"An only child alone and wild, a cabinet maker's son
His hands were meant for different work
And his heart was known to none"
I like that song, I really do. But there's nothing relatable there except that fact that I'm a cabiner-maker's son. Yup, papa is/was a carpenter.
Being a carpenter's son has it's good and bad points. The good is you have a handy man always ready to do woodwork for you. When I was young, I remember I never to do any of my Home-Eco projects. Papa did everything and he did it well. We made foldable chairs and all of my classmates' work were ugly, but mine was perfect. I didn't do it of course - papa did. And that's probably one of the worst things in having a carpenter dad. I didn't have to be one anymore.
Fast forward to last week, I was asked by church to help build a name-card board for a newly established congregation. Papa is in the Philippines and I had only 2 days to build it. So I called on the spirits and summoned my inner carpenter. For the first time in my 4 decades of life, I used a handsaw. I used a circular saw. I cut and build corner angles. I was the carpenter's son.
Now lo and behold, my tarheta board:
Tee hee!
