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Pat and Howie tried so hard to like the cabinet. They had
taken the advice of the paint store and sanded it and applied
a second stain. Pat had also taken the advice of a friend
to wash it thoroughly. But now, no matter how much effort
they continued to put in, the cabinet looked inferior; everything
about it seemed bad. I saw Pat almost had tears in her eyes,
she was trying so hard not to hurt my friend's feelings and
mine. Meanwhile, I was watching her friends who were standing
around the cabinet. They started saying, "That is terrible
wood, and look, there it is warped". They picked at the
material and the workmanship. Another even said, "This
is junk, better to throw it away in the dump." Obviously,
they didn't know about my friend, especially his effort and
kindness, they were just trying to ease Pat and Howie's feelings.
But I could not continue to hear these remarks. I felt very
sorry, not for Pat or my friend, but rather for the cabinet.
This cabinet didn't have fine material or great craftsmanship,
but it contained a beautiful generosity and heart. As I said,
my friend hadn't seen the new house, and his memory of the
old house and its casual nature influenced this result.
All of a sudden I said, "Pat, stop. No matter how well
made or expensive this cabinet might be, if you don't like
it, you don't have to keep it in this house. I will take it
home and I will find a good place for it." I saw great
relief in Pat and Howie's faces and both said at the same
time, "What are you going to say to your friend?"
"Don't worry," I said, "I will come up with
something." The moment I knew I wanted to keep the cabinet,
I added, "I cannot promise that it will happen right
away, but I will make something for this house."
While placing the cabinet in my car, I felt a big
storm had just passed by and finally continued on its way.
I brought the cabinet into my living room, which is quite
dark compared to Pat's bright house. The sick-looking stains
did not bother me at all and its height perfectly reached
the ceiling; I didn't have to trim it or add anything to it.
I knew then that this cabinet was made to stay in this place
and I also knew my decision was the right one. The cabinet
looked very comfortable and happy now; she didn't have to
hear harsh words, and not only that, I now felt my friend's
warm heart close by.
It took quite a while to tell my friend about this incident.
On one occasion, I invited him and his family to dinner, but
I could not bring up the subject. I was very glad that during
his visit he didn't stroll into my living room.
Some time after, I talked with a friend from Wisconsin about
the state of today's woodworking. He said, "It's not
worth looking for beautiful solid wood any longer. Plywood
has good qualities, and besides," he said with a sigh,
"the general public doesn't appreciate solid wood anymore."
Hearing him say these words, I had great sympathy for him,
knowing that he came from a family of several generations
of woodworkers.
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