Broomsticks

My grand-daddy had a shop in the back yard. It was a magical place full of wonders for any young boy and a lot of the time I spent at his house was in or around the shop. In one corner he kept a pile of broomsticks and mop handles. When a broom or mop was no longer serviceable (meaning so threadbare that it absolutely couldn't be used) he cut the handle off and put it in the corner.

Anytime he needed a straight piece of dowel, he'd reach for the broomstick pile. That stack of sticks made all sorts of toys and tools over the years. It was a seemingly unending supply of material.

I likewise have a similar, though smaller, broomstick collection in my shop. As per the old man's example, I use those things for all manner of implement. Occasionally, the grandsons raid the pile and can be seen waling on each other in the yard. Boys!

Last week, Milady broke the head off of her mop. She leaned the handle near the back door in disgust and this morning I noticed it. I picked it up as raw material and took a quick look at it. There is no wood in the thing. It's some sort of poor quality steel tubing, not really fit to be used as anything but landfill material. Which is where it's headed.