Nick from Shady Creek

After a great weekend at the Henry Lawson Festival in Grenfell I felt inspired to have a crack at this poetry thing.......

 

His name was Papadopolous, but he went as Nick the Greek,

Or the bloke who ran the vegie garden down at Shady Creek.

He’d sailed out from the Islands, no money and no ties,

At least ten lifetimes ago in 1925.

 

At Sydney he met Jo from Shady Creek’s elite.

Her Dad a local hero no sport ever saw him beat.

She told Nick about her home’s clear stream and bright sun.

He had nowhere else he had to go, so Shady Creek - well it won.

 

He’d get a job, buy a block and join the Odd Fellows.

He’d raise vegies, work hard, grow old and mellow.

He’d find a wife, settle down and have some children.

He might try to become domesticated even.

 

So Papadopolous decided his life to revise.

Nick the Greek of Shady Creek would be his reprise.

As for a job, Jo’s Dad would be the first he’d ask.

If he was like her, work would be a pleasant task.

 

“Who da hell’s this greasy bloke”, the local hero squawked.

“Nick the Greek.” Said Jo. “He wants a job, a new start.”

“A wog in the shop.” The Hero said. “That ain’t gonna work.

No one’ll understand the curley headed jerk.”

 

“It’s OK Jo.” Said our Greek. “Your Dad doesn’t need the likes of me.

‘Cause I don’t look and sound the part I’ll go to plan B.

All I want’s a patch of dirt by the creek you said was near.

I’ll grow those greens I did at home and sell them to people here.”

 

The Hero snorted, “so the wog thinks he’s gonna steal me trade away?

I’m the local grocer, have been for years and many more I’ll stay.”

“Afraid of a bit of competition?” Asked Nick with a stinging tone.

“Me. I’m afraid of nuffin mate. Fear’s something this Hero don’t know.”

 

Nick replied “Excuse a simple foreign boy who’s not too canny,

But I’m sure “not nuffin” is not in the dictionary

Though, I am no expert and will defer to you.

As you have only one to concentrate on and I unfortunately have two.

 

With anger and steam the hero’s shade and height,

Both elevated sharply to a greater fahrenheit.

“Plant your bloody greens and rubbish, as if I care what you do.

But I don’t know where you’ll get seed – I won’t sell it to you.”

 

“So the land of opportunity is only that for some?

Not to worry, ‘cause I bought seeds from my Greek Mum.

For certain they won’t mind which soil they’re planted in.

And I’m sure the dirt and water will care even less than them.”

 

So what became of Nick the Greek? Much, but especially to note.

He married Jo, had ten kids and for mayor he won the vote.

The hero though never mellowed, acquiesced, forgave or bent.

His pride would not permit it, himself to Coventry he sent.

 

The moral, if there’s one, is around the choices we sometimes make

And if they don’t hit the mark how pride can stop us righting the mistake.

Their real value

Workshop

My workshop is a giant mess. Apart from the usual tools and junk I recently added 70 meters of random length 300mm wide cedar skirting board to the obstacle course. The story goes that the 100 year old boards were removed from a Nursing Home in Cremorne Sydney a couple of decades ago by a fellow who had intended to use them for his building project. This obviously didn’t happen so in search of cash and floor space, he advertised the timber. Even though it was a 6 hour round trip, I couldn’t resist. This will look perfect in our upstairs bedrooms. Picking them up was an adventure, even the satnav had trouble finding the place and on the return trip we were caught in a deluge that would have made Noah think twice. But their story doesn’t end there.

 

I am spending about an hour per metre stripping back several coats of paint and 80 years of grime. Next, they’ll get bundled onto the trailer for the 3 hour ride to our property before being laid out on the back lawn. Finally, like a giant puzzle, we’ll figure out the most economical way to cut the boards so they can be reborn as prized skirting once again. The dollar cost of the boards was pretty low, a couple of dollars a metre – but that's not their real value.

Thought

The value of a man is about $1 in terms of trace elements. Thankfully God doesn’t value us in that way, He looks at us and sees the whole exciting story. Luke 12:6-7 (NIVUK) spells it out.

 

"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

The $64,000 question

Over decades of making things, and making mistakes, I’ve developed a gaggle of questions that I ask myself about a project before I pick up a tool (when I remember that is).  They don’t apply to every job, but they do make me stop and think.

1. Have I done this before? (Hint - usually the answer is "no".)
2. How many do I need?
3. Would construction benefit from an accurate jig or repeatable process?
4. Does it need to interact with (eg fit into, sit on etc) something else?
5. What type or level of finish will it have?
6. What level of precision is required?
7. Does it have a left, right, front, back, top or bottom? (Hint - this is a big one.)
8. What is the ideal tool set and do I have it (and does it matter)?
9. Should I consider buying one instead of making one?
10. Have I really thought this through? (hint - a lot of times the answer is "no".)

It’s not a bullet proof recipe, but it does often bring to light some aspect that I would have otherwise overlooked.

There are also some other questions that I occasionally ask myself.  These have been picked up from various online sources and tweaked by me, for me.  Maybe they will work for you too.

• Where do my thoughts first go when I wake up in the morning?
• What is my greatest worry?
• What, if I can’t have, do I get distressed or anxious about?
• What person or activity do I often find myself anticipating?
• Where do I seek comfort when things get tough?
• What preoccupies my thoughts?
• Where do I find my self-worth or identify?
• What is my greatest hope for the future?

My reasoning is that if God doesn’t somehow feature in at least some of my answers then perhaps I need to reconsider the boundaries around, and balance within, my life.  



A clock comprising a large gas pressure valve, recycled bolts, chain from my Dad's shed and
any hours work.Answering question 7
really took some thought.



Leadlighting

Workshop

One way I while away many enjoyable hours is with lead lighting.  It's amazing how some odd bits and pieces of glass and lead can be turned into something not only useful but beautiful.  The real skill in making a good lead light window is to cut and grind the individual pieces very carefully - with the aim of them fitting together with a consistent gap between them. 

 

A gap?  Yes, there needs to be a space between each piece to accommodate the lead that brings cohesion and structure to the finished window.  Without the lead, you just have a jigsaw of loose pieces lying on the table.

 

Thought

Sounds a bit like a church family doesn't it?  All the pieces, regardless of size and nature, have a part to play.  They must fit closely together.  After all, it's not like other pieces of glass can expand to fill a void.  And the lead - read Romans 12:4-5 and see what you think.

 

"In this way we are like the various parts of a human body. Each part gets its meaning from the body as a whole, not the other way around. The body we’re talking about is Christ’s body of chosen people. Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of his body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn’t amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvellously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t."  Romans 12:4-5 The Message

 

A treasure

I was helping Mum clean out a corner of one of Dad’s numerous back yard sheds a while back when I found a treasure.  Dad was supervising – 84 years gives you that right – when I lifted up an old file handle.

“Chuck that old thing”, Dad said instantly.  But I didn’t have the heart to.

Dad used to sharpen a lot of chainsaws during his sawmilling days and if you’ve ever tried it you’d know that the small tang on the end of a round file is hard on your hands.  That’s where a file handle comes in.  Usually a turned piece of timber it can be transferred to a new file when the old one becomes blunt.

This handle had split a couple of times in its life, probably when it was being hammered onto a new file with gusto.  The split pieces had been nailed back on and then several turns of fencing wire added for good luck at some point.

When Dad looked at this particular handle he saw something broken and useless.  But I saw something that had been thoughtfully repaired so it could continue to serve its original purpose.  Granted, it had some scars, but in many ways they just added to its strength.  Sound familiar?

"Three times I prayed to the Lord about this and asked him to take it away. But his answer was: My grace is all you need, for my power is greatest when you are weak. I am most happy, then, to be proud of my weaknesses, in order to feel the protection of Christ's power over me.  I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and difficulties for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 Good News Translation (GNT)

Red gold

Workshop - I picked up four old matching cedar doors from the Grenfell tip recently.  Picked them up quite literally as they were lying on a big pile of building rubble.  They are pretty rough, with broken glass and 7 or 8 coats of paint ranging from battleship grey, through a festive yellow to a faded eucalypt green.   On the plus side, I've salvaged a couple of locks and four hinges.

Even with all that paint and disguise I could tell they were cedar by the colour and softness of the timber where the paint had chipped off.  Cedar is magnificent, so highly revered by cabinetmakers in the 1800's that it was referred to as "red gold". These doors, with their hand cut mortise and tenons, deep sculptured moulding and delicately applied shellac, would have provided a beautiful entry to the house they were once a part of. But at the rubbish tip, with all that paint and garbage, well, it was pretty difficult to imagine them ever looking very inviting.

Over the years I've stripped a lot of paint with a hot air gun, which in comparison to sanding is quicker and cleaner.   The challenge though is to remove the paint without scorching the raw timber or melting the paint into the grain.  My approach is to hold the hot air gun at a 60 degree angle, 5cm-10cm away from the surface and crank the temperature up to around 500c.  Using a very sharp chisel to lift the paint I direct the airflow about 3cm ahead of the chisel.  Bearing in mind that the idea is to soften the paint not liquefy it, the trick is to keep moving rather than hover on one spot for too long.

It's a slow process that takes 3 to 5 hours a door but eventually the years of paint, dirt and grime fall away to reveal the gem underneath.

Thought  - As Christians our purpose in life is to grow more like Jesus and to achieve that we sometimes need some serious renovating before the gem underneath is revealed.  And just like stripping paint, this isn't an instant process, especially if our true purpose is obscured by a bunch of layers we've spent years building up.  I like how Eugene Peterson put it in his paraphrase, The Message  "...everything connected with that old way of life has to go. It's rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And take on an entirely new way of life -- a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you" (Ephesians 4:22-24 The Message)

My anvil

Workshop - For years I have wanted an anvil, but all the ones I have seen have been way over my tool budget (yes, there is a budget).  That is, until the other week when I spotted an advert for one on Allclassifieds.  The seller, Don, had gone to great lengths to describe his anvil, including its smaller than usual dimensions and rather “used” nature.  He had also priced the anvil at a very fair price.  I called Don, who again pointed out that his anvil was about half the usual size and, being old, had a good few dings.

 

Despite these facts, or to be honest because of them, I agreed to buy it, sight unseen.

Nette and I picked up my “new” anvil the next day after work and it is exactly as Don described it - what a gem.  It’s about 100 years old and came from a farm in Victoria that had once belonged to Don’s family.  Don was retiring and downsizing his workshop so I was more than happy to give his anvil a new home.

Thought - God is pretty big on truth in advertising. Consider Leviticus 19:35 "Don't cheat when measuring length, weight, or quantity” (The Message) or James’ “let your “yes” be yes and your “no” no (James 5:12).   Would being more mindful of these verses change how you act?