Good Ol' Tools

When one lives a life close to the land, good and sufficient tools are a necessity. The word tool has its origin in an old Germanic word that means “prepare.” In the kind of life I live I constantly work with one type of tool or another, and being prepared by having the right one for a task is important. It's not feasible for me to run to the store quickly and get either a replacement tool or the latest gadget. I'm out in the boonies and need to be ready to tackle the job at hand.

Modern technology offers us a plethora of gadgety tools. Peruse any tool catalog or handyman box store and you'll see a mind-blowing variety of tools—many of them powered by electricity or gasoline—to bring any task to a quick and noisy conclusion. There are many inventive companies that dream up all kinds of fancy implements that will fix anything and convince you that your life is incomplete without them.

But the problem with many of these schemes is that the tool too often does not do the job as easily and perfectly as advertised, and if it does, it will soon be in need of replacement or repair. How else are we to support those industrious folks who need to keep inventing newer and better widgets that we simply must have, if we don't scarf up their latest gimmick?

One lesson I've learned over the years of trying to forge an independent and sustainable lifestyle is the deep sense of satisfaction that comes from using a long-lasting, basic tool over the years, and literally having it become an old friend. Many of my most-used tools were acquired as long as 50 years ago, when I was a young man. It's great to still be using them. My tools and I have settled into a relationship here on the homestead that is straightforward and low tech. A good file, or pliers, or hammer, or chisel, or plane, or screwdriver, or wrench, or handsaw are implements that have almost become an extension of my body. They fit just right, do the job well, are safe, and can be depended upon to endure—all attributes that I value over speed.

Treasured even more (although not used as often) are a few tools handed down to me from my grandfather—some of which are over 100 years old. It is a joy to pull out one of Grandpa's tools and find it still useful and comfortable in my hands, or find out that it does the job better than any new-fangled tool. It takes me back to when I shadowed him around the farm as he did his chores and tackled carpentry projects, teaching his four-year-old “helper man” valuable lessons of self-sufficiency.

Another feature of old tools is how they teach me about patience and pacing in accomplishing many of my tasks around the homestead. Maybe I could polish off a job much faster with a modern power tool, but that speed often comes at a cost: a botched and rushed job because I went too fast; or buying a pricey toy that works well for a few times but then begins to malfunction; or adopting practices that just don't allow me an old-fashioned appreciation of a skilled job well done.

Old tools lead you into the slow lane, where you can become more intimately connected to the task at hand, and take the time to appreciate the sensual aspects of projects. There's a lot more to life than swiftness.