Afflicted Nails :: A Tree Fort Flowering
Back when tools felt unfamiliar and over sized in the hand there was a bent bouquet of 16 penny nails in a board we were trying to attach to a tree.
(Glancing blows were all we were capable of commanding.)
Our minds sought an explanation for our failure.
Never landing on the concept of unskilled we decided unanimously that the nails we bought from Wicks Lumber must be defective.
The mother we convinced to return them to the store for us happened to be British born and this may have added yet another level of complexity to her exchange with the sales person.
Still, she came back with a new 5 LB box and before the laughter in the lumber yard had entirely trailed away we were back on rickety wooden ladders trying again.
With the same result!?!
Flickded Nails!
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Hey jb,
As I mentioned to you via email, I made a re-creation of the picture in my mind showing the nails as they looked to me that day. Aside from sacrificing about 15 cc common nails for this endeavor, I also had to figure out how to do the opposite of what came naturally to me then. By this I mean i had to unlearn what I have learned since about striking a nail. I utilized a cement block behind the board to offer some resistance and pounded away. The sad face created by the dimples and impressions of the nails was a bonus… Fun!
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b,
This confirms my suspicion that the nail industry was having a severe quality control problem at the time, because my friends and I were experiencing exactly the same problems.
But how did your tree fort finally come out? Ours remained a collection of randomly placed boards that still managed to support us (somehow).
Nice posting!
~John
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Hi John,
I suspect this may have had something to do with post world war two steel. It amazes me how tenaciously stubborn we were as we spun a yarn which went something like: “The whole bunch of nails they got over there at Wicks must be bad!”.
As I remember that tree fort did not go very far. It was to be the younger kids answer to a group of older kids who had built a fairly sophisticated tree house with a trap door and tar paper sides and roof. We were not allowed in their fort except on occasion (usually involving some form of hazing) so we decided to construct our own. We probably played croquet instead as it was fairly obvious to us that some larger cosmic barriers had been placed in our way.
Now, the spaceship we built later out of a large wooden packing crate was to have a much different outcome. Perhaps part two of this poetry post will be lost in space….
I love that the randomly placed boards were able to support you and your friends. I think kids instinctively know how to hold the world together with their minds.
Thanks for the comment and the kind words!
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I knew the bent nails were skill issues, but I found a way to blame it on my parents – they should have prepared us more fully for the rigors of nail pounding random things in the back yard.
Still can’t pound nails straight, but I CAN hang & mud dry wall. And paint. But I don’t. Baking is more fun for throwing stuff around just to see what happens.-
Hello AlexandraFunFit,
I didn’t really think to start blaming my parents for things like this until much later…
I know a few folks who could probably mange pounding a nail but can do nothing beyond making a mess with a drywall knife.
Material wise, drywall finishing and painting have some similarities to baking. I have often thought that being a bartender helped me to become a better painter. I once dabbled in bread baking and it is on my list (along with harmonica) of things to get back to.
Happy concocting in the kitchen and beyond!
-b
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b I love this post! poetic rumblings of the past . . . ignorance turns to knowledge in hindsight. skill acquired.