The Old Work Bench

In one of the smaller buildings on the farm there is an old work bench. I’m sure there are many memories pounded into the wood and etched into the tools that have been left here over the years. It now is used for storage of different items no longer in use. When I dig deeper, or just look around, I can find so many memories from the past and they make me wonder what story they would tell.  

It also evokes the memories of my Granddad Livingston. He was always working with his hands, repairing, building, or reshaping something. He had an old barn that was split into 2 rooms downstairs and an upper story. I have no idea what it housed before him, probably animals of some sort, but it was a relatively small structure as far as barns go.

In the first section he stored his car which he lovingly looked after, washing and fine tuning it frequently. I don’t remember the make of his cars but they were always large sedans that nearly filled the whole space of the first room in the barn.  He reminisced about the other vehicles he had owned, including a model T ford and one of the first motorcycles built in his home town of Owego NY where he grew up. The walls were covered with old license plates that he had collected and later donated to a car museum. Also along the walls he had a space for all his tools he used on the cars, plus oil cans and other things used to keep the car running in tip top shape.

The second room in the barn held some of his finer wood working tools along with his father’s old jeweler’s bench and tools.  It also held his grinding wheel for sharpening tools that needed to keep a sharp edge. The wheel was attached to a frame like a bicycle and had a seat to sit on while you peddled to run the grinding wheel. It was fun to pedal but Granddad didn’t appreciate children using this as toy. Along the wall were selves that held his many tins and jars of bolts, nuts, screws, anything that he had found or kept that could be used for some repair. The room had just one window and the afternoon sun would shine through casting shadows and highlighting something different every time I ventured in.

He had added a set of doors and a small ramp so this room could be accessed without going past the car. He stored his lawn mowers and bike here also. I remember that he always had an old push mower that was only powered by whoever pushed it. This was the only mower he ever let anyone else use. He stilled used that mower for all the trim work around the yard.

The upper story held cast off furniture plus many other parts and pieces of household items. It had old bicycles, chairs without arms or springs sticking through, bed frames, old mirrors and so much more. The upper story had windows at either end so the light would shine through the cobwebs and dust, dancing among the treasures.

Outside the barn he had his chopping block for slitting wood and would stack his firewood against the end of the barn. On either side of the doors were hollyhocks that framed the doorway. When the hollyhocks were in bloom I could make dolls from the blossoms, sometimes floating them in the creek that flowed next to yard.

  I wish I had taken more pictures before the barn was emptied and the property sold. I can still call to mind some of the images but some are foggy and getting harder to remember. To me this special barn speaks to me about my Granddad and all that was the most important to him. He always found a use for, and never threw away, anything that could be repaired or repurposed. He found the beauty in wood, stone, metal; things that others would’ve seen as junk. I sometimes think I can feel my Granddad at the old work bench on the farm and if he was there he would be cleaning it up and making it a special place for anything that with just a little repair could be useful again.

Written: 3-20-18