I have a fear that when I die, I am going to hear my father’s voice telling me that I was a very talented person that failed to achieve my full potential. He’s not wrong. The question is will I be aware of the fact I am dead? I am not entirely convinced of that. One of my fears is that my death will be due to some questionable lifestyle choices or an incident starting with me saying “Guys, watch this” or “I know what I’m doing”. I don’t drink, smoke or do any recreational pharmaceuticals. I do seem to have an unhealthy attraction to the unholy trinity of salt, sugar and fat. And I don’t exercise as I should. The sun is not my friend.
My hope is that I outlive my wife. I swore that I never wanted to cause my wife pain. It would be unfair to leave her behind to clean up all my messes. And she really hates cleaning the litter boxes.
Death doesn’t seem imminent. I just had my annual physical and I am in good heath with all the paper cuts we accumulate as we age. No expectation of death on the horizon.
Why so morose? I was a bit under the weather today and with no family or work pressures to get up and suffer though the day, I stayed in and let the mind freewheel. Not always a good thing but almost always interesting. One of the things blogging has pointed out to me is the loss of cultural references with each passing generation. Krenov, Nakashima and Esherick have all passed in my lifetime. And I hear Roubo and Moxon aren’t doing so well. We have their works and their writings but it’s not the same as having them. And the collective memory of them will be further diminished with the passing of my generation.
Knowledge of Red Skelton, Charlie Chaplin and Mark Twain will continue but the relevance will be diminished. It’s not unique to my generation. I believe that all generations must have the functional equivalence of TMZ and E! TV to distract them, sad as it is. What gets lost is the less famous and notorious. People who were not quite famous enough to be award winners or gain the fame they deserve.
That is the reason that I am thankful to Roy Underhill for his chronicle of Calvin Cobb: Radio Woodworker. It is good to document his incredible life story before he is forgotten. Another debt we owe to Mr. Roy.
This is one person I liked while was alive and died too young. Even if he lived longer, I am not convinced he would have become famous. He was just a nice man with a certain level of talent that exceeds mine. If many of you follow this link, I know not all will be blown away. Some will find him syrupy. I like him and believe he was sincere. If you know him to be a horrible person that beat his parrot, keep it to yourself.
And HERE is the link.
Here is a cute cat picture to lighten the mood.
Today’s contractually obligated furniture content is from The Art Institute of Chicago. We passed through Chicago two years ago when we were delivering my wife to the Culinary Institute of America near Napa, CA.
They had more furniture than I expected. This was a good thing. They had some older decorative arts like this carved chest:
to this more almost contemporary Arts & Crafts clock:
Click HERE for the Chicago set.
I’ll be better tomorrow.