THE CLIVE SAGA - CHAPTER 16

🌻 CLIVE’S CORNER — CHAPTER 16

The Labor Day Long Box Showdown

I come wandering into the shop with my tool bag and an armful of Canary Wood and Bolivian hardwood. Clive takes one look at me and starts shaking his head — slow, disappointed, theatrical. Then it begins.

“Where have you been all day, Kid? Your bowls aren’t getting done, and certainly none of the flutes on your list are getting done with you missing all day.”

“Well, Clive, I was working on the Never Stop Helping part of the Sunflower Clan Ethos. And you know good and well Tuesdays and Thursdays are my time at the College helping folks with their flutes. I need that balance, otherwise I’m out of alignment with the three tenets — Never Stop Helping, Never Stop Learning, Never Stop Loving.”

I pause, then add:

“And I know you’ve developed your own Ethos — Never Stop Drinking Mt. Dew, Never Stop Eating Snacks, and Never Stop Criticizing.”

Clive’s skull tilts back like he’s been personally insulted by the gods.

“So do I need to give me a rundown on all your activities today?”

“I do when you wander in with an armful of wood when we have a shop full. And that’s Don Clive.”

“Okay, Don Clive. I went to class, then ran to Rockler to check bowl blanks and how to glue wood together to get a nice unique bowl.”

“So that’s why you bought all that Canary Wood?”

“Yes, Don Clive. Given the short time I have to get bowls made, I’m going to have to glue up some nice woods and create my own bowl blanks and it is gorgeous”

“I’ll give you a pass on that. Where else did you go?”

“I took Oscar home.”

“Okay, also a pass. You’re missing about two hours.”

“Don Clive, I don’t think I need to account for every minute of my day to you.”

“That is where you would be wrong, Kid. As senior partner and shop foreman, I need to know why you aren’t here getting things done.”

“I’m not arguing with you and not conceding your right to know where I was. But here you go anyway. After I dropped Oscar off, I was going to go to MacBeath’s but remembered Tom Checketts mentioned a reclaimed wood company. So I dropped by Got Old Wood Company and spent some time poking around.”

I can see Clive’s interest perk up despite himself.

“They have reclaimed wood from barns and other sources. I talked to Julie, the owner. She let me poke around, pick things up, and enjoy their inventory. They hooked me up with some upcycled hardwood pieces and a carving for my wife. I’ll be going back next week — they’re digging out some Brazilian Walnut that was used for a boardwalk.”

“Kid, you just can’t take the easy way. You have to complicate everything.”

“Well, anything worth doing is worth doing right. That applies to helping others, learning, and loving.”

Clive crosses his arms — bones clicking — and leans forward.

“Alright, Sargento Juan… now where is my box?”

“First of all, Don Clive, nothing has been delivered here with your name on it, so I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Dang it, Kid, I can feel it. You’re being evasive and redirecting. That’s not how someone who has nothing to hide acts. If I find out you’re holding out on me, there’s going to be a very uncomfortable talk coming your way.”

“As opposed to this one?”

I add, just to stir the pot:

“By the way, Don Clive, you’d like the Got Old Wood shop. They have wood as old as you are — plus a dugout canoe or two.”

“Kid, quit buying wood and get some work done. And find my missing package. Long and thin, if that helps you.”

Clive stands there, arms crossed, poncho draped, belt buckle gleaming, looking every bit the skeletal foreman of Labor Day — ready to supervise, criticize, and demand his mysterious long box.

And I’m still hiding it.