An Ordinary Tool

This was my mom's first hammer.  That's really all I know about the history of this piece as it relates to my mom. I rarely saw her use it. I don't think it was her favourite hammer. Just her first. And, like all things in my parents home, they were kept as long as they were still useful. Waste not, want not.

For me, growing up at my parents, it was my favourite hammer.  It was always the hammer I looked for when I was working on my many projects, building doll houses or other scrap wood creations.  I liked the size of it, and how it fit into my hand. I liked the wood of the handle and the shape of the head.  I don't remember when that green duct tape was added.  I do remember I split the wood a long time ago hammering something too vigorously.  My dad first used black electrical tape to hold the wood together.  Never have my parents been ones to throw things away simply because they had broken.  If they could be repaired, they would be.  No matter how crudely.  

When I moved out on my own, my dad gave it to me with a handful of other tools he felt would come in handy.  I was thrilled to see it in there. Even still today, regardless of the fact that we now have four hammers, one of which Ethan picked out for himself one day when we were at the hardware store together, I will do a search of the house for this particular hammer when I need a personal job like hanging a piece of art on our walls.  I bring it with me when I need to hang my own work around town.

If someone was to ask me about it, I would likely only say it was my mom's first hammer. That alone means a lot to me for reasons I can't seem to put into words.  But it also feels like there is a ghost of memory, no longer wholly tangible, of every swing I ever took with this simple tool.  I feel like the hammer and I have gotten to know each other over our decades together.  I know the best place to hold it.  I know exactly how it will balance in my hand, and the way it will swing to make it's impact.  To me, it's simply beautiful in an honest, ordinary kind of way.  Not unlike some of the people I paint. Hmm.  I've never thought of that before.