By Sharon Kennedy
Dad loved burning wood. Even after my parents bought a mobile home, he often went back to the old house and got a fire going in the woodstove. He said the only decent piece of toast he ever ate was one that was thrown on a hot burner and flipped before it burned to a crisp. When my brother paid to have a four-car garage built next to the trailer, Dad had a chimney put in and a barrel stove. Although he didn’t use the stove as a toaster, he did enjoy holding court in his new domain. When old friends or adult nephews stopped by during the winter, they didn’t stay long in the kitchen. They joined Dad in the garage for a beer and a few laughs.
Time to get out the chains
I took the picture when I was visiting from Detroit. Dad had ordered logs, cut them with his chainsaw, and stacked all the wood. Never did he or I ever dream that one day the photo would be posted on the International Highway, aka, the www. Notice the makeshift chairs. They’re partly chrome and partly wood. The chrome table is still in the garage as is the metal box holding a mountain of wood. I don’t know who took the stove when Dad passed on, but I know it’s been gone for almost as long as he has—40 years this September.
The old Case tractor is the one I remember the most. It was called into action in all seasons. Dad also had a much larger one with steel wheels. Where that one ended up is a mystery, but the Case found a new home in a friend’s shed.
Dad in the Garage
