The Measure of a Man

I had an uncle by marriage who was a master carpenter. One day, long after he had retired, we were talking and I mentioned the old adage, “measure twice, cut once.” He laughed and said his adage was, “measure right, cut once.” Makes sense, if you have the confidence, experience, and ability he had.


I don’t.


His words came to mind as I was in my workshop this morning, where I am trying to build an entertainment center from scratch. I found a fairly-easy looking plan, it’s even called “rustic,” which means it will be more forgiving than most pieces, minor flaws being part of the so-called charm. I have the necessary tools, and some experience with what’s called for.


So I’ve been down there, carefully measuring (twice), and cutting the pieces that will need to be assembled. I then laid them out as they would go together and looked at the plans. Something didn’t make sense, I thought. The pieces didn’t quite work. After pondering a bit, I discovered I had made one of the most basic errors possible -- in measuring four pieces to be cut from a 2x4 board, I had carefully measured and remeasured, but I had misread either the plans or the ruler, and instead of 9 and ¾ inches long, each piece was 6 and ¾ inches long. If it had been the other way around I could have just cut the long ones shorter, but this means I must buy another 2x4.


Ah well. While that may be the measure of me as a woodworker,I hope it’s not the measure of me as a man..


Thinking again about my uncle, he had quite nice workshop in his basement and would do some personal projects down there after he retired. But he was a perfectionist, and when he reached the point at which he could no longer do the fine detail work he wanted, he quit. Sold the tools and never did any woodworking again. Though he left quite a legacy -- he built his own house and various other things for his family -- and he also has the anonymous legacy of all the projects he worked on around town.


I’ll never have quite the same legacy. But I have some; I’ve built three bookcases, a secretary for the top of a desk, a printer stand, a night stand, and a couple benches, plus refinished tables and re-furbishing an outdoor screened porch, and so on. Nothing fancy or unusual, but enough that sometimes get a flash of pride when I see them.


Something else about them, too. I have this unspoken hope inside that when I am gone, my daughter will keep one of the pieces and someday someone will ask her about it, and she can tell them I built it and be again reminded of me. Or that she will sometimes touch it on her own, and let it conjure up a few memories.


And maybe, just maybe, in reliving those memories she will smile fondly, if a bit sadly, and miss me. If I can accomplish that, then I will have lived up to what I consider to be the measure of a man.