{"id":250,"date":"2010-06-30T20:49:20","date_gmt":"2010-07-01T00:49:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.woodturningpens.com\/?p=250"},"modified":"2010-06-30T20:49:20","modified_gmt":"2010-07-01T00:49:20","slug":"bonding-turning","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.woodturningpens.com\/bonding-turning\/","title":{"rendered":"Bonding through Turning"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
In the Beginning (with a Disclaimer)<\/h2>\n
To be clear from the beginning and to leave no room for claims of being misleading, this article is not about a nifty new way to adhere brass cylinders to pen blanks or an improved method for chucking up a bowl blank. Instead, this is about the magic that turning can bring to our lives even when no wood or other material is actively being worked.<\/p>\n
I have the great good fortune to be the son of a man who is easily the epitome of fatherhood. My Dad’s number one focus throughout his adult life has been the happiness and security of his family. Before serving his own interests or desires, Dad always made sure that my sister, my Mom, and I all had what we needed AND wanted, and it seemed, and may in fact be the case, that his ultimate desires were ours. We each pursued divergent interests and hobbies, but perhaps sadly, none of us really attached to his passion for woodworking, very fine high-end cabinetry, construction, and ultimately, wood turning.<\/p>\n
Over 15 years ago, at least, my Dad presented me one Christmas with a small bowl turned from a piece of Manzanita wood, and a wooden pen complete with a custom case he made using a router and some unique hinges, the likes of which I wouldn’t see again for many years. As always, I was in awe of the pieces Dad could produce. At the time, I had no idea how a bowl was made, or how a piece of wood could be transformed into a pen! But I accepted that Dad could perform wizardry with wood whenever he set his mind to it. I was, and remain, the very proud owner of original pieces of furniture made by Dad, including the same desk I used in elementary school, a chest of drawers, a bed headboard, and a red leather Morris chair masterpiece. All of these items are in daily use in my home, many years after their creation, and nothing could ever replace them in my heart. To visit either of my parents’ homes is to marvel at the ultra-fine custom cabinetry, especially in the kitchens, but even in the workshop or laundry room as well. The problem with all of this is that I am not for certain that Dad ever understood how amazing and awesome I thought his skills and talents were since I never seemed to have the vocabulary to express my admiration.<\/p>\n