There are moments in a life that define what that life becomes from that point on. Sometimes there are simple things that become more important over time. Sometimes there are major events that suddenly shift a life into a place it would never otherwise see. For me, one of those moments happened in High School. It was in shop class probably in 10th grade. It seemed everyone boy either ended up in shop class or in automotive restoration, which meant taking a junker and turning it into a Hot Rod. Shop class was where you learned to build a small book case, but you started out with building a simple wooden lamp. On the first day of class there was chaos as the shop teacher tried to figure out who was who and where they would sit and who would be the dud and who would build a world class bookcase. While all of this was going on, we were allowed to explore the shop class classroom which was filled with wood and various power tools, including saws. A kid I barely knew, but recognized as a trouble maker, turned on the band saw and found a block of walnut which he then proceeded to make progressively smaller. I was standing behind him, observing. As a piano student, I didn't want to be the first to "handle" any moving saw blade. As it turned out, this was a very good strategy and eventually offered the teacher a teaching point, because the bored walnut band saw chopper momentarily lost track of where his fingers and wood were. Perhaps he was distracted by some noise or by looking for a pal to witness his walnut sawing abilities. All I know is that he turned around to face me, holding his right hand up. I saw that his index finger was missing. There was just a stump of a finger there. But, at least for a moment, there wasn't any blood, so I wasn't too concerned. I thought, maybe, it was a trick of some kind. But, no, then the blood came out is a gush and everyone, it seemed, started screaming. I must have been one of the screamers, but I don't remember that part. The walnut sawing kid was rushed to the nurses office by the teacher, who came back to look for the sawed off finger shortly afterward. We were all ordered to sit at our tables and the electricity to the tools was turned off. I knew, at that moment, that I would never make it as a carpenter and that I would avoid power tools for the rest of my life. The lamp I make in that class was glued not nailed, together, and my bookcase fell apart.

Stumble It!