Som where on the way to 57 I became cranky. Not mean and nasty, just cranky. I got into the antiques trade as a stress reliever. The law firm I worked in as a paralegal was a collection of tightly wound people crouching behind typewriters. They dug through endless file folders for the scattered parts of statutory weapons with which to bludgeon their prey. You can probably tell I wasn’t happy in that job. On Saturdays I spent most of the day cruising garage sales. It was where I first got caught up in the thrill of the hunt.
Antiqueing brought me back into a saner world. However, some baggage remains from those times and here I am – a crank. let me use an “antique” word and say curmudgeon. A curmudgeon is a guy with an antique attitude. The motivation comes from the past. you can’t be a proper curmudgeon without a sense of history. The things I get cranky about are based on ways of living that the world has passed by. I see a worn and work polished old hand tool and it seems like any one of various abandoned moral codes. I have a fine old low angle block plane of a type Stanley doesn’t make anymore. It is beautiful in it’s simplicity and reliability. Only a cranky guy like me would actually use it in a modern electrified cabinet making shop. It delights my soul when some young woodshop wunderkind asks to borrow it. Why is there an antiques trade? Because quality endures.