In the Wintertime when the races run
And you spend some shop time with your son
Cutting and shaping a block o' pine
Teaching him how to cut close to the line

The wind is high the air is cold
The boy is young
You're not quite old
The kerosene heater stinks but it's warm
The radio calls for a possible storm

In the snug little shop that you want him to love
There is time that is passing
A gift from above
That neither of you will ever forget
That neither of you will ever forget

The bandsawing done the sanding begins
You watch as your ten year old sands while he grins
Only a ten year old grins while he sands
He stops for a moment and looks at his hands

Then back to the block of wood that he's shaped
Then back to his hands
And a concept is shaped
And a smile replaces that wonderful grin
When a Dad sees that smile a Dad starts to grin

In the snug little shop that you want him to love
There is time that is passing
A gift from above
That neither of you will ever forget
That neither of you will ever forget











Regards,

Tom Watson

tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet (real email)

http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/

Since you are on the subject, here is a link to the photos I took of
the cars that ran in our Pack's Pinewood Derby on Saturday, January
27th, 2007.

http://www.cubscoutpack783.com/Pack7...7_PWD_MAIN.asp

My son's car (the sub sandwich) is number 50. He won second place in
the design category. All the design was his. He did 90% of the work
on the car including cutting it in half on the scroll saw. I helped a
bit with rounding off the ends on the belt sander and with the
wheels. Due to the design there wasn't a lot of flexibility on how
the weight could be distributed. So while it held its own, it wasn't
real speedy.

Oh, and my car? It was number 111. SWMBO even got into it this year
and made a car (number 113 with Don King driving). She did all the
finish work but my 10 year old (Webelos II) cut out the car for her on
the scroll saw.

My 3rd year Boy Scout decided since mom was making one he would too.
Number 115 was this year's creation, and just for kicks he ran number
114 ( the picture doesn't do the paint job justice) that he made when
he was in Cub Scouts (yes, he did all the dremel work).
Unfortunately, I took the wheels off of one of my old cars and let him
use them on his new car. His beat mine handily in the four-way family
grudge race. I'm not going to hear the end of that for years!

This was our last year to take part in the Pinewood Derby as Cub
Scouts (I am the Webelos Den Leader and Assistant Cubmaster). Each
year open my garage for all the boys (and dads) in the pack to come
over and make their cars. After four years of kids in the shop nobody
had gone home with fewer fingers than they arrived with. I'm going to
miss it enough that I might volunteer next year even without a boy in
the pack.

It took a few years, but my boys finally understood why dad insisted
on multiple iterations of primer/sand. The complaints about sanding
disappeared quickly after the first couple coats of finish paint were
on. The boys can now run a can of spray paint without major runs or
drips.

Yours in Scouting,
Jim

Very nice Tom, brought back some memories for me - my son (now 27) and I
were just talking about our pinewood adventures with his pack - after all
these years it is still a fond memory for us both. Your poem brought it all
back.

Thanks,

Jeff

"Tom Watson" wrote in message
news
In the Wintertime when the races run
And you spend some shop time with your son
Cutting and shaping a block o' pine
Teaching him how to cut close to the line

The wind is high the air is cold
The boy is young
You're not quite old
The kerosene heater stinks but it's warm
The radio calls for a possible storm

In the snug little shop that you want him to love
There is time that is passing
A gift from above
That neither of you will ever forget
That neither of you will ever forget

The bandsawing done the sanding begins
You watch as your ten year old sands while he grins
Only a ten year old grins while he sands
He stops for a moment and looks at his hands

Then back to the block of wood that he's shaped
Then back to his hands
And a concept is shaped
And a smile replaces that wonderful grin
When a Dad sees that smile a Dad starts to grin

In the snug little shop that you want him to love
There is time that is passing
A gift from above
That neither of you will ever forget
That neither of you will ever forget











Regards,

Tom Watson

tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet (real email)

http://home.comcast.net/~tjwatson1/