Popular Woodworking 2005-12 № 152, страница 103

Out of the Woodwork

A Whiff of the Past

The scents of our work can evoke a sense of reverie.

If anything can plunge you into a nostalgic reverie, it's a scent.

I don't know whether it's because I'm getting older or because my father is getting older, but smells have triggered a lot of memories for me lately, mostly related to him.

Just the other day I was sniffing myself - as I'm wont to do as I wish to avoid knocking people out - and a memory of my father came wafting back.

I was about 4 years old and my father had just picked me up from nursery school. He was carrying me when I smelled what came to be, for me, that "man smell" - a combination of the metallic, oily, sweaty smell that comes from working with metals and machines all day. It's an honest smell that's not at all unpleasant.

Why did catching a whiff of myself bring back that memory? It was the same smell.

For years I was a white-collar worker in the computer industry (corporations do leave a smell on you - but not one that is all that pleasant). I now work with metals and make tools, as did my father, a master tool and die maker of the old school. I make hand planes, along with other tools, so that "man smell" is something I now smell pretty much every day.

It's funny, but I know that my dad's memories are triggered by that smell, too. Recently, my parents visited me. I had just returned from the shop when I passed very close by my father. He grabbed me by the shoulders and took a deep breath through his nose. He smiled - that was all. We didn't say anything but it was one of those "I know that you know that I know" moments. I smiled right back.

I also work with wood and that smell brings back its own set of memories. You know - fresh-cut wood combined with sweat

and, in my case, the smells of the forest -another "man smell."

I recently cut up a maple tree that had been hit by lightning and the smell transported me back to the farm and age 11.

My father had a 14-acre plot he bought as an investment. It had about one clear acre; the rest was forest. The first summer we turned that one acre over by hand with shovels, then planted potatoes. I hated every minute of it. (Nostalgia doesn't have to be pleasant!)

The next year my father wanted more clear acreage so I came to know the smell of

by Ben Knebel

Ben Knebel is a tool collector and one of the founders of the Shepherd Tool Co., which sells infill hand planes and kits for building planes. Visit shepherdtool.com for more information.

cut wood as we felled the trees. We cleared about two acres with a hand ax and a two-man saw. I hated that, too.

But I have good memories as well. A creek ran along the front of that piece of land, and on one of those rare occasions where I was simply allowed to play, I met my first love.

She was 10 to my 11, and a farmer's daughter from the farm across the way (yeah, yeah - I know all the jokes). I was catching frogs when I heard this tentative "Hello." Looking up, I saw a girl with dark hair and the deepest, bluest eyes I had ever - and have ever - seen. Instant love.

Pause for a deep intake of breath - let it out slowly and revel in that memory.

You know the saying: "Stop and smell the roses." It must have been a very wise person who said that.

Stop, smell and remember. PW

104 Popular Woodworking December 2005