A friend of mine once told me that she is so totally grossed out by old wooden spoons and cutting boards that she has to bin them. Apparently, when faced with the 'furry' quality of the wood surface, her mind instantly turned to unhygienic thoughts of germs and bacteria infiltrating her food.
I thought long and hard about it and although I agree with her, I'll never be able to part with my old cutting board. It was made and gifted to me by my father, and in similar vein to my mother's piano, it comprises a very small collection of things passed down to me by him.
My father, or Tato, was about 18 years old when he was captured by the Germans and sent to work in a munitions factory in West Prussia (near Gdansk). As I recounted in a previous blog, it was very lucky that he survived the war, and fought hard to bring his 4 brothers & sisters & parents to Canada for a better life. He did this by first help building a remote Hydro dam in northern Ontario to pay for his passage, and then his remaining family's.
At Des Joachim Hydro dam, he learned carpentry & woodworking skills that would carry him from being used for work, to creating wonderful things for himself & his loved ones.
This is the only example I have of his craft & will treasure it always.
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