This summer, with my dad gone for two years, we’ll be cleaning out my parents’ garage and making it a safe place for the grandchildren to play.
The garage holds camping equipment, bicycles, fishing gear, and snow tires. But for a decade, the garage was primarily my dad’s workshop. It’s where he built wooden cars, puzzles, the high chair our children sat in until they were too big. After he died, our good friend John used the shop to finish a beautiful little box that held my dad’s ashes until his burial.
Last weekend, I spent a little time looking at the shop. This is some of what I saw.