Toys and Chainsaws

 

 

We lived in Kansas in the 1970’s and early 1980’s. During that time, we were very ecologically friendly, growing our own food and burning wood for heat. At first, we had some difficulty finding sources of firewood, even though we lived in the country. In the first three years, we went through the dead wood and trimmings on our small property, but then we made friends with our farmer neighbors. Our neighbors to the south, Thelma and George Hewitt, became our wood suppliers. They had a quarter mile hedgerow that was overgrown and taking over tillable ground. Trimming up the spreading limbs freed up the farm ground and did not detract from the hedgerow function of being an impenetrable fence. So, from the time the leaves dropped until they budded out again, my Saturday morning task was to drive over to the hedge row with my International Scout 4×4, cut and fill the bed with wood for my Ashley stove, and take it home and stack it. I generally cut a year in advance to give the wood time to dry, but, since it was Hedge, also know as Osage Orange, it could be burned completely green.

 

Hedge wood is extraordinarily dense and difficult to cut. Over time, I bought a Stihl 060 Farm Boss, an extremely powerful saw, and equipped it with chisel tooth chains. For all that, the chain teeth still had to be retouched every week to keep them cutting well. For several years I cut, transported, split, and stacked wood alone. Then, in 1979, Aaron came into the world. That was in May. The following fall, Aaron started going wood cutting. It is hard to know a baby’s thoughts, but all through the winter he would sit in his car seat in the back of the Scout watching and listening to me cut. He was a very intense baby, and seemed to carefully take it all in. When it was time to load up the wood, I would set him to the side on the frozen and snowy ground, and he watched with delight as I tossed the logs into the back. This went on for three years.

 

Christmas 1983 came around.   By this time, we also had our second son, Jared. Jared also went woodcutting, but, since he was a quiet well-behaved baby, he didn’t go every week. Aaron was a regular, however, and now was helping me load wood. For a Christmas present, I gave him a toy Poulan chain saw.   It had a shiny bead chain that ran around the bar while a little noisemaker made motor noises. Aaron loved it. None of the other toys mattered at all. He walked around the house running his saw. I should have noticed he was very careful not to try cutting anything with it. That Saturday we made our preparations in the garage, cleaning up the Stihl, touching up the cutters, mixing some fuel. Aaron made mock preparations with his new Poulan saw. I didn’t see what was coming next.

 

So, we loaded up and drove to the hedgerow. I got out and setup to start cutting 30 feet away from the truck. Then I watched Aaron get all set up to cut up a branch.   He loaded the saw with imaginary fuel, and swaggered up to start cutting. Starting the noise maker motor, he bore down on the log….and, of course, nothing happened. He tried two or three times before inspecting his chain to see what was wrong.   A look of disgusted disbelief spread across his face. His saw was a fake! It wasn’t going to cut anything.

 

I had to go over to tell him his saw was a toy. If looks could kill. He turned back to the truck and tossed the saw in. He never picked it up again. He was ready to cut firewood with a real saw, even if I didn’t quite agree.

 

I learned a valuable lesson that day. Don’t give real boys fake tools. Don’t give them fake guns, either. In the future I would give Aaron and all the boys real tools and real guns, and later real cars. You know, no one ever cut off a finger or shot anything accidentally, although they all managed to have a few wrecks.

 

I will never forget that day cutting firewood with my redheaded son.