In the aftermath of Father’s Day, stuff about dads lingers on Facebook. I’m not complaining. Better for a good holiday to fade rather than end abruptly. Right?
That’s the difference between Facebook and the real world, where all the Father’s Day ado is pre-holiday to sell you stuff. On the other hand, the special day trails off via marked-down dad-oriented merchandise. So scratch that comparison.
Starting over.
Last week a Facebook friend (also a real friend) posted a video titled “Name One Thing Your Dad Taught You.” I didn’t watch. Why burn limited data and time on a video about other people when I knew already how to respond? My daddy taught me to cope. Literally.
If you don’t know the literal meaning of cope – the very literal definition – you can look it up on the Internet. But it’s hard to find.
Here’s a clue:
It takes a saw. (We won’t go into the proverbial meaning of saw because I’m talking about a real saw.)
Our coping saw was the one Daddy let me use all the time.
It worked for everything – both straight lines and curves. Our big old vise at the corner of the work counter held the pieces of wood for me. I used that vice for other stuff too. If I had a childhood vise, it was that one. We digress.
If you know zilch about coping saws, picture a hacksaw with a skinny little blade about half the length of a hacksaw blade. Then change the proportions of the saw to allow more space between blade and frame. Also, add an option so the angle of the blade can be changed. And make the whole saw more delicate than a hacksaw except for the handle, which, unlike a hacksaw handle, sticks out in line with the blade.
If you don’t know what a hacksaw is, then forgive me for choosing the hacksaw as a starting point.
And if you think you can do a better job describing a coping saw, go for it. Somebody needs to.
I don’t remember everything Daddy said about how to use the coping saw, but I’m sure he schooled me on how not to break the blades. Once you master that aspect of using the saw, you can cope. You can even call yourself a coper, especially if you like to promote obscure nouns that Spellcheck doesn’t recognize.
Coping, per se, is how you saw a piece of wood to make it fit against the profile of a piece of molding or baseboard. It happens at corners.
Not that I was using the coping saw for that particular purpose as a child, but I did learn how to use it to cut curving lines. Same thing.
In college, my long-established coping skills proved valuable. In metalwork and jewelry class we used something akin to a coping saw to cut various shapes from sheet silver. I was a standout. I broke the fewest blades.
Thank you, Daddy, for teaching me to cope.