A Mighty Carpenter

Our Dad Tony was a Macher, a doer, Macher more in the typical German than the Yiddish use of the word. Dad’s enormous energy was not exhausted by long weeks as a physician, so he put it to use around the house. We painted our own home, inside and out, built our own fences, made bookcases, and so on. Over the years, Dad trained his children in these arts as they grew old enough to participate.

Dad came to his carpentry skills growing up Mennonite. Every man in a Mennonite village was a carpenter, so to speak. His father, at right in the photo, spent part of his professional life as a carpenter, and built his own home in Portland, so Dad learned from the best.

At Dad and Mom’s 50th wedding anniversary celebration we sang songs about them. Craig and I wrote one specifically for Dad, entitled A Mighty Carpenter, which we sang to the tune of Luther’s great hymn, A Mighty Fortress.

A Mighty Carpenter

A mighty carpenter is our Dad; he has a leather nail sack.
His chalk line’s only off a tad; just hammer modulate it back.
He stands on level ground, he cuts his corners round,
He’s structurally sound, Prometheus unbound.
He has a lot of power tools.

A mighty carpenter our Dad be; stands strong midst mounts of woodchips.
He’ll get the project done finally, if he can find his drill bits.
The footings he will dig, he never jury-rigs,
He rigs a mighty jig, his table saw is big.
A board store ne’er unvanquished.

A miter saw man our Dad am; his blades are sharp and shiny.
He always frames a square door jamb; he uses oak and piney.
To dado children’s toys, a router he employs;
It makes a lot of noise, it makes a lot of noise!
He measures once and cuts it twice.
 

Dad was usually in a hurry; his large body of carpentry knowledge was not always well-deployed. Sometimes Mom would resist his desire to do more refined work in the house, because often it came out looking, well … rushed. As adults, we often worked with Dad on one project or another, at his house, or more often, at our own homes, where Dad would assist. We found that part of our job was to gently rein Dad in, to take advantage of his drive and especially his knowledge, without hurrying the project.

One of my favorite memories of Dad was when he helped me build a raised deck in the back of Cindy’s and my first home. One evening after work, the deck mostly completed, I was trying to add the two staircases and could not bring myself to make the first cuts into the 2×12 stringers, the structural support for the steps and risers. If I cut the wrong size / angle I could ruin an entire expensive board. I had spent an hour walking in circles, not willing to make the first cut until I was sure. The doorbell rang, and there was Dad in his doctor clothes, dropping by to help. He grabbed the roofing square, made some quick measurements, reassured me with explanations, and while I cringed, he unhesitatingly cut out the first step 2 slots. A few checks made it clear that the cuts were perfect, and we used the pattern to cut out the remainder of the 7 steps in the stringers and assembled the staircase within a couple of hours. Wow!

Never short of energy, Dad said let’s do the 2nd staircase, which was a short 3 steps. He grabbed the pattern from the first staircase, made the first cuts, and after a few checks it was clear that the cuts were wrong! The second staircase had a different rise over run, and Dad didn’t check. I was already ecstatic over the success with the larger staircase and wasn’t paying attention. Dad was upset with himself and kept apologizing. He thought a few minutes and figured out a way to repair the cut he had made, salvaging the stringer, and together we figured out the correct cuts, and finished the second staircase without incident. The mistake was only noticeable to the carpenter who had made the error, but for years afterwards, when Dad visited, he would point out the repair and apologize!

And there, in one evening’s work, was Dad, the carpenter. His generosity brought him over unannounced to help. His drive cut through the procrastination and his knowledge and confidence allowed us to build the first staircase correctly. For the second staircase, his rush produced an error, but using his deep knowledge of carpentry, he quickly produced a solution to the error, and with me resuming the role of a mild governor, we finished the job.

Dad, ever the Macher, continued to do until the string ran out. Dad helped Cindy and I remodel our current home, his last set of projects, which we started when Dad was 85. He could still lift boards, and his carpentry knowledge was as always invaluable. Together, we re-floored the first story with hardwood, extended and resurfaced decks front and back, built cabinets, and so on. He helped me on and off until the last few years of his life, at that point limited to sitting in a chair, watching me, sometimes offering advice, and not happy with the fact that he couldn’t help more!