You know, the word manufactured comes from the Latin manus, meaning hands, and factum, meaning made. So contrary to common understanding, the word manufactured means hand made.
Making a paddle from a single piece of wood is not necessarily difficult, if you go slow, pay attention, and remove everything from the board that isn’t paddle. The outcome might be better if I used a band saw, power planer, belt and drum sander, and maybe a Dremel. That is, if the outcome is a perfect paddle.
My paddle is decidedly not perfect. It has imperfections, asymmetry and subtle flaws.
So does the guy who made it.
This project started a while ago, and it has been leaning against the corner of the garage for quite a while. When I was invited to write an article on hand-making paddles for The Art of Manliness, it kicked me in the butt. I got another piece of red cedar and to facilitate the pictures needed for the article, I made two paddles in parallel.
The tool works at both ends. So says my colleague Don Fogg, who is arguably one of the top blacksmiths in the country, possible the world. He understands the interaction between the materials and the manu-facturer, connected by a tool appropriate for the material and the work that needs to be done. I know a lot of folks who use butter knives to do all sorts of household repairs, and most of them are not what I would call workmanlike. It’s not tool snobbery, it’s an indicator that in our society, people don’t use their hands, so the tools become unimportant because they’re not connecting anything.
The nice thing about hand-building is that you can make changes as you interact with your work. The layout lines I originally used turned out to be less than I wanted, so I just ignored them, worked carefully and reshaped the top grip, checking it with my hand as I worked. What better feedback than checking every ten rasp strokes? You can’t make a perfect grip without that instant connection to your work.
The lack of manu-facturing in the United States is tragic, and ultimately can result in the death of a culture. A friend of mine teaches industrial arts at an affluent high school. When trying to teach a spoiled-rotten excuse of a young man how to do a fairly simple manual task, the excuse of a young man scoffed, saying “I’ll just pay someone to do that.” What a stunningly ignorant little shit. I am embarrassed for his parents.
Well, S-REOAYM, what happens when there aren’t people you can pay to do that? A wheelbarrow full of Krugerrands won’t fix your plumbing if there aren’t any plumbers. Plumbers are manu-facturers. They observe…they think…they do. The result is something useful.
The tool certainly worked at both ends this time. I’m glad for the kick in the butt. It made me appreciate even more the people in this country and indeed, all over the world, who make useful things every day. Whether it’s a meal at a restaurant or an oil change at the gas station, these people do the stuff. Think great thoughts all you like, S-REOAYM, but don’t call me when you can’t get your toilet to stop overflowing.
It took me about a day to build this paddle. If you count the time, it’s the most expensive paddle I’ve ever made, but I don’t count the time. It’s good for my soul to do this, to let the tools work on both ends. My hands tired, dusty and oily from the finish, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Hands that are soft, clean and free of scars are boring, and boring is no way to go through life.
Respectfully submitted,
Canoelover