[Scott Douglas]

My brother and I are in the process of building a new shop for him. Divorce, 'nuff said.
As we worked together on putting up a mezzanine over half the shop, he lamented that 'The Kids' weren't there to help us and boy were they missing out on all the fun we were having. We've reached the age where we work well together. It's his shop so I do things the way he wants them done. Simple.
When we get to a point where the last piece of the puzzle that is the floor, he jams it in as it fits nice and tight. 'That's a Dad fit' he says. Dad always was one to make things fit just so. He's there with us as we use the hammer he always did. We miss our dad, at least I do. He's been gone now for more than half my life. He never got to meet my son or see him play baseball or graduate with honors as an ME. He missed out on all the adventures my brother has taken us both on with his car collection and racing exploits.
I like to think he'd be proud of what we've accomplished. I know he'd love his great granddaughter's to death.
I have an old wood handled screw driver that was his. As a kid, I always would use it since it fit my hand so well. I have a lot of my dad's old tools in my tool box. Every time I use one I know he's with me there, ready to help figure out the problem.
I really don't know what will happen with all my tools. My son has his own set now and a garage to envy too. I don't know if my daughter will be interested in them either. Her two girls are too young yet to get a read on whether or not they'll take to things mechanical.
Ah well. It won't be my problem to deal with anyways, so why worry 'bout it.