My granddaddy Kindla’s old tool shed was off limits for me in my early years. I was fascinated when he took me in there with him. I saw tools that were completely foreign to me.
Old wood working tools of every type in that “look but don’t touch” environment. My fascination was understandable considering the only tool I had at home was an old pair of slip joint plies that I used when working on my bike.
I guess that is what triggered my interest in old tools from the wood cabin and barn building era in early Bandera. I have been able over the years to accumulate various types like draw knives, T-handle pole barn beam hand drills, and a couple large wood and wrought iron carpenter’s mallets.
I also added a small one gallon coal oil can to my collection because it reminds me of the one my granddaddy had when I rode with him in his old Ford truck to the service station to fill it up.
Usually we went to Henry Lloyd Kalka’s Sinclair station or Billings Free State Oil Co.
Clearly visible from the outside of his tool shed was an anvil mounted on top of a large piece of a cypress.
I have yet to give in to the urge to replicate that item in my collection. Don’t think the idea hasn’t crossed my mind more than once as I come across them occasionally in my travels.
Besides the cost of those vintage anvils and a cypress stump I would have to consider how it’s going to fit in my office/computer room space. I might have to downsize my lure, marble, walking stick & cane, hat or book collection to make a little room.
Maybe if I move some of this stuff to my bedroom..... hmmmm?
Even though granddaddy’s house has changed hands multiple times and has undergone several renovations I still have my visions of the way it was back in the day.
The outhouse, clothesline and woodpile vanished many years ago. Those were the first signs of changes taking place as I often passed by.
Then the old tool shed and garage soon followed including the attached smokehouse. That’s where my parents hid the large Christmas presents from Santa before the big day.
When my first bike was in there it was clearly visible through the cracks between the old cypress boards. Let me tell you I had begun to regret discovering it because it caused me so much agony as days seemed to drag on forever after finding it.
So many times my mind has been filled with regret thinking about those early times of Growing Up In Bandera around my Granddaddy Kindla.
I was too young to comprehend or consider that he was the product of an earlier time that provided few privileges.
Everything involved hard work and grit just to get through the days of his youth. I was young and just wanted to have fun so we didn’t always mix well but I hope he felt later on how much I came to love and appreciate him.
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