My Dad wrote: “I’ve spent the afternoon sanding Uncle Alvin Howard’s workbench. My great aunt, Laura Hayward Howard, bought the bench in 1936 from Hammacher Schlemmer in New York, and then gave it to Uncle Alvin for Christmas.
Uncle Alvin quickly let on as how he wasn’t about to take up woodworking, and planned to give the workbench promptly to the local boys’ home.
Then Nana caught wind and talked him out of giving it away, saying that she had three rambunctious boys at home who could make good use of it. Both the three boys and their mother did, indeed, use it like crazy. Fifteen years ago, Dad wrote “whatever I know about woodworking tools, I learned at that workbench, sixty and more years ago. Mother is gone now, and I’ve always wanted to repair and restore it. Jeanne and Adam will be coming with a pickup truck in the morning. I’m flying out of Pass Christian on Tuesday afternoon to Atlanta, and then driving to Charlotte Wednesday morning.”
And so he did.
I can’t quite tell whether or not he ever got around to restoring it (the Pardue family wasn’t the hoity toity type), but I can definitely say that he used the workbench handily in his architecture office for quite a few years until he died in 2013. It’s now mine, and though I’m nothing close to a woodworker, I love it like crazy. Many thanks to Alvin, Laura, Nana, and Dad for always sharing their stories, and Jeanne and Adam, who I don’t think I knew, for making it happen.
We need more family stories, don’t we?
Pam Goode Writes 
Do you have any family stories from your home in Pass Christian or photos? I’ve admired your home from the street for years. I met with realtor today to view the home. It can electric and grand again. /
-Scott
LikeLike
Interesting blog. I am a new follower. I hope you also follow my blog and interact with our post. A cordial greeting from the south of Spain 🇪🇸🙏🫂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Happy to meet you, and I love Spain!
LikeLike
What a great story and an apt item to remind you of your father. Ironically, I was thinking of my dad today while cutting the grass. I got a tear in my eye remembering his kindness and generosity, and his playful sense of humor. This all came about by glancing at his initials carved in the doorway of the horse barn where I now keep the lawnmower. He always told me that he got a good lickin’ when his dad discovered this ‘work of art’. But I’m so glad he did it — it’s a remnant from his time here and a constant reminder of the love he had for this farm.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Elliot, I wish I had known your dad, but I imagine he was quite a bit like you. I love the initials carved into the horse barn door, and I’ll bet you anything that no matter his disgruntled words at the carving, he came to love your “surprise” touch as much as he loved you.
LikeLike
Actually, my dad was the carver and his dad had the disgruntled words for him. But don’t worry, there were many times that I earned similar ‘praise’ from my father, and those stories and the accompanying evidence will pass to future generations, I’m sure! The point being, we often leave a legacy whether we want to or not; it is up to souls we may or may not know to move them forward and share them so they can live on. Some of us are better at nurturing this progression than others and it appears that you are one of those who finds value in so doing. Hurrah for you!
LikeLike
I LOVE family stories, Pam!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Becky, I’m glad to hear it! And thank you for the validation!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure!
LikeLike
What a beautiful thing to have – to see and touch and think of your Dad.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Jewel! I totally agree, and I love that it passed through so many family members!
LikeLike