After Dad died, my sister and I spent an afternoon in his workshop, taking pictures and remembering him. My mom had told us that we could each choose a few small things to take home with us. After a lot of consideration, I'd selected a pair of calipers, a spool of waxed thread...and a large awl with a beautiful wood handle.
The calipers and thread came home in my carry-on, but I didn't think the TSA would look kindly on the awl. Since I wasn't willing to risk confiscation, I had my Mom mail it to me later. It arrived safe and sound, and I tucked it away in my studio. I didn't know when I'd have the occasion to use an awl that size, but I wanted to have it close at hand.
As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long.
The very next day, Seth was installing a new-to-me cabinet in my studio.
He asked if I had an awl, and I said, "Yes, I do."
"Not a dinky little tack making awl," he clarified. "I need something bigger than that."
"I know," I said, as I handed him Dad's awl.
He took it in his hands and gave it a long, admiring look. "Where did we get this?" he asked.
"It was Dad's," I told him.
He looked at it again and said, "Tom has nice tools."
Yes. Yes, he does.