It Takes a Thief

Remember that professional woodworker in the area who was cutting wood for tole painters and shrink wrapping the pieces? You don’t? You’re falling behind. Never fear, the link will take you to him. Bench Kitten wanted me to see how it was done so she arranged to have us visit his shop. Wow! It was a real shop. A big time operation that made me look like what I was. A rank amateur.

My Irish mother insisted it was in our blood to be intuitive. That translates to trusting my gut when it comes to people. It has rarely failed me. We got the shop tour, grudgingly. His wife was there also so it was the four of us. He was showing me around all his power tools but didn’t really want me to see how he did things. I understand people compete, but Bench Kitten and I agreed years ago that sharing what we learned with others was a better path for us, so that’s what we do. If you share good ideas with others freely, in a spirit of friendship, you usually end up with more, new and better ideas to apply to what you do and share with others.

He was glad to get rid of us and I was pretty happy to see his shop in the rear view mirror. A few hours later he called me on the telephone. This was back in the day before your four year old nephew had his own cell phone. I was surprised to hear from him and shocked when he told me something was missing from his shop and he wanted to know if I had stolen it. I had no idea what he was talking about and told him so. He was having none of it. He called the craft store where Bench Kitten was teaching and told the owners I was a thief.

When I was a boy I picked up a pair of sunglasses in a drug store. When I went home wearing them my father asked where I got them. He knew I’d stolen them and marched me back to the drug store where I had to tell the owner I’d stolen them from him. I never took anything that didn’t belong to me after that.

He later found what he’d misplaced, but I never heard from him about it. I began to dislike woodcutters.

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