The Workshop

It was a familiar gathering place.  A place where locals gathered to ‘chew the rag’ with Fee.  Or it was a place for the young lads in the family to drink a brew, smoke some fish, or help repair a fishnet or two.  From time to time the ‘lads’ would take hours to discuss anything from politics to people, the former being the most popular.  One of those occasions saw my Dad there with some locals.  The gathering was orchestrated by Fee of course, and to make it interesting started a conversation around politics.  Now that was my Father’s favorite subject.  He and Fee were opposite colors though, so the conversation was lively.  My husband would be there to replenish the drinks and to enjoy the camaraderie.  Fee and Dad did not agree on politics…but they always parted friends.  But I digress.

The workshop was also a place where Gen did her furniture refinishing.  The local ‘convent’ closed and Gen purchased some beautiful bird’s eye maple dressers with mirrors intact.  They of course were black with years and years of varnish.  So as not to harm the finish, she would painstakingly sit with a glass shard wrapped in sandpaper and gently coax the black varnish off the decorative maple beading surrounding the mirror.  With a cigarette precariously dangling from her mouth, she would spend hours laboring over her beloved pastime.  On one such occasion I joined her.  My boyfriend (her 11^th child) was away and I was missing him terribly.  I was home on the weekend to visit my parents and I stopped in to visit Gen and Fee as was my habit.

We sat together.  Her sanding and I talking.  The workshop had that effect on you.  There were no interruptions, or phones ringing to interrupt the quiet chat.  I was missing him and she understood.  She was missing him too.  He would come home from dates with me to find his mother sitting up waiting for him, most likely with insomnia.  They would have peanut butter sandwiches on fresh homemade bread and talk into the wee hours.  They were kindred spirits.  

There was really nobody else who understood me at that time…but her.  Because we shared this lonesome time, we formed a friendship bond that lasted her lifetime.  I will never forget her.  

The workshop.  I wonder how many conversations were had in there.  It is gone now.  The government expropriated the land a while ago to widen the main street into the town.  I always look though, when I drive by.  Sometimes I imagine I can still see it.  I know it is not there, and to my delight, my nephew posted this picture on his facebook page.  

It was a walk back in time.