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Pop’s Pot
Pop’s Pot
By
Cognitive Dissonance
While rummaging around in my computer files this afternoon I came across this little piece that I had written more than two years ago and never posted, probably because I didn’t think it was relevant to what was going on at the time. Either way I dragged it out, dusted it off and now serve it up with a smile and warm memories.
By the way, the friend I mention in the piece below soon became Mrs. Cog.
After loading up the SUV with nearly a dozen boxes of cloths, knick knacks and other household items and then traveling several miles, only then did I first hear it rattling behind me. When I asked, my friend informed me in a matter-of-fact tone of voice that it was just Pop’s Pot making all that racket back there. After promising her the rattle would drive me to distraction if it wasn’t silenced, she assured me she would properly secure it when we stopped at the next light, a promise that was quickly kept and the noise soon forgotten.
While driving the remaining half hour to our destination my friend delivered up a primer on the genealogy of Pop’s Pot, with all the really interesting details filled in the next day. ‘Pop’ was Grandpa on her father’s side, one of four Baden, Germany heritage boys (no girls). Born a US citizen in 1887 (because his parents emigrated to America several years earlier) Pop was a World War I veteran who served with honor as a quartermaster before returning home to the States to work as a carpenter, back when homes were hand built by skilled craftsmen who toiled all their lives to better their honorable tradecraft.
My friend told me of delicious childhood memories from more than 40 years ago of Pop spending countless hours in the kitchen cooking Sauerbraten, essentially beef marinated for days on end before the process of low heat slow cooking in Pop’s kettle could even begin. The finished product, the most tender and delectable beef she had ever eaten was then served up with potato dumplings (Kartoffelklösse) and other traditional German side dishes to the gathered friends and family. If Pop was cooking, most likely (extended) family was near. The only casualty when Pop cooked up a storm was the kitchen itself, which always took heavy collateral damage and was rarely cleaned up by Pop himself. Such is the privilege of age.
During Pop’s later retirement years (he lived a long and full life of 93 years) he rotated through three of his four children’s homes to live, stopping at one for three to five years before moving on to the next. This enabled him to spend many summers on the Jersey shore, a place he dearly loved to visit right up to his passing. While Pop always packed light and had only a few worldly possessions other than his clothes and personal property, his kettle always traveled with him from home to temporary home, ready to be pulled out and fired up in order to prepare any number of favorite dishes. The old quartermaster always made sure he came equipped to fend for himself as well as for those who crossed the threshold to visit.
When we reached our destination the big aluminum kettle was scooped up with the rest of the load and dumped on the living room floor for sorting and disposition as soon as everything else was in. There perched on top of three large boxes of clothes was Pop’s Pot, its lid askew and severely misshapen and several medium to large dents clearly visible in the side of the kettle itself. It was obvious that the old war horse had been damaged through the decades, though I had seen worse in my own kitchen a couple of times during my lifetime. But despite its battered appearance I did not look closely because I’d been assured that the pot was capable of cooking tomorrow’s meal, my friend’s special recipe chili.
However when examined more closely in the light of the day ten hours later, my friend was no longer certain that the pot was serviceable or even salvageable for that matter. The lid was distorted and would not sit flat on its perch, leaving a half inch opening on one side and a quarter inch gap on the other. Worse, something heavy had either been dropped on or smashed into the lid, with the impact deeply denting the soft aluminum in two spots opposite of each other. This rough handling left the impression that the lid was snarling at the world, angry at its poor treatment since Pop passed away more than 30 years ago.
The kettle itself was about 11 or 12 quarts in capacity and of substantial thickness, but still very light precisely because it was made of a high quality yet soft aluminum. The good news was that the kettle was in slightly better condition than the lid, but still pretty beaten up. Thankfully the thickest surface, the bottom of the pot itself, was not significantly damaged or dented. This turned out to be a blessing because if the base is not flat the pot won’t properly conduct heat on today’s modern ceramic flattop cook surfaces.
But the sides showed evidence of several hard knocks and years of rough handling. In fairness to the present caretaker, the aluminum is very soft and prone to dents and dings, especially in the hands of an athletic and active family. I imagine that at times the kettle stood in as a substitute play toy for the younger members of her now nearly grown family. We all know how pets and young children like to climb into boxes and small spaces, psychological protection from a sometimes cold and capricious world. My mother tells me that way back when, one of her big pots served as a winter sled for the youngest and smallest in my own family.
I asked if I could check out Pop’s Pot more closely after I was told it most certainly wasn’t going to be used to prepare the afternoon meal and was probably beyond repair as well. Examined more closely, I was immediately struck by how the pot and lid looked like an old craggy face, one we would immediately associate as filled with character; extremely weather beaten, deeply wrinkled and almost wise looking.
Testing a small flat surface of the lid for flexibility I was immediately surprised how malleable the old aluminum was in my hands. With some effort I could bend it with my fingers. Instantly I thought to myself that they had better use a stronger aluminum alloy when they build those jet airplanes or I would never fly again.
My inspection of Pop’s Pot was interrupted when my friend showed me an old cake dish and matching interlocking cover, one of those quality pieces that’s heavy in hand and made to last, a favorite of hers that had also been rescued from storage the day before. Unfortunately the flange on the bottom of the cover only locked into two of the three raised lips on the base. Looking more closely I saw that one of the lid flanges had been bent out of position, probably when it was dropped while being cleaned or transported.
Realizing that this piece was constructed from far stronger material than Pop’s Pot, but that it was definitely fixable, I cast about in the tool bin in search of a hammer and something to pound on, finally fishing out a hefty flat crow bar and framing hammer. Enlisting my friend’s help to hold the cake pan cover steady on the kitchen table with the damaged section hanging off the edge (the table surface was carefully protected by a folded towel) I placed the flat bar under the bent flange to act as an anvil and then slowly pounded down the upturned edge.
In just a few minutes we had transported the damaged cake pan and cover back to near perfect condition. And best of all, my friend was immediately pleased and delighted by the repair and resurrection. What seemed so simple and obvious to me, the ability to use simple metal working tools, was magic to her.
Seeing her delight from witnessing a form of cold forging brought me new perspective on how my life experience and understanding colors my world view when compared to others of like mind but different experience. At times we think things are impossible simply because we have little experience with what is possible. Immediately my mind flashed back to Pop’s Pot. Maybe we could restore the old war horse as well?
I returned to the old kettle to finish my examination and to ponder restoration while my friend filled me in on the finer details of its long journey to her custody nearly eighteen years ago. While the modern on-the-run family is less prone to cook long and involved meals in a kettle these days (today the electric crock-pot reigns supreme as the new all purpose cook kettle) my friend has used Pop’s Pot to prepare many stews, soups, batches of chili and even the occasional pot roast for her family. So the kettle has suffered the normal, and not so normal, wear and tear of the modern kitchen used by several (not-so-careful) cooks during its stay in her home.
Seeing the concern on her face and the distress in her voice that she would be the one to retire such a wonderful family heirloom only served to double my determination to do what I could to breathe new life into Pop’s Pot. Once again working as a team, with her holding the lid while I reshaped the soft aluminum with both the hammer and my hands and fingers, we were quickly able to flatten the lid so that it would now properly seat. We were also able to greatly diminish the scars left behind by the heavy impacts previously described.
Setting aside the lid and taking up the kettle I could see that decades of heating and cooling had baked on a rough uneven patina of grease and grime that was deeply embedded under the rolled rim and into the creases created by the manufacturing process. Looking even closer I could see discoloration in the very pores of the aluminum itself which had become subtly pitted and scared over the years by God knows what chemical combinations, natural or otherwise.
I decided to tackle the biggest dents first and to the distress of my friend I placed the pot on the folded towel on the table and picked up the hammer to begin taping out the first dent. This approach was rapidly vetoed by my friend out of fear for the kitchen table underneath and rather than explain that the blows applied would be gentler than those applied to the cake pan, I immediately looked for another solution.
I quickly realized that the top of my thigh would serve the same purpose, with the softer muscle tissue acting to cushion the hammer impacts while affording some give to allow the metal to gently deform back into place with the underlying bone acting as ultimate support. My friend looked dubious but didn’t object, though I suspect she thought an emergency room visit was just around the corner. This method quickly proved effective and within 10 minutes the kettle was looking as good as I could get it considering the crude tools and working conditions.
The final act of restoration was a good hard scrub with pre-soaped steel wool pads and plenty of elbow grease, a task we shifted back and forth to each other as we tired and took a break. An old beat up kitchen knife, sharp edge pointed away to protect the foolish, was employed to dig out some of the more stubborn grime lodged under the rim and in the various cracks and crevasses. After thirty minutes of scrub-a-dub-dub we were both very surprised how nice both pot and lid looked. I couldn’t believe it was the same beat up old wreck we had started with just an hour earlier.
Best of all, while working together we were able to discuss what it was we were actually doing, which was far more than simple metal repair. Pop’s Pot represented so much more than just an object imbued with the family history. It carried within it a collage of memories that ran much deeper than just my friend’s. Her children and extended family have also seen, and used, the kettle during family gatherings. Everyone in the extended family knows about Pop’s Pot, if only by sight and/or legend.
Not only were we repairing the old damage inflicted over the decades, but we were beginning a new chapter in Pop’s Long Conversation with his extended family. By repairing the damage, then using the newly refurbished kettle to prepare yet another family meal, we were continuing the Long Conversation begun more than half a century ago, only this time with new commitment and resolve.
While Pop’s Pot had served her well over the last two decades, my friend was now giving back in order to continue carrying it all forward through her branch of the family tree. What had just an hour earlier been seen as a Broken Connection was now not only repaired, but renewed and reinvigorated with her mind and spirit. And soon enough with the minds of those who remember Pop and everything Pop and his generation represented.
Above all else, for my dear friend and me, this magical metamorphosis was a confirmation that Remembering to Remember involves more than just Remembering what has been and can still be, but that we must be proactive in creating our own reality. Life is meant to be created and then lived, not served up by others. If we don’t construct our own reality, a decidedly less appetizing and distorted reality will be served up for us. Thus the lesson delivered and received by Pop’s Pot that fine fall afternoon.
01-18-2014
Cognitive Dissonance
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A pleasure to read this blog again, thanks to the self confidence of CD to take personal responsibility and in doing so to bring out the goodness in those around him in their responses.
Thank you all from Southern Chile
Grin Bagel (the Japanese pronunciation of my name)
Thanks, CD. I enjoyed and appreciated your article.
Thank you for your (late) comment. I always come back the day after posting to see if anyone is still around. :)
CD, how about two days later. I posted above to answer Swmnguy, but thanks for all you do. This article is one of your best and thank you for sharing.
A few years ago I had to clear out my parents' house after they both went into care homes.
One of the things I kept was a cheese grater that was a wedding gift to my dad's great-grandmother - must be at least 120 years old - still the best cheese grater I've ever used. I also have a cast iron hand-cranked meat mincer from her. Worthless, really, but treasured.
"Worthless, really, but treasured."
Worthless (maybe) as long as the power is on. Just sayin'.
Expect the unexpected because in a complex world the dominoes are not stacked in our favor. While we may be incredibly advanced, it all hinges around power delivered to the wall plugs. If that fails the vast majority of 'us' in the modern world have no concept in the least how to survive. You at least have a hand-cranked meat mincer. That will be worth its weight in Gold if the unthinkable, but entirely possible, happens.
Pop's Pot, Wabi Sabi.
Throw this into the pot full of provoked thoughts...
I wonder what my kids and grandkids (we don't have any grandkids yet) will want that belongs to me after I'm gone?
Interesting...I think I know what it is; something essentially worthless unless you know what it is
(sorry for the babble...if my Grandfather saw the tree I just dropped on the ground...he would've beat my a$$. If I keep up these chainsaw stunts I will be gone before long lol! Confession: I need a breather! What a rush!)
".....sorry for the babble...if my Grandfather saw the tree I just dropped on the ground...he would've beat my a$$."
Same here.....though I should beat my own ass.
Just spent the last two hours cutting down a tree and bucking it into bite sized pieces for the wood stove boiler. Unfortunately the locust got caught up with some other nearby trees and didn't want to come down the easy way. Very dangerous. Worse, it was a bit windy so I was reluctant to get too close to rope it up and pull it down. That tree right there was a widow maker in the wrong hands and those wrong hands almost were mine. Idiot me.
Am I just not seeing it, or didn't you use a wedge? Man, ask around the local firefighters for someone who helps you. Is that an oak? It could have slayed you! Let someone teach you, it's not difficult to learn.
I did use a tree wedge and it started to fall perfectly. But the vines and two other trees wouldn't let go of the canopy. It didn't take much to bring it down once I could get it moving a bit. It never built up momentum before getting snagged. I am not clear cutting and I must work around other trees that are staying. It complicates matters quite a bit.
A neighbor of mine has permission to take all the Locust on this 10 acre lot owned by a third party. However my neighbor is older and very sick at the moment, but still needs the wood now. So I made a deal with my sick neighbor. I cut the wood and split it with him. One load for him, one load for me. Since I don't need to harvest my own trees for wood, thus saving my land, and my neighbor gets plenty of wood despite him being very sick and the third party gets his land cleared of the Locust that he doesn't want, it is a win-win-win situation.
I find that if I consistently do the right thing with the right intentions I tend to find myself in win-win-win situations.
You need to winch it down without clipping your roof.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIMWDw51Pj4
This guy is a one man logger in BC and has a good example of how to get a winch on it without killing yourself, maybe even save you for some shingle work.
Interesting that you would link to WranglerStar. I've been watching his videos for some time now. He is a very talented person, a true craftsman, with a wonderful teaching manner as well as a wealth of information. I love his videos.
But just don't put any fluids in his hands because he spills them all over the place. I saw one video where he was gassing up his chainsaw and he spilled more than he put in the saw. Another time he was pouring bar oil and the same thing happened. I now close my eyes any time he has a liquid in his hand. :)
WranglerStar will be a continuously featured video on my new website coming soon.
LOL! It's true. Yeah he's got the knack of a lot of stuff, liquids not so much.
Yeah, maybe that is just a very german attitude, but I think you always have to mind safety first, since it will do no good if you get hurt. It may take time - but if you are unlucky one single time, it hasn't been worth all the times it went well. The win-win-win situation depends on you being healthy, if I got that right.
Mom....is that you? :)
No, but if you have german ancestors .... who'd know ... :)
Damn Virginia wild grape. Big as your wrist and twice as strong.
Cut a notch in the directions you want it to fall, knock that wedge out, and back cut the other side slightly higher to reduce the strength until she falls. That may not work either, but your neighbors will be impressed;)
"Damn Virginia wild grape. Big as your wrist and twice as strong."
Fool that I am, I have been spending time over the last few months cutting unbelievably thick Kudzu vines that are just killing the trees both on my property and those all around me. These vines average 2-3 inches in diameter. I even have an article written up about it to post soon.
I found three trees on a neighbors land with a Kudzu vine 5 inches in diameter. Not around, but in diameter. Unbelievable. The small grouping of trees was totally engulfed by a maze of Kudzu vines that were all feeding off this one 5 inch vine.
Are you in my yard? Am I in yours?
The vines just don't let go. Wedges in two trees lol!
An old sawyer told me...if you can't keep your thumbs locked on the bar at all times...don't do it.
That's where I draw the line. All done. Beer time!
[edit: I wore my helmet and chaps. Did you? ;-)]
I need some chaps but have been putting it off for other priorities.
I tend to be very careful with the pointy end of the saw. But on the other hand the chaps are there for just that one time when it all goes wrong and chain meets leg.
^^
Keep your eye on 'em Mrs. Cog!
Chisel chain vs vs. human wins every time.
Geoff Lawton, the permaculture cat, says the #1 cause of death in his neck of the woods is:
CHAINSAWS
get yourself some chaps, chap
(especially since you got yourself an entire forest of free wood)
...and Geoff Lawton knows his stuff
We can cross that off the list. Cog just puchased chaps online, will be here Tuesday. Thanks guys. :-)
Mrs. Cog said no to the pretty pink ones and I vetoed the day-glow orange. We settled on Navy.
Yesterday when I stopped at the place I bought the saw from to pick up a few things the guy tried to sell me $125 chaps. I said no. You guys then chimed in on getting chaps. Suddenly I saw a trend. Then I clicked on a random WranglerStar video and it was about........wait for it......a chain saw accident (at 7:26) that didn't cut his leg because he was wearing chaps.
Yup....I got the message loud and clear folks.
maybe you can take up long boarding
just to keep the risk going
Good man!
We watch out for our own here at Zero Hedge. The picture you put up looks *exactly* like the terrain I was working yesterday. Mrs. chunga went out for supplies due to another round of "polar vortex" headed our way. Then I'm going to show her your picture. I just hope she doesn't notice I was cutting two trees at once while smacking two wedges like a samurai lol. Being by myself...um...probably not too smart. (I did nail my hinges though ha ha)
You DO have steel-toed boots right?
Love, Mom
Beautiful stuff. It's all about humanity and REAL things.
I love it.
Cooking acidic foods in an aluminum pot? I wouldn't.
More than half of the cookware on the market today is made from aluminum. This is because aluminum is a good conductor of heat and is used frequently with non-stick pots and pans. The makers of aluminum cookware warn against storing highly acidic or salty foods in aluminum cookware. Foods such as tomato sauce or citrus fruits that are in contact with cookware for a long period of time will absorb aluminum. Aluminum foil has the same effect and should be avoided for storing acidic or salty foods. Is cooking in aluminum dangerous? It is unlikely that significant amounts of aluminum are released from aluminum cookware. The amount of aluminum found in foods cooked in aluminum pots is much lower than the amount usually found in foods, medicines and antiperspirant. It is important, however, to make sure the surface of the cookware is undamaged.
Nice story. Reminds me of Bruce's story about the illegal alien kid. Sounded nice on the surface, but made Bruce look like a pervert stalker if you read it another way. Bottom line, CD, I wouldn't make chili etc in that pot.
I completely agree that we should be aware of the abundant presence and effects of aluminum. It is everywhere around us and just about impossible to avoid. In reality, we are exposed to many times the multiple of aluminum than that from the occasional feast whipped up in Pop's pot. I would venture to guess that pot is far less a threat than the teflon cookware most have in their kitchens and just a drop in the bucket to the amount of aluminum we put on or into our bodies on a daily basis.
From Mrs. Cog's Corner on the new website (under Chelation):
Aluminum, now shown to cause Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s to name a few (good clinical links at the bottom of this article), is in products all around us. It’s in our deodorants, cookware, and drinking water. Here is a list of specific brands you may use which contain aluminum. There is even aluminum in the air we breathe.
... a good conversation about aluminum cookware: http://www.finishing.com/225/51.shtml
As usual CD a most excellent post from which much can be learned. Got's to say I laughed out loud when I read,
"I quickly realized that the top of my thigh would serve the same purpose, with the softer muscle tissue acting to cushion the hammer impacts while affording some give to allow the metal to gently deform back into place with the underlying bone acting as ultimate support. My friend looked dubious but didn’t object, though I suspect she thought an emergency room visit was just around the corner. "
How many times have such realizations resulted in my going, "damn that was an ouchie," with my loved one standing there just shaking her head, while friends roll on the ground laughing.
But then thats what it is all about isn't it. We like pots, take our beatings and continue to try and be useful. We fail, we succeed, like a pot building character.
"But then that's what it is all about isn't it. We like pots, take our beatings and continue to try and be useful. We fail, we succeed, like a pot building character."
Too funny. I don't live life as much as survive life by my own hand. Thank God we have lots of Band-Aids around here.
Wonderful story Cog , most would not take the effort to attempt to fix an old heirloom like this. Then again, that pot is much more than an heirloom sitting on a shelf or tucked away in a drawer or something, it has served as a tool of survival in actually creating sustinance for countless empty bellies. A wise investment on your part , it will help ignite memories of far flung relations invited to your home and eating a meal prepared in that pot...'remember when'....etc. surely a better choice than scrapping it for a few bucks. You have a great way of putting down on paper the repair process itself, I found myself nodding in agreement as you described how you went about fixing it, figuring thats how I'd play round one of the repair job. It's good to see you settled in and writing again and I look forward to your new blog. It's simple stuff like this that keeps and will continue to keep our own little realities intact...peace
don't tell me you don't have a before the repair
picture of that pot. you do realise that the piece
you wrote conjures up that image as the centerpiece
and you are substituting the image of the elderly
gentleman. i, for one, want more pot porn!
i can appreciate the possibility that it may be
a private image that only family has eyes to see
but you might consider the prurient tendencies of
the greater interweb audience.
sheesh...
Pot porn... too funny! (Had to google prurient lol)
I don't think we took a picture of the before but I will check. If not, I can always run outside and snap a picture of my truck which is quickly morphing into the state of Pop's pot before repairs. Perhaps these discussions about "fixing" things will inspire Cog to turn his attention toward that next <hint hint>. In his defense I have a pretty extensive "honey-do" list for him which I update regularly. :-)
keep at him with the list, i'm sure he appreciates it!
?
i like to say "if you want something done right
you have to do it yourself." that's what i say
to myself when i know my wife is out of the room
but in ear shot.
.
she laughs at that too.
I never took a 'before' picture because I never considered I would write an article about it. Quite frankly I did not expect it to turn out so well. We were both so pleased with the results that I snapped some 'after' pictures. A week later I decided to write about it, then shelved the article for various reasons.
I'm glad I dug it out and posted the piece.
Thanks, CD.
Some of the simplest things help remind us who we are and how much things have changed.
One of my great grandfathers came over from Germany at the age of 3 and lived to be 93.
I always wondered how they got that generation to fight against Germany. Strange world.
I'm reminded of my Dad's clock. It's an Elias Ingraham dew-drop calendar clock, probably made in the 1890s. Somebody gave it to my father's grandfather at some point. Something went wrong with it in the 1930s and it went into my father's parents' attic. When my father got married and was making his own household, he took that clock and got it repaired and hung it on the wall in his new home. He and his wife move frequently, and everywhere they went the clock was the first thing placed in the new house.
He got divorced, lived alone, met my mother, remarried and started having (lots of) kids, and we moved a lot, and everywhere we moved, the first thing we had to do was find the "right" place for the clock. It couldn't be near the wall under the stairs, because kids running up and down the stairs would jostle the clock and it wouldn't keep correct time. Not on an exterior wall because here in the North the clock might get too cold and shrink. It couldn't be where kids throwing things might break the glass windows on it. Couldn't be in the kitchen because grease or too much humidity would wreck the clock.
It wasn't Sunday afternoon until my Dad wound the clock. I have a vague memory of being maybe three years old, and in it I can hear the clock (must have been 1969?). When I visit my parents, the first thing I hear is the clock, but almost immediately I can't hear it. When I've gone to check on their house while they're gone for the winter, I can hear the silence of the clock not running, but if I wind it, I immediately can't hear it. I found an old cassette tape somebody in our family recorded during a family Christmas, and amid all the voices of children now grown, there's that clock.
A couple winters ago while the parents were in Florida, I took the clock to a clocksmith in Minneapolis who came highly recommended. He examined it and told me it was really dirty inside and needed a good cleaning and a few replacement bushings, as some of the connections were getting worn and eventually the works would come apart. I spent about $400 getting it all fixed up and took it back. In the spring my father asked me what the clocksmith had done and I told him. He said, "Couldn't have been that dirty, I just had it cleaned not too long ago." My mother insisted it had been a while, and the bickering ensued as to when that had happened. They narrowed it down to when that must have happened, as an old couple will, and it had to have been about 1965. So, not too long ago, right?
I have 8 younger siblings, the youngest over 20 years younger than I. I moved out when I was almost 17. When my parents re-did their will there were still a number of young kids in the house. I told them I wanted custody of all minor children, and the clock. They asked, "Nothing else?" I said anything beyond that could be worked out if the subject came up. Now all those kids are married adults, so now all I want is the clock.
There's nothing that special about the clock. Those clocks were the product of early mass-production. Probably the Wal-Mart special of the day. Maybe a little higher-end than that, but they aren't museum pieces. I spent more having it cleaned and touched up than I could have spent on eBay buying one just like it. But that clock was there everywhere they lived. It was ticking in the background of every family occasion, good and bad. I can't hear it or touch it or see it without remembering something else that happened near that clock. I've wound it a couple of times, and I don't feel right doing that while my father is still alive. The first time I did wind it, I called him first to get permission and ask him if there was anything special I needed to know. He said, "For Christ's sake, it's a clock. You wind it. What more do you need to know?" But then of course he gave me a long list of arbitrary but to him mandatory considerations I needed to follow to wind it the "right" way. I knew he would. That's why I called him.
So I understand what you mean about Pop's Pot. You have to have these things, and care for them and most of all, to use them. You owe it to them, and they owe it to you. Just that moment of connection, across a century and more. The realization that your ancestor, whom you knew or to whom you have some connection, needed to do a thing, and this object served him in that purpose, and now you have to do the same thing, and this same object can still serve you now. The object can outlive people, and take care of a whole family down the years and generations. It's important to let those things do what they want and need to do; to take care of you, and to remind you that no matter what else has changed, and who has died or been born and has lived, we still need to make food and know what time it is, and we need even more to be reminded of the stories of the people who have needed and used these things and made them parts of their lives, and now ours. We are never alone. Even in solitude, we're surrounded by everyone we've ever known. Things like an old pot or an old clock, or Great-Grandma's vegetable peeler (which I rescued from being thrown out, rubbed with a little steel wool and use every day) tell us we're all part of a long chain of people, alive and dead, who know the importance of doing even things we consider simple, and that simple tasks of everyday life are worth thinking about and doing in the knowledge that everyone everywhere has always needed to do them, and will always need to do them.
Keep that pot handy and working for you.
Swmnguy,
Eloquent response to CD's great effort. We are more than the sum of purchases, and our heritage runs deep. One of the headlines above CD's subject reads almost farcial: The Potential Exists For an Epic Short Squeeze in Physical Gold.
Live life like it deserves; as if we are dying ever moment. It is not to be feared, for the truth is that we are; but rather to appreciate the tapestry that is weaved as we live it.
Thanks and appreciation to both you and CD.
"Keep that pot handy and working for you."
I see it everytime I walk into the kitchen and it gets used reguarly.
You just don't throw stuff like that away.
I have a hunch that pot will be handed down again and every time it does it'll have even more character.
I hope you are correct. I know we will tell our children the story about Pop's Pot enough times that they will be sick and tired of hearing it. Then, when it comes time to pass it on to their children it will be burned into their memories.
Good stuff.
Thank You Cog and Mrs. Cog. I enjoyed the piece very much.
I'd like to suggest that you expand your skills. You could be able to repair even more severe damage to aluminium if you warm it up. The desired temperatures would be about 440 °C - 480 °C, depending on the exact alloy. This can easily be done with a hot air gun (and I mean hot air, don't use a blowtorch!), and the material gets much softer. Similar to forging hot steel, except that steel would be so hot that you could see it glow.
Now that I have an honest-to-God (log) garage-work shop I plan on acquiring some new, and revisiting some old, wood and metal working skills. I welded submarines for a few years when I was in my early 20's and always enjoyed the metal work as an art form. You would not believe the amount and variety of tools the prior owner left behind when he sold us the place.
You can never have to much tools. Especially old ones. My best wood planer is more than 100 years old.
This.
Cog Dis,
Thanks for the article. If you have it available, could you please re-post a link to your article about simple changes we can do 'to construct our own reality'? I would like to re-read the article. I don't remember it exactly, but one of the suggestions was to repair several items rather than consume and repurchase. I did that with several things a week or so before you posted the article so it struck a chord with me and I'd like to see some of your other ideas.
One thing I've been struck by recently is the power of leading by example. I've been actively trying to acquire skills that have been unlearned or seen as beneath my middle class existence. I'm not even talking about difficult stuff but things like repairing drywall, changing oil, soldering pipes, basic masonry, basic carpentry. Friends now ask me for advice about these things like I'm some sort of expert. Some are even starting to learn these skills as well. Maybe it's got nothing to do with me, and it's because we're all going through the stage in life where people start to settle down and explore these things?
I guess the point is 'action shows priorities'. If people want to bitch on FB or ZH all day long, that's how they'll view the world. If they invest in themselves and others, they'll have a better appreciation for their own worth and that of others. Whatever. It's not as if I've got it figured out.
Peace out.