My Dad – Inventions

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For some reason I have been thinking about dad this morning. Part of it could be old memories now that he has been gone for a couple of months. He was a bit of an inventor and improvisor. As a boy, I did not think of it so much, but he was always trying to figure out ways to make things easier, or more automated. Sometimes his imagination of what he wanted to accomplish went beyond the realization of the finished product. I remember quite a few unfinished dreams which left parts scattered about. Then again, I suppose many inventors have had many unfinished and discarded projects. Though some remained incomplete, many of the things he put his mind to figure out worked well.

The farm and his other enterprises provided endless opportunity to put his invention skills into motion. That is why for me, his creations and inventions were just a part of getting things done. Some of them I am sure were done as an alternative to spending money on something he could do himself for much less. It also was something he enjoyed doing.

When I was a boy, we lived in Wisconsin. The summers were short and beautiful, and the winters long an cold. Dad never really cared for it, so after living there for eleven years he decided it was time to move to a little warmer climate. However, I have many childhood memories of living there, especially of the long cold winters, and all the fun we had skating, sledding, and playing in the snow.

We had a wood burning furnace in the basement of our house which we used to heat with in the winter. This has left me with quite a few memories of cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood. I did not do so much of the cutting as I was too small, but I do remember splitting those large logs and stacking them in the basement. The only splitter we owned was a maul, and a few wedges. Some of the time we would split the wood outside and throw it down into the basement, while other times I remember splitting it in the basement. That proved to be challenging due to the low ceiling not allowing you to swing the splitting maul too high or it would hit the open ceiling joists. My dad was not that tall but he was strong. I can still see him standing next to the wood furnace in his house slippers, swinging the maul with a low powerful sweep, splitting a log. One had to be careful so as to not dull the maul on the floor or chip the concrete when the log finally split. To this day, when I use a maul to split wood, I find myself trying to prevent it from hitting the ground on the final splitting swing.

Our old farmhouse had a full basement under it which was unfinished. In one corner was what we called our fruit room where mom stored her canned goods and potatoes. The rest of the basement was one big room, which hosted a not so private bathroom, as well as water heater and furnace. Another room was the one we called the dirt room because it did not have a concrete floor. This is where we stored our firewood and did some of the wood splitting in the wintertime. I believe this was an addition added on to the original house, because the access to that room consisted of a jagged hole broken through the basement wall. At the far end of it was an old stairwell with a door to the outside which we used as a wood chute.

Many times, the wood we cut was green and needed to dry before it would burn well. We had a stand of timber on the back side of the farm which was where we would cut trees to use for firewood. One interesting thing was that green wood that is frozen splits very easily. Even as a small boy, I could split a large log with a splitting maul with very little effort. Something with the frozen sap in the wood made it split like you were breaking a piece of ice. A log a couple of feet across would split easily with one or two blows with a maul.

Most often we would cut the wood and bring it up on the back of the pickup or with the tractor and loader. Later, my dad got the idea to cut the branches off the trees and drag the trees whole up to the house, which saved a lot of work. Dad thought he would improve his ability to bring those trees to the house by inventing a grapple hook to pull them with. In theory it was a good idea, but it ended up being too weak. He designed a couple of hooks out of half in steel and got someone to cut them out. He drilled a hole in them, and bolted them together sort of like a scissors, with a short section of chain on the top, which was fastened to a bar which hooked to the three point hitch on the tractor. His idea was he could back up to a tree, let down the hooks, and the teeth would bite into the tree when he picked it up, allowing him to pull it. It worked. However, the steel was not tempered, or not heavy enough, and did not have the strength to withstand the angle of the pull, and soon bent. I do not remember what became of that invention, but I remember seeing it around for a long time afterwards.

In a way it was one of his failed inventions, but I have always remembered it over the years. Perhaps it stands in my memory as a memorial of dad, and what one can do when you put your ideas into motion. So, was it a failure? Yes, but not really. It was a good invention, but it should have been made a little stronger. It was a good invention that failed the stress test. My dad never repaired it, I suppose because he knew it would do no good. However, that failure did not prevent him from continuing to invent things for the rest of his life; he never quit.

I believe there is a lesson to be learned in this. Even though this project did not work, it was education that never would have been learned had he never tried. Too often we have good ideas or maybe even a nudge from the Holy Spirit, but fear of failure keeps us from putting them into action. I don’t think this situation discouraged my dad from inventing things. Sure, maybe he was frustrated that it failed but that is the risk. I read somewhere once that there are no failed tests or experiments, because of the education received from it. That is the very reason for testing products, is to see if they work, fail, or need improvement. The world of modern conveniences that we enjoy only came through trial and error. I think this applies to our walk with God as well. We would like to always be perfect, never failing. However, if that were so, we would fail to be human. There is more to be learned from our failures and mistakes than from living a perfect life. If we could live so perfectly that we never failed, we would become “untouchable.” Reminds me of this poem, part of which I remember from childhood.

Try, Try Again 
By T.H. Palmer 
Tis a lesson you should heed, 
If at first you don't succeed, 
Try, try again; 
Then your courage should appear, 
For if you will persevere, 
You will conquer, never fear 
Try, try again; 
Once or twice, though you should fail, 
If you would at last prevail, 
Try, try again; 
If we strive, 'tis no disgrace 
Though we do not win the race; 
What should you do in the case? 
Try, try again 
If you find your task is hard, 
Time will bring you your reward, 
Try, try again 
All that other folks can do, 
Why, with patience, should not you? 
Only keep this rule in view: 
Try, try again. 

My dad’s motto was, “If they can do it, we can to.” This was not an arrogant statement, just a fact of the way he looked at things. Maybe it was something to help us boys have the confidence to tackle projects; I never asked him. This also has a bit of a lesson in it. We can think we are a failure before we try; or that it is something out of my league of capabilities. My dad’s way of looking at things stripped that thinking away. He did not think that others were so much above him that they were superior. If he did not know how to do something, he would ask someone who did. This gave him the confidence to go forward despite difficulty.

Unfortunately, I did not acquire all the fearless approach to taking on projects like my dad. Maybe that is because I focused on the things that did not work out so well for him, instead of the experience I gained through dad’s propensity to launch into new projects and enterprises. Perhaps his seemingly fearless approach to life was his survival tactic, because he had no one to help him get started.  Whatever the case, he never stopped dreaming of what he wanted to do. Even when his mind was not strong anymore, he still dreamed of building tables, and having a big sander to sand them. We knew it was not possible anymore, but I believe if he could have, he would have done it.

We need that kind of determination to succeed in Christian life. To be like Caleb of old who said, “Give me that mountain!” See Joshua 14:6-14 And one day we will look back and say the struggle was worth it; the rewards far outweighed the challenges we faced.