RyanW
Moderator
- Joined
- Jul 17, 2009
- Messages
- 3,327
Thanks for doing this! It is funny I posted this earlier today.
My Grandfather William Weeks grew up with 8 brothers he was #6. He was raised in a small town built up by Oil Drilling. He made a living with his hands in the dirt, he built his family home at the age of 20. Was a cattle rancher, sheep shearer, mechanic, Cafe/Bar Owner (Bouncer) and many other "Blue Collar" abilities. He was not highly educated, but was one of the smartest men I have ever met. He loved to Hunt, Fish, Box (Semi-Professionally), and collected everything. He was the guy with the yard full of "Junk" that all the neighbors hated until they needed something fixed.
I had a close connection with him, we lived 3 hrs. drive away. When we would go visit he and I would disappear into one of the many side buildings in his yard, and start digging through the treasure. When I would find something of interest to me, I would say: "How much for this Grandpa?" his reply was always the same "I plan on using that, besides you couldn't afford it" then he would chuckle. Nothing ever came home with me (to my parents delight), but I looked forward to the day he actually made a trade with me.
In his declining years he was active in his mind but unable to get out and do the things he loved, the years of hard work had taken its toll on his body. He was living in the Home he built for the family. Now 70 years had passed and the house was in need of serious repair. I had recently earned my Journeyman's license, so that I could save money on plumbing repairs on Family owned rental properties. I spent 2 weeks remodeling his Bathroom and Kitchen, every minute he sat watching me use new and amazing tools (in his mind) Sawzalls, phillips head screws put in with a cordless drill, pex tubing instead of copper or galvanized (he was adamantly against this new technology). At the end of each day he would say: "Ryan you don't know how easy you have it, I was born too soon!" But the reality was, he would not be happy in these days or times. He didn't know kids couldn't take pocket knives to school, what it took to get a Deer, Elk or Antelope hunting tag.... the list goes on.
Fast forward through health problems and bone injuries. We were unable to convince him into moving from "his" town to live with us in the city. Eventually we were able to move him into a nursing home where a friend of the family was a nurse. When I would visit he and I would still talk trades, I would be sure to bring something that would interest him, a knife, tool, etc... He passed away in the nursing home, his mind still active and alert.
I came to realize that on those days he and I would rummage through his buildings of stuff, and I would leave empty handed. I left with much more, a relationship with my Grandpa Willie. An experience that exposed me to guns, knives, hunting, and hard work that left hands dirty and sore... I was born too late.
The makers mark I use is actually the cattle brand registered to my grandfather, Every knife I make is a tribute the man he was, and the life he lived.
My Grandfather William Weeks grew up with 8 brothers he was #6. He was raised in a small town built up by Oil Drilling. He made a living with his hands in the dirt, he built his family home at the age of 20. Was a cattle rancher, sheep shearer, mechanic, Cafe/Bar Owner (Bouncer) and many other "Blue Collar" abilities. He was not highly educated, but was one of the smartest men I have ever met. He loved to Hunt, Fish, Box (Semi-Professionally), and collected everything. He was the guy with the yard full of "Junk" that all the neighbors hated until they needed something fixed.
I had a close connection with him, we lived 3 hrs. drive away. When we would go visit he and I would disappear into one of the many side buildings in his yard, and start digging through the treasure. When I would find something of interest to me, I would say: "How much for this Grandpa?" his reply was always the same "I plan on using that, besides you couldn't afford it" then he would chuckle. Nothing ever came home with me (to my parents delight), but I looked forward to the day he actually made a trade with me.
In his declining years he was active in his mind but unable to get out and do the things he loved, the years of hard work had taken its toll on his body. He was living in the Home he built for the family. Now 70 years had passed and the house was in need of serious repair. I had recently earned my Journeyman's license, so that I could save money on plumbing repairs on Family owned rental properties. I spent 2 weeks remodeling his Bathroom and Kitchen, every minute he sat watching me use new and amazing tools (in his mind) Sawzalls, phillips head screws put in with a cordless drill, pex tubing instead of copper or galvanized (he was adamantly against this new technology). At the end of each day he would say: "Ryan you don't know how easy you have it, I was born too soon!" But the reality was, he would not be happy in these days or times. He didn't know kids couldn't take pocket knives to school, what it took to get a Deer, Elk or Antelope hunting tag.... the list goes on.
Fast forward through health problems and bone injuries. We were unable to convince him into moving from "his" town to live with us in the city. Eventually we were able to move him into a nursing home where a friend of the family was a nurse. When I would visit he and I would still talk trades, I would be sure to bring something that would interest him, a knife, tool, etc... He passed away in the nursing home, his mind still active and alert.
I came to realize that on those days he and I would rummage through his buildings of stuff, and I would leave empty handed. I left with much more, a relationship with my Grandpa Willie. An experience that exposed me to guns, knives, hunting, and hard work that left hands dirty and sore... I was born too late.
The makers mark I use is actually the cattle brand registered to my grandfather, Every knife I make is a tribute the man he was, and the life he lived.
