Nearly six years ago Donna and I moved from Newberg Oregon to Butler, Pennsylvania. The move was a new beginning, with new geography, new shopping, new home, new friends. Church introduced us to Clyde and Heritha Davis, an older couple who welcomed us into their home. Friendship was instant. We visited regularly.
Our new home lacked what was most important to someone who loves to cook, an adequate kitchen. Additional cabinets and a countertop were a must. Contractor prices were mind boggling. Could I make cabinets? Despite having no prior experience, I jumped into the project.
Clyde Davis was a blessing. He was a life-long professional woodworker, a true artisan, a master craftsman. During my visits, he was generous with his knowledge. As I equipped my shop, he made recommendations. You’ll want one of these. Get one of those. He asked about equipment. “What brand of table saw did you buy?”
As my shop came together and I began to produce, I’d take pieces with me when visiting Clyde. He’d hold one of my cabinet doors in his hand, feel the finish, look closely, scrutinize the joints and offer advice. When he said, “That’s nice,” I considered the source and took it as high praise. This pattern continued as my list of projects expanded.
Yesterday I put the finishing touches on my most ambitious project to date, a new entry way door for our home. I stood and admired the finished product. I marveled at the transformation from 9-foot rough-cut lumber to an eye-catching portal. I did what Clyde would have done. I ran my hand across the silky-smooth finish. I inspected the joints. I marveled at the exquisite grain of the Brazilian Cherry wood. Then I said, “That’s nice.”
Tomorrow I’ll attend an intimate graveside service and bid a heart-felt goodbye to Clyde Davis. The world has lost a good man. I’ve lost a good friend and a mentor.
