbott on February 15, 2014

My mind is heavy with thoughts. Those who follow this blog for commentary on video games or woodworking will find nothing here of interest; this post is being made to clear my head and find some peace in talking aloud.

My first step in cleaning up my workshop space was to address the large, rolling tool chest that’s stood in the corner for over a decade. My brother John’s tools are stored there and I’ve kept them at my house since his death in 1993. John had been an autobody mechanic and enjoyed quality tools; I always thought I would clean them up and make them available to a struggling autobody mechanic … a young kid trying to make it in that field and needing tools: perhaps with a small boost from me … from John and me … it could make a difference in a young kid’s life.

It’s been a long time since I’ve thought those thoughts, however, and I now intend on cleaning up the chest, tidying the tools, incorporating what I own with them, and using the tool chest as part of my workshop. There’s not a lot of crossover between woodworking, my craft, and autobody, but I’ll always need wrenches and drills, and a hammer now and then is required in all shops; I’ll use these tools more for home maintenance and repair than building furniture. But, my mind is settled and I’m laying claim.

As I approached the tools today I fell into the same routine I always do when I open that chest: I look over the many items that were John’s, I find something that triggers emotion … today it was finding an old checking account application that listed our childhood home address on it … and my thoughts walk hallowed ground to our younger days, past never-realized hopes and dreams, and then to a life that ended too soon. And so I find myself, much later, still fingering sockets, wondering what the various implements are used for, and then looking in another drawer at another something.

It’s all very draining.

While I got farther today than I have any other time I’ve approached that tool chest, nothing has really changed. Everything remains as it was, but my mind is now set and I just need to find a way to overcome the inertia, break through the surface tension in my mind that keeps me from actually doing something with the tools, and then making it mine.

Suzy came home from class to find me sleeping. It was a restless sleep and I got up and we sat and talked; I’m sure she knows this talk as I’ve attempted going through those tools before. She suggested that I take pictures of everything before I make any changes. Preserve what is so that I can revisit it later, should I wish. And that’s a very good suggestion. One I will take.

My mind is heavy but less heavy; my heart less sad. I have a lot to think about but less now than I had before. Less now than before I started talking aloud.

Advertisements

One Response to “Talking aloud”

  1. Momma said

    I want to leave a comment here, but can’t think of anything to say. So I’ll just sit here with you for a while, Joe, and just be a witness to your deep sorrow. Momma

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: