Communication

The Machinist and I had terrible “words” this morning. Over something silly, of course. Like the PHONE. I’ve asked the Machinist on many occasion that if I receive a call, to please take the number of the caller, or a message. I don’t expect the Machinist to – well – leave his machines and come and look for me, just to hand me the phone. I could be anywhere on the home block, and hiding and seeking could easily break his momentum – and – gasp – motivation. Being the good guy he is, it isn’t often that he’s done as I’ve asked in this regard, and continues to call me / look for me when the phone rings for me. It’s not often that I receive calls via our business phone. I always request email contact, or I give my mobile number, as not to disturb the smooth running of the workshop and those who work therein.

I was going through pictures of our workshop on hard drive, with the aim of selecting some for this blog and our new Metalsmithery website. The Machinist came through the door, phone in hand..

“It’s ....... for you from ......”

“Can you take a message for me?”, I asked. This was sort of pushing it with the Machinist, because he had left his momentum behind in the workshop, passed the distractions of our pet Cockatoo, Bucko calling from his cage, almost legged over the two ‘shadow dogs’, fell into the front door to make his way to me and my HP Touchsmart. But... I hadn’t thought of all his trevail when I asked this of him. I was just so miffed that this person had phoned, after I had asked for email contact, and I hadn’t even had the chance to consult with the Machinist about the issue. Email gives one TIME to THINK. Phone communication doesn’t.

The Machinist got mad. I got mad and then I cried. The Machinist went back outside...

Later, I heard his footsteps in the house again (I know each family member’s footsteps. I know the pace they take, the pressure they put down on their feet...). Suddenly, I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and not ready to talk with him, I kept my eyes focussed on the screen. I saw his hand slide onto the desk and deposit something next to the mouse.

“Here’s something to keep you company”, he said, and then he was gone.....




Did I tell you how much I love the Machinist?

TEMPERED STEEL

Tempered steel

in furnace burns

golden crimson fire

beaten bandied

folded too

emerging stronger yet.

So must our love be tried

furnaces fired

with passions belows

tested

tempered

tried again

emerging unbreakable.

A worthy life long quest.

~ F Michael Sigler ~