Treasured Tools

I find I have a number of tools about that have a name on them, a name that is not mine.

No, I did not steal them!!

A couple of these names belong to people I once knew, guys that are no longer here to argue about ownership of these tools.

Yes, I have tools with the names of dead guys.

Earlier today I was using a Fluke DMM, a professional electrician’s tool with the name Ray Jackson written on the case and on the back of the meter. I could erase the name with a bit of alcohol and a rag, but I don’t.

I bought this DMM from the gentleman’s widow, she was selling off his tools. We had a brief conversation, she was at a bit of a loss, overwhelmed with a great quantity of things she really knew little about, but seemed happy that at least this meter would be used by someone who knew what it was and appreciated it. I wonder what Ray was like, I suspect we would have gotten along.

There are several others, but to me the most poignant is the hacksaw.

It is a good tool, solidly made it has served me well, regularly used about the house and on my various projects. A simple hacksaw with the name R. F. Goff deeply etched into the back, Robert Fulton Goff.

Bob was a guy that enjoyed life without restraint. Found dressed in very casual clothing, usually a t-shirt and shorts, and always in sandals. An open, outgoing guy that gave of himself, and lent his expertise whenever possible.

Bob was an optician, an expert in making and assembling the precision glass that forms astronomical telescopes. He worked for Celestron during the early years of the company making some of the first telescopes that would go on to define a dominant brand in amateur astronomy. He worked on the large observatories, the big glass that would show us the universe. He worked on friend’s telescopes, making them just a little bit better.

After Bob’s all too early death, Valerie held a yard sale. She sold off his tools and the large collection of bits and pieces of telescopes filling the backyard workshop. Much of the astronomy club was there that sunny Tucson morning.

As the items were pulled from drawers and boxes we called dibs and good natured arguments arose over particularly desirable bits. Tales of Bob were swapped, often stories about how those bits came to be. It was as much a wake as a yard sale, the work and dreams of a man in his tools.

I think Bob would be happy to see his old hacksaw still serving well. Even happier seeing it cut the carbon fiber struts for a new telescope. I cannot help but think of Bob every time I pull this saw out of the tool chest.