Blog Post

Oh, The Stories It Could Tell: Part 2

10/7/2021

Oh the Stories It Could Tell

My grandpa liked this story. It made me happy that he read it! 

I don’t know why he loved it so much. In the moment I was so flattered I don’t know if he told me or if I didn’t hear it, but now it is a memory I wish I would have kept.

I wish I had. 

You see, my Grandpa passed away recently. He has a lot of people that will miss him terribly.

That is why I missed the last blog post date and this one has been so hard to write. 

I decided to deviate from the Adventure Shop for this one post and dedicate it to my Grandpa. 

Grandpa, thank you for encouraging a love for lost things and giving them new purpose. This story is for you! 

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Oh The Stories It Could Tell: Part 2:

The young girl ran through the expansive backyard. It was a jungle of parts, wood, equipment, tools, as well as odds and ends. Sitting in the middle was a beautiful tree that looked very out of place.

On the other side of the yard sat a little wooden play house, another smaller tree, a little wooden playground, & quite often five fairly muddy children.

One of those children was a little girl who proudly held a tool from her Grandpa’s shed. She held the precious object out for her four companions to see, but not touch.

Now they had something to finally get the water out of the huge basin. They would soon be able to add to their muddy creations. With the tool the little girl was able to get the grate off that was keeping them from the much desired water below. 

They threw down the bucket and got the water and went to make their delicacies of dirt and weeds.

The little girl went to put up the tool and as she did she caught a glimpse of someone.

They were happy, the girl knew this was a gift. 

The vision faded as she turned and saw her Grandpa standing behind her.

“What did you see?” He asked.

“A person. They were happy.”

“You need to be careful. Sometimes the people are not happy.” He smiled, “I thought I told you not to steal my tools.” 

The little girl smiled in return, “You did.”

“Will you ever listen?” 

“I will try, but maybe not?”

“Oh ho! I see!” He laughed at her response.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~A woman put down the tool that held the memory and walked around the shop and picked up another leading her to a new memory.

The Grandpa from the first memory was working in the backyard on a new project with an assortment of pieces that did not originally go together.

The little girl now a young woman walked out to the backyard, “What are you working on?” She asked.

“Fixing this shelf so it will pull out flat for all your grandmother’s pots and pans.”

The shelf was a mixture of ingenuity, J-B Weld, and a few spare parts.

All of his projects seemed to be with things others had gotten rid of and he had repurposed. 

“Why do you always use things people get rid of? Wouldn’t it be better to use something new?”

“No. It would not. Well not in every case. These pieces fit just perfectly for what I needed them for. And they are being useful again.”

“Grandpa, what was the vision I saw when I was little? Who was that person.”

“That was me when I was little. It was my first tool. It belonged to my dad. I was older than you were when I found out about my gift.”

“The gift to see people’s pasts?”

“The gift to see their stories and for a moment to share in it because of what they leave behind. I didn’t want you to use my tools because you never put them back, and because I didn’t want you to be affected by some difficult stories.”

“Can you show me how to see? I want to know how to see them.”

“It is more than just seeing stories. The objects you touch hold those remnants of people you can see, and when they don’t have such happy memories I like to give them a new future.”

“You keep on passing on the object to collect new stories?”

“Yes, giving it a new life and a new purpose. Let me show you how to do it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~The woman set down the current tool she held and found her business card. The card had the address and phone number to her very own store. 

She touched the card seeking what life and stories it held. She began to see the memory of the older man and herself standing in the doorway of her store.

“Close your eyes! No peeking! I swear now I know where my mom gets it!” The young woman laughed. 

Grabbing his arm she lead him to the middle of the shop.

“Now open!” She shouted excitedly.

Her Grandpa opened his eyes, as he took in the view his eyes teared up. 

On the shelves, the floor, the walls, every inch was covered in antique items and some items he could tell she had recently acquired from this century.

“This is my shop. I started it because of you. Now all of the objects can keep collecting stories and people can keep sharing their stories and memories. Each one I see is important and I love seeing them. The stories are so special. I am so thankful to see so many things”

“This place is wonderful.”

“I am giving old things, broken things, and things that never got a chance a new purpose. Because that is what you taught me. That no matter what anything or anyone can have a new purpose and keep collecting stories.”

Her Grandpa teared up, “Never stop believing in that principal. Be patient with people and always stand by their side. Everything that is broken can be fixed with a little duck tape.” The light in his eyes showed the last part was his way of making a joke as he usually did and she laughed.

Subtle and clever, waiting for someone to catch it. That was her Grandpa.

She showed him around, stopping almost at every object showing her teacher how she studied what he taught her all those years ago as he beamed with pride. 

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The woman set down the card and ran her hand along the old work bench and wiped a tear from her eye. 

“Thank you Grandpa,” she said talking to the empty shop, his workshop where he worked on so many things, “for everything you taught me. For all those times we talked, you listened and then gave your wise opinion. Even when it was trivial you took time to listen to me. You believed in me, when I didn’t believe in myself. I will always be thankful for you teaching me to always give things in life a new purpose. Thank you for inspiring my love of objects and tools. I will always love tinkering around like you did. Even if I am not as good at recreating. I will miss you so much.”

His empty shop did not respond. So she picked up a tool, “For old times sake, huh? One last tool that I am taking from your shop.” She said looking down at the tiny hammer, “And I promise I will give this new stories for generations to come.” 

She looked around his shop one last time. Promising herself to always remember the Grandpa who gave new purpose to things and most importantly to people that others overlooked. 

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My family and I have lost an inspiring mentor and guide. I can not describe what my Grandpa meant to me, he was a person who was always willing to teach, to listen, to mentor, and repurpose. To everyone he met he took the time to get to know them and their story. 

In memory of my wonderful Grandpa, whose story I will always keep telling. 

I love you Grandpa!