|Project by EzJack||posted 12-14-2010 12:57 AM||1708 views||0 times favorited||14 comments|
Over 100 years ago his dad died at sea. Buried off New York never to see England again. Only one of the boy’s could go on to higher education and become a lawyer. The other went to trade school and this mallet was his first tool. The resentment was just a seed then so he still could be excited enough that when he received his name stamp he stamped his mallet 8 times. A cross pattern on both the handle ends, once on each flat side of the handle, and a couple more on the top of the head. All his other tools bare only one stamp. In his final days he told my father that his resentment of his brothers professional life and his of labor was a splinter that he could never pull.
I pulled the splinter for I find great pleasure in that which he was forced to do.
The Bloody Splinter
-- Ain't better or worse than any other woodpecker in the woods.