The Apprentice's Toolbox

[[email protected]]

Aviation Apprentice

They were told to be there at 0730 and, with rare
exception, they always were, at least on that first
all-important day. There was never less than
thirty-two of them, never more than thirty-six. The
youngest had just turned fourteen, the oldest was a
day shy of eighteen. There were no exceptions to
this rule.

It was always a mixed bag that stood nervously
outside that hanger door, with an occasional turban
or fedora among the cloth caps. Especially nervous
were the Africans, knowing they were in a country
where lynching members of their race was still
considered an acceptable form of behavior. A
sprinkling of Orientals rounded out the racial mix
but often confusedly so since some were lanky six-
footers. The confusion was compounded by native-
born Chilean named O'Hara who spoke better German
than Spanish and a Chinese boy whose mother tongue
was Portuguese.

And English, of course. English was another rule
for which there was no exception. English was the
language of aviation.

At exactly 0730 the door opened and a man bearing a
clipboard stepped out. Without greeting or preamble
he called the first name, got a startled reply from
the surprised boy who was told "One-one," and saw
his name ticked off the alphabetized list. The man
went on to the next name and the one after that
before he noticed the first boy was still there, a
picture of worried indecision.

"Table one," the man said slowly. "Table one, place
one. Inside," the man gestured abruptly with his
pencil and went on to the fourth name who became
'one-four'. Number five became 'two-one' and the
mystery was revealed as soon as the boys entered the
building.

The tables were right there, impossible to miss
since they occupied half the extensive space.
Varnished maple tops a solid two inches thick, four
feet wide and eight feet long, supported on steel
legs painted gray. The ten tables were clearly
marked with their numbers and the four places at
each table was also marked. But the boys hardly
noticed.

The remaining half of the space was occupied by an
airplane. The boys immediately recognized it's make
and model although few had never seen one in the
flesh. Having their eyes fastened to the plane made
it difficult for them to find their places at the
tables but all eventually did so, even though their
heads remained cocked toward the airplane. The
airplane was why they were there. It was a dream
come true, a thing too exciting to ignore.

But as soon as they were all at their places the
man, who said simply "I'll be your instructor,"
explained sorrowfully that they would all have to go
back outside. Someone had created a bit of a mess -
- two cigarette butts -- and it would have to be
cleaned up.

First one then the other of the guilty boys
confessed their crime and moved toward the door but
the man would not allow it. It had to be all or
none. That's how things were done here. And so
long as he was in charge, it would be all.

Brooms and dust-pans were found and the area in
front of the building given a brisk but effective
sweep-down. But by the time the brooms were put
away several boys had forgotten their numbers. And
again, it was all or nothing. Rather than look up
their numbers individually the man called the entire
roll.

Each table held four drawers and the space under
each table was marked off into four sections.
Inside each drawer was an identical kit of tools and
an inventory sheet. Each boy was required to
inventory his tools as the instructor called them
out, marking them off on their inventory sheet which
the boy then signed. Lining up by their numbers,
the boys were conducted to a room on the far side of
the building where they turned in their inventory
sheet and received back three shop coats of a size
appropriate to their build. Or nearly so.

The shop coats were glorious things of white cotton
twill, embroidered across the back with the winged
symbol of their employer. They were told to reserve
one of the shop-coats for special occasions and to
keep the other two properly washed and mended, for
it was now their daily uniform.

Properly frocked and tabled, the boys were then
addressed by an older man in a three-piece suit and
gold-rimmed glasses, obviously someone important
from the Front Office. The man spoke in a friendly,
familiar fashion, smiling often and making it clear
he thought them a welcome addition to the company,
which is why the company was willing to go through
the expense of training them for three years,
providing them with their shop coats and working
space, their basic kit of tools and of course the
all-important toolbox to keep them in...

At which point the Instructor leaned near the
Important Man and told him they were out of
toolboxes at the moment but just as soon as some
came in...

The Important Man didn't care for this news. Not
one bit of it. He frowned and when he did so all
the warmth went out of that wonderful airplane-
filled space. He reminded the Instructor that the
apprenticeship program was costing the company
thousands of dollars and that there was a right way
and a wrong of doing things and any attempt to
properly train an apprentice who did not have his
own toolbox was obviously wrong. They would have to
send the boys home and reschedule the start of their
training... at least, for any who were still
qualified, for some later date.
Insert here a dramatic pause, during which
apprentices had been known to faint, burst into
tears or lose control of their bladder.

"I suppose I could have them make their own
toolboxes," the Instructor mused in a tentative way.

The Important Man gave the Instructor a scornful
look. "That wouldn't do. They'll have those
toolboxes for the rest of their lives. Everywhere
they go people would see those toolboxes with our
logo on them. We couldn't allow any shoddy goods."

"Oh, they wouldn't be shoddy," the Instructor
assured him. "Built to spec, every one of them."

Here the Important Man turned toward the boys. He
didn't look pleased. "Are they up to that? Some of
them don't have any training at all... "

"I'm sure they can do it if we give them the
chance," the Instructor coaxed. Thirty-six rigid
faced boys silently screamed 'Yes! Give us a
chance!'

And so it was. The boys were trooped to another
building where four sheets of sixty-thou 17ST was
sheared into strips sixteen by forty-eight inches.
In another shop each boy was given a piece of one-
by-one by eighth-inch aluminum angle along with a
paper cup half filled with rivets. In the Steel
Shop each boy received a section of piano hinge, two
luggage latches, a small hasp and a piece of 3/8"
cold-rolled steel bar ten inches long. Juggling
this crazy assortment of stuff, cutting themselves
on the sheet metal, dribbling rivets, they scurried
back to their classroom. It wasn't yet nine a.m. of
the first day of their apprenticeship and things
seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket. Or in
a toolbox.

---------------------------

It was all a bit of a show of course.

Over the next two weeks each of the apprentices,
save those who slipped quietly away and never
returned, used the materials to build his toolbox.
The sheet of aluminum -- when properly cut --
provided enough material to fabricate a toolbox
approximately sixteen inches long, eight inches wide
and ten inches deep. The corners of the box were
reenforced with angle while the steel rod was bent
to form the handle. The box was assembled with
eighth-inch rivets having a one-inch pitch.

For many of the boys it was their first exposure to
metal-work. For others, it was their first use of
feet and inches and all those confusing fractions,
so unlike the innate simplicity of their native
metric system. And for most, it was their first
experience with dust pans and brooms and working
alongside a total stranger from exotic land such as
Nigeria or Oklahoma.

If the truth be told, a few of the toolboxes were
less than spectacular when it came to workmanship.
But each was built to spec. And each passed a
rigorous inspection, not only from the Instructor
but from the student's peers for here again, it was
All or Nothing.

The resulting box was acid-etched with name of the
apprentice and with the logo of the particular
school. The details of the toolbox -- and of this
story -- vary from school to school, with a Northrup
toolbox being distinctive from a Spartan, as a
Loughead differed from a Fleet. But the principle
remained the same for all: With the manual arts,
you learn through experience. Building your own
toolbox was simply the first step on that path. But
there was a far more subtle lesson being taught, one
having to do with the nature of airplanes and
teamwork.

Many a mechanic... and not a few executives... still
have their 'apprentice box', often prominently
displayed on their Trophy Wall among their photos,
diplomas and other tokens of accomplishment.

-----------------------------------------

How about you?

Ever used a cleco? (or know how they got their
name?) Ever made a buck-head? Have you been
properly introduced to Mr. Smiley?

Building the basic box is akin to building the basic
airplane in that you first fabricate the parts then
assemble them into subassemblies and the
subassemblies into the whole. Along the way you
must do some accurate cutting and filing and
drilling as well as figuring out half a dozen
problems built-in to such a project, such as 'How do
I get all twenty pieces of sheet metal out of this
16x48 panel?'

Frankly, it's a lot of work. And nowadays work is
considered a bit old-fashioned, especially if it
involves something you've never done before.

But the concept behind the Basic Box applies equally
well to composites, welded steel or even wooden
construction practices -- the Basic Box is meant to
provide the means to an end rather than an end unto
itself.

Want to build the Basic Box from fiberglas? No
problem. There are at least four acceptable methods
of arriving at the desired finished product.
Howabout wood? The same applies to wooden
construction. Or to steel. And in each case the
object is not to provide you with a toolbox, it is
to teach you welding or wood-working or many
possible variations when working with composites.

So you do the work and in doing so, learn the
required techniques. But it isn't some Quick &
Easy smear a little epoxy on the table sorta thing.
Nor do you weld half a joint and skip off to the
next booth to get a three minute 'education' in
scarfing plywood. Under the Old Rules you not only
acquired an in-depth knowledge of the required
techniques and procedures, you made a useful thing,
something that would last your lifetime, something
better than anything you could buy... and something
that could only be made by human hands.

Want to buy a 'prentice box'? I'll be happy to sell
you mine. For ten thousand dollars :-)

-R.S.Hoover

[Stealth Pilot[_2_]]

pure gann.

c'mon ....write page two.

Stealth Pilot

....who still has a wooden tool box in use that he built 20 years ago
without a single nail. the wife will not part with it.




On Fri, 11 Apr 2008 00:20:10 -0700 (PDT), "
> wrote:

>Aviation Apprentice
>
>They were told to be there at 0730 and, with rare
>exception, they always were, at least on that first
>all-important day. There was never less than
>thirty-two of them, never more than thirty-six. The
>youngest had just turned fourteen, the oldest was a
>day shy of eighteen. There were no exceptions to
>this rule.
>
>It was always a mixed bag that stood nervously
>outside that hanger door, with an occasional turban
>or fedora among the cloth caps. Especially nervous
>were the Africans, knowing they were in a country
>where lynching members of their race was still
>considered an acceptable form of behavior. A
>sprinkling of Orientals rounded out the racial mix
>but often confusedly so since some were lanky six-
>footers. The confusion was compounded by native-
>born Chilean named O'Hara who spoke better German
>than Spanish and a Chinese boy whose mother tongue
>was Portuguese.
>
>And English, of course. English was another rule
>for which there was no exception. English was the
>language of aviation.
>
>At exactly 0730 the door opened and a man bearing a
>clipboard stepped out. Without greeting or preamble
>he called the first name, got a startled reply from
>the surprised boy who was told "One-one," and saw
>his name ticked off the alphabetized list. The man
>went on to the next name and the one after that
>before he noticed the first boy was still there, a
>picture of worried indecision.
>
>"Table one," the man said slowly. "Table one, place
>one. Inside," the man gestured abruptly with his
>pencil and went on to the fourth name who became
>'one-four'. Number five became 'two-one' and the
>mystery was revealed as soon as the boys entered the
>building.
>
>The tables were right there, impossible to miss
>since they occupied half the extensive space.
>Varnished maple tops a solid two inches thick, four
>feet wide and eight feet long, supported on steel
>legs painted gray. The ten tables were clearly
>marked with their numbers and the four places at
>each table was also marked. But the boys hardly
>noticed.
>
>The remaining half of the space was occupied by an
>airplane. The boys immediately recognized it's make
>and model although few had never seen one in the
>flesh. Having their eyes fastened to the plane made
>it difficult for them to find their places at the
>tables but all eventually did so, even though their
>heads remained cocked toward the airplane. The
>airplane was why they were there. It was a dream
>come true, a thing too exciting to ignore.
>
>But as soon as they were all at their places the
>man, who said simply "I'll be your instructor,"
>explained sorrowfully that they would all have to go
>back outside. Someone had created a bit of a mess -
>- two cigarette butts -- and it would have to be
>cleaned up.
>
>First one then the other of the guilty boys
>confessed their crime and moved toward the door but
>the man would not allow it. It had to be all or
>none. That's how things were done here. And so
>long as he was in charge, it would be all.
>
>Brooms and dust-pans were found and the area in
>front of the building given a brisk but effective
>sweep-down. But by the time the brooms were put
>away several boys had forgotten their numbers. And
>again, it was all or nothing. Rather than look up
>their numbers individually the man called the entire
>roll.
>
>Each table held four drawers and the space under
>each table was marked off into four sections.
>Inside each drawer was an identical kit of tools and
>an inventory sheet. Each boy was required to
>inventory his tools as the instructor called them
>out, marking them off on their inventory sheet which
>the boy then signed. Lining up by their numbers,
>the boys were conducted to a room on the far side of
>the building where they turned in their inventory
>sheet and received back three shop coats of a size
>appropriate to their build. Or nearly so.
>
>The shop coats were glorious things of white cotton
>twill, embroidered across the back with the winged
>symbol of their employer. They were told to reserve
>one of the shop-coats for special occasions and to
>keep the other two properly washed and mended, for
>it was now their daily uniform.
>
>Properly frocked and tabled, the boys were then
>addressed by an older man in a three-piece suit and
>gold-rimmed glasses, obviously someone important
>from the Front Office. The man spoke in a friendly,
>familiar fashion, smiling often and making it clear
>he thought them a welcome addition to the company,
>which is why the company was willing to go through
>the expense of training them for three years,
>providing them with their shop coats and working
>space, their basic kit of tools and of course the
>all-important toolbox to keep them in...
>
>At which point the Instructor leaned near the
>Important Man and told him they were out of
>toolboxes at the moment but just as soon as some
>came in...
>
>The Important Man didn't care for this news. Not
>one bit of it. He frowned and when he did so all
>the warmth went out of that wonderful airplane-
>filled space. He reminded the Instructor that the
>apprenticeship program was costing the company
>thousands of dollars and that there was a right way
>and a wrong of doing things and any attempt to
>properly train an apprentice who did not have his
>own toolbox was obviously wrong. They would have to
>send the boys home and reschedule the start of their
>training... at least, for any who were still
>qualified, for some later date.
>Insert here a dramatic pause, during which
>apprentices had been known to faint, burst into
>tears or lose control of their bladder.
>
>"I suppose I could have them make their own
>toolboxes," the Instructor mused in a tentative way.
>
>The Important Man gave the Instructor a scornful
>look. "That wouldn't do. They'll have those
>toolboxes for the rest of their lives. Everywhere
>they go people would see those toolboxes with our
>logo on them. We couldn't allow any shoddy goods."
>
>"Oh, they wouldn't be shoddy," the Instructor
>assured him. "Built to spec, every one of them."
>
>Here the Important Man turned toward the boys. He
>didn't look pleased. "Are they up to that? Some of
>them don't have any training at all... "
>
>"I'm sure they can do it if we give them the
>chance," the Instructor coaxed. Thirty-six rigid
>faced boys silently screamed 'Yes! Give us a
>chance!'
>
>And so it was. The boys were trooped to another
>building where four sheets of sixty-thou 17ST was
>sheared into strips sixteen by forty-eight inches.
>In another shop each boy was given a piece of one-
>by-one by eighth-inch aluminum angle along with a
>paper cup half filled with rivets. In the Steel
>Shop each boy received a section of piano hinge, two
>luggage latches, a small hasp and a piece of 3/8"
>cold-rolled steel bar ten inches long. Juggling
>this crazy assortment of stuff, cutting themselves
>on the sheet metal, dribbling rivets, they scurried
>back to their classroom. It wasn't yet nine a.m. of
>the first day of their apprenticeship and things
>seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket. Or in
>a toolbox.
>
>---------------------------
>
>It was all a bit of a show of course.
>
>Over the next two weeks each of the apprentices,
>save those who slipped quietly away and never
>returned, used the materials to build his toolbox.
>The sheet of aluminum -- when properly cut --
>provided enough material to fabricate a toolbox
>approximately sixteen inches long, eight inches wide
>and ten inches deep. The corners of the box were
>reenforced with angle while the steel rod was bent
>to form the handle. The box was assembled with
>eighth-inch rivets having a one-inch pitch.
>
>For many of the boys it was their first exposure to
>metal-work. For others, it was their first use of
>feet and inches and all those confusing fractions,
>so unlike the innate simplicity of their native
>metric system. And for most, it was their first
>experience with dust pans and brooms and working
>alongside a total stranger from exotic land such as
>Nigeria or Oklahoma.
>
>If the truth be told, a few of the toolboxes were
>less than spectacular when it came to workmanship.
>But each was built to spec. And each passed a
>rigorous inspection, not only from the Instructor
>but from the student's peers for here again, it was
>All or Nothing.
>
>The resulting box was acid-etched with name of the
>apprentice and with the logo of the particular
>school. The details of the toolbox -- and of this
>story -- vary from school to school, with a Northrup
>toolbox being distinctive from a Spartan, as a
>Loughead differed from a Fleet. But the principle
>remained the same for all: With the manual arts,
>you learn through experience. Building your own
>toolbox was simply the first step on that path. But
>there was a far more subtle lesson being taught, one
>having to do with the nature of airplanes and
>teamwork.
>
>Many a mechanic... and not a few executives... still
>have their 'apprentice box', often prominently
>displayed on their Trophy Wall among their photos,
>diplomas and other tokens of accomplishment.
>
>-----------------------------------------
>
>How about you?
>
>Ever used a cleco? (or know how they got their
>name?) Ever made a buck-head? Have you been
>properly introduced to Mr. Smiley?
>
>Building the basic box is akin to building the basic
>airplane in that you first fabricate the parts then
>assemble them into subassemblies and the
>subassemblies into the whole. Along the way you
>must do some accurate cutting and filing and
>drilling as well as figuring out half a dozen
>problems built-in to such a project, such as 'How do
>I get all twenty pieces of sheet metal out of this
>16x48 panel?'
>
>Frankly, it's a lot of work. And nowadays work is
>considered a bit old-fashioned, especially if it
>involves something you've never done before.
>
>But the concept behind the Basic Box applies equally
>well to composites, welded steel or even wooden
>construction practices -- the Basic Box is meant to
>provide the means to an end rather than an end unto
>itself.
>
>Want to build the Basic Box from fiberglas? No
>problem. There are at least four acceptable methods
>of arriving at the desired finished product.
>Howabout wood? The same applies to wooden
>construction. Or to steel. And in each case the
>object is not to provide you with a toolbox, it is
>to teach you welding or wood-working or many
>possible variations when working with composites.
>
>So you do the work and in doing so, learn the
>required techniques. But it isn't some Quick &
>Easy smear a little epoxy on the table sorta thing.
>Nor do you weld half a joint and skip off to the
>next booth to get a three minute 'education' in
>scarfing plywood. Under the Old Rules you not only
>acquired an in-depth knowledge of the required
>techniques and procedures, you made a useful thing,
>something that would last your lifetime, something
>better than anything you could buy... and something
>that could only be made by human hands.
>
>Want to buy a 'prentice box'? I'll be happy to sell
>you mine. For ten thousand dollars :-)
>
>-R.S.Hoover
>

[RST Engineering]

You sell too cheap, Bob. I've already made the arrangements that mine will
be buried (or incinerated) along with me.

Jim



>
> Want to buy a 'prentice box'? I'll be happy to sell
> you mine. For ten thousand dollars :-)
>
> -R.S.Hoover
>
>

[[email protected]]

On Apr 11, 7:55 am, "RST Engineering" > wrote:
> You sell too cheap, Bob. I've already made the arrangements that mine will
> be buried (or incinerated) along with me.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See... bobhooversblog.blogspot.com

....for some of the drawings & photos that went with the submission.
Those wunnerful folks at Sport Aviation wanted it as a freebie (we all
know how poor they are). Usual rejection from Kitplanes and a
machinist magazine.

I even wrote up an Instructor's Manual with a whole buncha photos
showing which parts of the box could be used to introduce hand-
squeezers, joggling, use of the brake, use of the lathe (for the
handles) and so forth. Zero interest.

One of these boxes was the inspiration for 'The Ugliest
Toolbox'' (also in the blog... with a few more photos).

All the guys I grew up with -- mostly pushing up daisys now -- always
gave kids rides and taught them useful stuff. Nowadays it seems
everyone is too busy charging a dollar for a dimes-worth of
information to care about what happens when those sources of free,
PRACTICAL information are no longer available to the nation's young.

---------------------------------------------

Politicians and bureaucrats, like the people running the EAA, like to
tell everyone how they are experts on the Art of the Possible. Which
means they're second-raters. Progress comes from tackling the chores
everyone says are IMPOSSIBLE.

-Bob

[Capt. Geoffrey Thorpe]

> wrote in message
...
> Aviation Apprentice
>
<...>
>
> How about you?
>
> Ever used a cleco? (or know how they got their
> name?) Ever made a buck-head? Have you been
> properly introduced to Mr. Smiley?
>

Yes, not a clue, yes, if by that you mean "oops I slipped off the rivet" -
that's why my brother always handed me the bucking bar...

--
Geoff
The Sea Hawk at Wow Way d0t Com
remove spaces and make the obvious substitutions to reply by mail
When immigration is outlawed, only outlaws will immigrate.

[Morgans[_2_]]

> On Apr 11, 7:55 am, "RST Engineering" > wrote:
>> You sell too cheap, Bob. I've already made the arrangements that mine
>> will
>> be buried (or incinerated) along with me.
>> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> I even wrote up an Instructor's Manual with a whole buncha photos
> showing which parts of the box could be used to introduce hand-
> squeezers, joggling, use of the brake, use of the lathe (for the
> handles) and so forth. Zero interest.
>
> All the guys I grew up with -- mostly pushing up daisys now -- always
> gave kids rides and taught them useful stuff. Nowadays it seems
> everyone is too busy charging a dollar for a dimes-worth of
> information to care about what happens when those sources of free,
> PRACTICAL information are no longer available to the nation's young.

Yep, most people have no idea how important it is to some of us to learn how
to make things, to learn what we did not know yesterday. To me, it is one
of the most important things in life.

March 20, a few weeks ago, I lost my mentor. My Dad. My friend. I am what
I am today, because of him.

His dad was a machinist, mostly self educated. My dad was the first of his
family to go to college and got an engineering degree, but his dad passed
many of his hands on skills along to him. My dad passed the skills along to
me.

From the time I was old enough to walk, when my dad was in the garage
working on something, I was at his side. I held lights, fetched tools,
cleaned parts, or whatever was needed. Dad always told people that half the
time, he would have to get me out of between his eyes and the work, so he
could continue working. I wanted to learn everything, and see everything,
and dad took the time to show me and teach me. For this, I am eternally
grateful.

I'm also doing my part, and have passed what I could along to my son.
Someday, he will have his great grandpa's tool box, and all of the other
goodies that dad and I have accumulated, too. I hope he passes them along,
and that they mean as much to him, as they have meant to me.

The other day, I needed to tap a hole, and went into grandpa's tool box (a
huge home-made rolling wooden tool box, drawers and all, that he pulled
around the factory to do his work. What a work of art that toolbox is. I
was looking for a tap handle. I found one. It was home made, and had my
grandpa's name stamped on it with a center punch, and the date he made it.
1911. It is now one of my most cherished possessions.

Losing my Dad was one of the toughest things I have ever gone through. His
absence leaves a big hole in my life. It is a little easier, remembering
all we did together, and knowing all I learned from him. I miss him, but am
grateful for the impact he had on my life.

R.I.P., Jack Morgan.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings. It felt good to tell everyone about
him.
--
Jim in NC

[cavelamb himself[_4_]]

Sincere condolences, my friend.

[Jim Logajan]

" > wrote:
....
> How about you?

First project in my high school shop class was a metal dustpan.
Never looked for any deep meaning in the instructor's choice. ;-)

[flash]

> wrote in message
...
> On Apr 11, 7:55 am, "RST Engineering" > wrote:
>> You sell too cheap, Bob. I've already made the arrangements that mine
>> will

(((snipped a bunch)))

> means they're second-raters. Progress comes from tackling the chores
> everyone says are IMPOSSIBLE.
>
> -Bob
>


Bob, if you think nothing is impossible, (as I read somewhere on the
internet last week), please try SLAMMING A REVOLVING DOOR !

Sorry, Pal. I just had to throw that one in there.

The kit I made in 1962 finally went away in my last move to smaller
quarters. It did heroic service from then to 2005. The casters were replaced
once, and the drawers were upgraded in 1968 to plexiglass, but everything
else including the alkyd enamel inside and out stood well. Even the YESCO
(Young Electric Sign Co, Las Vegas, 1963) decal remained.

Flash

[Dan[_2_]]

cavelamb himself wrote:
> Sincere condolences, my friend.

Agreed, and it's a shame many schools don't have shop class, that
parents don't have some practical skills to pass on etc. It's all "get a
higher education" and "go to college." Whatever happened to hands on in
childhood? My son and I used to drive my ex nuts because we'd get dirty
working on my car. He started very young playing with the hand tools.
I'm by no means an expert mechanic, but I can do most work on a car. My
son is the same way. The same with basic home repair. I'm afraid we are
becoming book smart and world dense.

Having said that, I do know people who are dangerous with anything
more complicated than a screw driver. Let them keep plumbers,
electricians, tow drivers etc employed.

Dan, U.S. Air Force, retired

[Dan[_2_]]

Jim Logajan wrote:
> " > wrote:
> ...
>> How about you?
>
> First project in my high school shop class was a metal dustpan.
> Never looked for any deep meaning in the instructor's choice. ;-)

It was probably a subtle hint. I'm willing to bet you had at least
one fellow student who would be using his a lot.

Dan, U.S. Air Force, retired

[Steve Hix]

I'm sorry for your loss; my dad passed away unexpectedly a couple years
ago.

All I can say, inadequate as it is, would be that whatever he taught you
will always be with you. The pain will ease over time, while the good
parts of the past will not.


In article >,
"Morgans" > wrote:

> > On Apr 11, 7:55 am, "RST Engineering" > wrote:
> >> You sell too cheap, Bob. I've already made the arrangements that mine
> >> will
> >> be buried (or incinerated) along with me.
> >> ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
> >> ----------
> >
> > I even wrote up an Instructor's Manual with a whole buncha photos
> > showing which parts of the box could be used to introduce hand-
> > squeezers, joggling, use of the brake, use of the lathe (for the
> > handles) and so forth. Zero interest.
> >
> > All the guys I grew up with -- mostly pushing up daisys now -- always
> > gave kids rides and taught them useful stuff. Nowadays it seems
> > everyone is too busy charging a dollar for a dimes-worth of
> > information to care about what happens when those sources of free,
> > PRACTICAL information are no longer available to the nation's young.
>
> Yep, most people have no idea how important it is to some of us to learn how
> to make things, to learn what we did not know yesterday. To me, it is one
> of the most important things in life.
>
> March 20, a few weeks ago, I lost my mentor. My Dad. My friend. I am what
> I am today, because of him.
>
> His dad was a machinist, mostly self educated. My dad was the first of his
> family to go to college and got an engineering degree, but his dad passed
> many of his hands on skills along to him. My dad passed the skills along to
> me.
>
> From the time I was old enough to walk, when my dad was in the garage
> working on something, I was at his side. I held lights, fetched tools,
> cleaned parts, or whatever was needed. Dad always told people that half the
> time, he would have to get me out of between his eyes and the work, so he
> could continue working. I wanted to learn everything, and see everything,
> and dad took the time to show me and teach me. For this, I am eternally
> grateful.
>
> I'm also doing my part, and have passed what I could along to my son.
> Someday, he will have his great grandpa's tool box, and all of the other
> goodies that dad and I have accumulated, too. I hope he passes them along,
> and that they mean as much to him, as they have meant to me.
>
> The other day, I needed to tap a hole, and went into grandpa's tool box (a
> huge home-made rolling wooden tool box, drawers and all, that he pulled
> around the factory to do his work. What a work of art that toolbox is. I
> was looking for a tap handle. I found one. It was home made, and had my
> grandpa's name stamped on it with a center punch, and the date he made it.
> 1911. It is now one of my most cherished possessions.
>
> Losing my Dad was one of the toughest things I have ever gone through. His
> absence leaves a big hole in my life. It is a little easier, remembering
> all we did together, and knowing all I learned from him. I miss him, but am
> grateful for the impact he had on my life.
>
> R.I.P., Jack Morgan.
>
> Thanks for listening to my ramblings. It felt good to tell everyone about
> him.

[Richard Riley[_1_]]

On Apr 11, 5:46 pm, "flash" > wrote:

> Bob, if you think nothing is impossible, (as I read somewhere on the
> internet last week), please try SLAMMING A REVOLVING DOOR !

I can't tell you the number of times I've slammed a revolving door.

On my hand.
On my foot.
Etc.

I lost my dad 5 years ago. The last thing I told him was my wife was
pregnant.

I thought I was lying. I was wrong.

Well. Time to break out Field of Dreams again.

[Morgans[_2_]]

"Dan" > wrote

> Agreed, and it's a shame many schools don't have shop class, that
> parents don't have some practical skills to pass on etc.

Strangley, that fits with my story. I went to college and got a music
education degree. After three years, I quit and started doing home repair
and remodeling, full time. Where did I learn to do that? You guessed it;
mostly from dad, and then the rest was self taught. Then, I worked up to
having my own contracting company building houses. When the economy went
tits up about 15 years ago, I took a job teaching shop, but specifically
home construction. All still traces back to dad.

> It's all "get a higher education" and "go to college."

All kids will not go to college. Shame, but some people can't understand
that.

> Having said that, I do know people who are dangerous with anything more
> complicated than a screw driver. Let them keep plumbers, electricians, tow
> drivers etc employed.

Yep. Keep those kids that did not go to college employed!
--
Jim in NC

[Morgans[_2_]]

"Steve Hix" > wrote

> I'm sorry for your loss; my dad passed away unexpectedly a couple years
> ago.
>
> All I can say, inadequate as it is, would be that whatever he taught you
> will always be with you. The pain will ease over time, while the good
> parts of the past will not.

Thanks all, for your kind words.

The pain has indeed started to pass, and the good times are remembered, and
feel better to remember.
--
Jim in NC

[Dan[_2_]]

Morgans wrote:
> "Dan" > wrote
>
>> Agreed, and it's a shame many schools don't have shop class, that
>> parents don't have some practical skills to pass on etc.
>
> Strangley, that fits with my story. I went to college and got a music
> education degree. After three years, I quit and started doing home repair
> and remodeling, full time. Where did I learn to do that? You guessed it;
> mostly from dad, and then the rest was self taught. Then, I worked up to
> having my own contracting company building houses. When the economy went
> tits up about 15 years ago, I took a job teaching shop, but specifically
> home construction. All still traces back to dad.
>
>> It's all "get a higher education" and "go to college."
>
> All kids will not go to college. Shame, but some people can't understand
> that.
>
>> Having said that, I do know people who are dangerous with anything more
>> complicated than a screw driver. Let them keep plumbers, electricians, tow
>> drivers etc employed.
>
> Yep. Keep those kids that did not go to college employed!

Lot to be said for trade schools. Pity is there don't seem to be many
at the high school level. Those who went to those seemed to have an
innate ability before attending and just needed topping off before
heading out into the real world.

Back in the 1980s the local votech here used to offer what they
called a "powder puff" automotive class to teach women basic care and
feeding of their cars. They had to rapidly change the name when they
realized a lot of men were taking it.

Dan, U.S. Air Force, retired

[Peter Dohm]

My most sincere condolences.

I was slightly over 40 when my dad died, and this is somethng that we all go
through. Time helps, but not completely. That's probably a good thing
becasue not caring would be far worse.

Peter

[Jumpin Jahosaphat]

Usually the first step in easing the greef is to get in out in the
open. Thanks for sharing your story.
Unfortunately my relationship with my dad was not quite that good.
John


On Sat, 12 Apr 2008 02:26:39 -0400, Morgans wrote:

>
> "Steve Hix" > wrote
>
>> I'm sorry for your loss; my dad passed away unexpectedly a couple years
>> ago.
>>
>> All I can say, inadequate as it is, would be that whatever he taught you
>> will always be with you. The pain will ease over time, while the good
>> parts of the past will not.
>
> Thanks all, for your kind words.
>
> The pain has indeed started to pass, and the good times are remembered, and
> feel better to remember.

[[email protected]]

On Apr 11, 9:24 am, " > wrote:
> I even wrote up an Instructor's Manual with a whole buncha photos
> showing which parts of the box could be used to introduce hand-
> squeezers, joggling, use of the brake, use of the lathe (for the
> handles) and so forth. Zero interest.

When in Africa a few months ago I bought a copy of Mechanix
Illustrated, with content being somewhat different from that here in
North America, yet it addressed familiar problems. An article in that
magazine lamented the loss of handyman skills among the last couple of
generations, pointing out that kids have been getting electronic games
and other such mindless toys instead of the real-but-small tools like
I was given as a kid. So now there are guys who can't change a light
bulb, much less change the oil in the car or fix a leaking faucet. A
current bestselling book in South Africa is "The Dangerous Book For
Boys" that shows how to build such stuff as a slingshot, or how to set
up a tent and start a campfire. Men are buying that book. It's a sign,
an encouraging sign, that males feel the lack of manual skills, even
if they've never done them, and want to know how. The author of the
article pointed out that an old, no-longer-published magazine for boys
used to have projects and plans in every issue, up to and including
building a small, gasoline-powered car. For boys, this was, not men
with money. How things change.
I've had aircraft projects and restored an old truck and built
several boats. Seems normal to me, but so many fellows say they wish
they do do it, too. The nice tools in their workshops, tools they
don't know how to use, prove that the wish is really there.
So now it's understandable that how-to magazines don't buy
detailed project-building articles. People won't buy the magazine to
build anything, because they don't have the skills to even start
anything. Shoot, even the current kitplane is not much more than a
bolt-together affair.

Dan

[[email protected]]

On Apr 13, 9:08 pm, "dublin_o" > wrote:
> I am going to gather up the tools and the list and show my grandson how to
> build the box, my grandfather did this for me and I still have the box, but
> now it has misc parts in it for my router.
>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Good for you!

As a project, it's pretty easy. The secret is that you only have to
lay-out three rows of holes. Once drilled, the three parts are then
used as drill-guides for all of the other holes except for the
handles, hinges & fittings. Once the builder understands the
principle, the work goes very quickly.

The foundation for the tray may be self-bent using a table edge,
clamps and a rubber mallet but the tray is usually used as a means of
introducing the student to the brake. If you use T-zero stock the
partitions you can fudge the bends a bit, eliminating the need for
high precision.

[Anthony W]

My twin grandsons are to young to build anything yet but I'm going to
save the info on this project for when they get to be about 12 years old
so we can do this together.

Tony

wrote:
> On Apr 13, 9:08 pm, "dublin_o" > wrote:
>> I am going to gather up the tools and the list and show my grandson how to
>> build the box, my grandfather did this for me and I still have the box, but
>> now it has misc parts in it for my router.
>> -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Good for you!
>
> As a project, it's pretty easy. The secret is that you only have to
> lay-out three rows of holes. Once drilled, the three parts are then
> used as drill-guides for all of the other holes except for the
> handles, hinges & fittings. Once the builder understands the
> principle, the work goes very quickly.
>
> The foundation for the tray may be self-bent using a table edge,
> clamps and a rubber mallet but the tray is usually used as a means of
> introducing the student to the brake. If you use T-zero stock the
> partitions you can fudge the bends a bit, eliminating the need for
> high precision.
>
>

[Stealth Pilot[_2_]]

On Mon, 14 Apr 2008 00:08:53 -0400, "dublin_o" >
wrote:

>I am going to gather up the tools and the list and show my grandson how to
>build the box, my grandfather did this for me and I still have the box, but
>now it has misc parts in it for my router.
>
>When my grandson comes for a visit you could not keep him out of the shop.
>Maybe because I have not video games. LMAO
>I even has a hand saw that belonged to my greatgand father and I am over the
>hill, retired and drawing social security. But I still fly ever chance I
>get.
>

Sir you have a life time of experience, you are now a gentleman of
leisure and the country is repaying you a modest stipend in
recognition of all your years of service to it.
the fact that you fly every chance that you get means 2 further
things.
1. that you are engaged in a complex mentally stimulating activity.
2. that mental stimulation and passion means that you will never
become old before your time.

you sell yourself short.


I'm not a pervert or anything but I enjoy the company of women, so I
find it easy to talk to them.
At one of our flyins a group of visitors wives was complaining about
their hubbies passionate interest in aviation.
I pointed out in turn a number of the guys on our airfield. How old do
you think he is I asked?
as we went to each guy they gave the numbers I expected.
45, 50, 50, 55 and so on.
ok Tom isnt 55 he's 78, Ralph isnt 40 he's 68, Roger isnt 50 he's 65.

wouldnt you girls like your guys to look like that when they were that
old?

....instant conversion to aviation. the guys stopped being hassled to
leave, they had lunch made. amazing. ...its true.

your interest in aviation will keep you young.
the american chap who renewed his grade 1 instrument rating at age 99
is a role model we can all try to emulate.
so dublin_o you think you've had it? .....bull****!!!!

Stealth Pilot

[Stealth Pilot[_2_]]

On Sun, 13 Apr 2008 23:32:51 -0700 (PDT), "
> wrote:

>On Apr 13, 9:08 pm, "dublin_o" > wrote:
>> I am going to gather up the tools and the list and show my grandson how to
>> build the box, my grandfather did this for me and I still have the box, but
>> now it has misc parts in it for my router.
>>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
>Good for you!
>
>As a project, it's pretty easy. The secret is that you only have to
>lay-out three rows of holes. Once drilled, the three parts are then
>used as drill-guides for all of the other holes except for the
>handles, hinges & fittings.

Once the builder understands the principle, the work goes very
quickly.

veedubber that is the key part.
the kids these days dont seem to have been taught the way we were.
we got taught the core principles and how they were applied.

the kids now seem to be taught an endless passage of superficial
details with little structure and none of the core issues explained.

when we were kids the old man built a duck boat with us. it is a free
plan somewhere on a web site these days. it is a slab sided ply thing
that looks 1950's but is actually a magic little boat to use. it is a
really good design. I conjured up a single seat 80% size version of it
out of one sheet of plywood, calculated the bouyancy as workable, and
built it. the kids saw it almost complete and the nipper (about to
become an airforce pilot) admitted that he had no idea how you would
go about designing the little boat.

the thing that you do masterfully veedubber is write in a manner that
is entertaining and interesting. you need to keep doing this.

what the rest of us need to do is enthrall the kids with what we do,
get them involved hands on, gradually reveal to them how things work
and how people go about designing them. above all we need to instill
in the kids that everything complex is made up of little individual
components that are build one after the other and then assembled into
the more complex thing.

we old farts who understand these things have an important legacy to
pass on to the kids. we have to do this because they arent going to
get the skills any other way.

Stealth Pilot

(for the life of me I couldnt remember the boat's name. google is my
saviour! the design is called Pintail and is available free from
http://www.svensons.com/boat/?p=RowBoats/Pintail
for anyone wanting to build woodworking skills with a view to aircraft
building it would be a good safe start. It's where I started.)

[wright1902glider]

warning: this is a long post and has little to do with airplanes

I lost my Dad on March 20, 2006, rather suddenly after a long illness.
He had worked as an A & P for Petroleum Helicopters for 35 years, most
of them bending wrenches. And of course that meant that if it had an
engine and 4 wheels, we were under it or up to our armpits in it at
least once a month. I can't even count the number of times he was
waiting for me at the bus stop with his usual "Good, ur home... I need
ur help" which I cursed repeatedly since I hadn't even made it to the
door of the house before being pressed into service as a lamp post.
"Shine ur light down in here... and quit wiggling dammit." My Old Man
was something of an S.O.B. It always amazed me how he kept his job,
considering the things that came out of his mouth when we worked on
cars. And it seemed that the older I got, the worse things got between
us. I was never really sure why. But I went off to college and got my
B.A. etc. Big deal to my Old Man.

But then I started to make things. First a small wooden boat about the
size of a kayak... in the living room of my apartment. And then flying
machines cobbled together from bamboo and "viz-queen" and duct tape.
And then they started to fly. My Old Man showed a little interest. And
two years later, I tore apart an overworked minivan and replaced a
rear main oil seal... on a front-wheel-drive. We'd done that one once
before, when I was 14, but that was on a RWD car. The Old Man was
almost impressed. Then I started building the Wright machine. I had
planned to unveil it to my folks in Kitty Hawk and fly it. But that
dream was bigger than I was, and we never made it there. Two months
after that failure, the Old Man, who had had diabetes for years and
still smoked a pack a day was forced onto dyalisis every other day. I
knew what that meant, even then.

But a few weeks after that, I got a call from the folks at the CAF
about thier Houston show. Houston was only about 4 hours from my
folks' house so I asked for comp-passes for them. Pop made it in for
the Saturday show. We spent about 2 hours inspecting the flying
machine and discussing the various parts and systems. I could see that
the kidney failure was really taking a toll on him, but he stayed
through the entire show. In the middle of the afternoon, a man stopped
by and asked if Pop had built the glider. Pop looked up and said
"no... my son built it." The man said, "Wow, its really nice" and Pop
said, "yea, it really is." And to me, that one moment made all the
difference.

A few days after Pop passed, we got the coriner's report. The results
set me back. The official cause of death was listed as accute
congestive heart failure, as a result of kidney failure, as a result
of diabetes, as a result of agent orange poisioning. Pop had be
drafted in 1967. He went to Vietnam, served in the 2nd Bat., 94th
Artillery at Camp JJ Carroll, came home, and said almost nothing about
it. Except once or twice that he'd shelled Khe Sanh or Hue or Cong
Thien. He had worked steadily as an A & P for 35 years without saying
much about it.

After Pop passed, I learned why he didn't talk about the war, and how
he'd kept his job. Pop was at Camp Carroll during the worst of the Tet
offensive, and his battle record read like a list of newspaper
headlines. Pop was also one of the most respected (maybe not well-
liked, but respected) mechanics in his company, as I learned from
stories told about him. And when we burried him, I sent him off the
way he had lived: with a pack of smokes, my Zippo, and his 9/16" box-
end wrench, without saying much about it. I kept his other tools...
and his toolboxes, for myself. Like he wanted it. And now, two years
later, what I have left are a few memories, a halfa' life's worth of
skills and experience, and that toolbox.

Scott David Frey
"some people call me Harry"
Wright Brothers Enterprises

[Bob Fry]

I have been reading great stories from y'all about how your Fathers or
Grand-dads were good mechs and passed it on to you, willingly or
not...and now rather later, you have the skills and appreciation.

Here is the rest of the story. Or at least another side of it.

My Dad was not too close to us kids nor us to him, only long after he
died and I was (am) his age when I was a boy do I now understand
better. He was not much at all of a handyman though had a few simple
tools.

Somehow I always liked airplanes and started with the plastic models
(Revell, Monogram) eventually moving on to first u-control gas
models, then R/C. This was the late '60s to early '70s so the gadgets
were not cheap like now. My brother and I did this entirely on our
own, Dad being even less in the picture. I learned a very modest
amount of craft techniques from this.

Around age 12 or 13 I saw plans in Pop Mechanics for a
land sail-cruiser, sort of like a go-cart but powered with a sail.
This caught my fancy--anything involving the air did--and I determined
to build it. But I had no skill or knowledge, hardly any tools except
what was in the household cardboard box--hammer, screwdriver, etc.
Nevertheless off I went. Purchased the materials at the local
hardware store and began to stumble through it. Absolutely ignorant
about fittings, consulted with the hardware store guys, but finally at
some point could go no further. Left it half-built. Don't know why
that sticks with me still today.

Took metal and wood shop in high school and learned something: with
some instruction, and taking time, I could make something with
quality. Might be slow about it but the result would not embarrass
me.

Continued building the R/C models, got my PP-ASEL at age 20 and
finally bought my own plane at age 46--an Aircoupe. And got the bug
for something faster so last December sent the money in for an RV-9A
Quick Build. Have a few more skills than from 40 years ago. But
still remember that if I take my time and ask for advice it will be a
good ending.

Don't know how all that fits into an Apprentice Toolbox. Too bad for
kids growing up in the suburbs today. Gotta be driven everywhere,
can't be allowed to think for themselves. Too many damn
temptations. WTH.
--
Monarchy degenerates into tyranny, aristocracy into oligarchy, and
democracy into savage violence and chaos.
~ Polybius

[Stealth Pilot[_2_]]

On Mon, 14 Apr 2008 19:39:48 -0700, Bob Fry >
wrote:


>Don't know how all that fits into an Apprentice Toolbox. Too bad for
>kids growing up in the suburbs today. Gotta be driven everywhere,
>can't be allowed to think for themselves. Too many damn
>temptations. WTH.

nobody is born with these skills.
some are taught as part of life's experiences. some have the harder
yards of teaching themselves.

I can still remember the old man ****ing himself laughing at something
I was finding difficult to saw. I had the blade in the hacksaw
backwards ...accidently. other than that he was ok.

most of my skills I've learnt by teaching myself. actually bill hannan
used to put an old estonian proverb in his peanuts books.' the work
will teach you how to do it'. it does, helped by the rubbish bin of
quality assurance.

I always feel sorry for the 'gee you're lucky' brigade that have never
dared to fail and thus have never tried.

guys we're doing ok.

Stealth Pilot