The workbench at 1001 Myrtle was a productive spot for your dad and mine to hone their skills. Those genes run right through to you. I love the story, the beautiful carving and connection it made with your dad although unsaid. May I add that I’m writing this while looking out on the bird feeder my dad made for me and my husband has repaired numerous times retaining its original look. Dad always used salvaged wood and metal for everything. A true Rueckert creed started on Nana’s workbench.
Aww..thanks cuz..the memory of Nana’s basement work bench, jars of screws and what not, shelves of preserves, and the coal chute next to the furnace. And then the attic! What finds! Thanks for reading. I loved your mom and dad so much.
A beautiful story, close to my heart. My father and my brother loved birds, as do I. My brother died five years ago and I still think of him with every siting of a hawk or an eagle or even a sparrow. Love your old bird house and the love embodied there. Your sculpture is amazing.
What a tender and articulate story about your father. I'm so glad you were able to hear his loving words and that he had the courage to say them. My father comes back as a boitsterous BlueJay. Every day around 5:00 p.m. (Happy Hour), he appears, eating at the feeder and getting a long, cool drink of water from the bird bath. Occasionally, he sits on the deck and just looks in the window, then flies away. Thank you for sharing.
Beautifully written story, Stephen. I love the photograph in the end of the sculpture of bird houses. I would expect your father comes to you as a bird, too. Thanks for sharing this one.
The workbench at 1001 Myrtle was a productive spot for your dad and mine to hone their skills. Those genes run right through to you. I love the story, the beautiful carving and connection it made with your dad although unsaid. May I add that I’m writing this while looking out on the bird feeder my dad made for me and my husband has repaired numerous times retaining its original look. Dad always used salvaged wood and metal for everything. A true Rueckert creed started on Nana’s workbench.
Hugs and yes the tears are flowing.
Aww..thanks cuz..the memory of Nana’s basement work bench, jars of screws and what not, shelves of preserves, and the coal chute next to the furnace. And then the attic! What finds! Thanks for reading. I loved your mom and dad so much.
This sounds like my grandparents’ basement ❤️
even though I know the story, at the last words,
tears....
The birdfeeder is beautiful. That the carved embellishments survived the elements all those years is amazing. What a treasure.
It is. Always next to me. Thank you for your comment.
What that carving must have meant to Stephen’s dad 🥹
That is tender and beautiful. I remember for Xmas one year he chose your drawing with a bird in it and I received the Duchamp broken glass drawing.
Duchamp. How curious!❤️Thank you, Noble.
Beautiful story. I absolutely love the sculptures since I’m a birdwatcher.
Beautiful story and I love the comments between cousins below. So special to have those shared memories of earlier days and people long gone.
So curious memory is..thank you.
Past is so present😊
In addition to being a talented artist, you are a sensitive and gifted writer. Beautiful, touching reflections.
Anne, thank you…I don’t know what to say. You are too kind.❤️
Fabulous piece reflecting love between Dad and son.
Thank you😊
(Through my tears) Thank you for this beautiful story about father and son relationships.
Thank you🙏🏻
A beautiful story, close to my heart. My father and my brother loved birds, as do I. My brother died five years ago and I still think of him with every siting of a hawk or an eagle or even a sparrow. Love your old bird house and the love embodied there. Your sculpture is amazing.
Thank you for all. Dear to me, I lost my brother only a week ago while writing this. Thank you for telling me.
❤️
What a tender and articulate story about your father. I'm so glad you were able to hear his loving words and that he had the courage to say them. My father comes back as a boitsterous BlueJay. Every day around 5:00 p.m. (Happy Hour), he appears, eating at the feeder and getting a long, cool drink of water from the bird bath. Occasionally, he sits on the deck and just looks in the window, then flies away. Thank you for sharing.
I’m so glad he visits you!
Sweet! Thank you for your kind words😊
I share these two insights:
”…far from the life he’d dreamed of,” and that dad never seemed quite content.
I love the sculpture.
Thank you😊
Very moving. I can related to that unquenchable, unconscious yearning to please your father but not knowing how -- or how you'd know. 💜
So true. Thank you
Same here❤️
My dad shows up as a bluebird when I miss him the most. I love this story. It's just as beautiful as the visual tribute you created for him.
What a special bird he chose 💙
Thank you❤️
Beautifully written story, Stephen. I love the photograph in the end of the sculpture of bird houses. I would expect your father comes to you as a bird, too. Thanks for sharing this one.
Thank you! I think he’s has. Outside my door this morning…https://photos.app.goo.gl/yBfToooBooyYqATGA