Kids Don’t Miss a Thing

Couldn’t resist sharing this one.  It’s the opening chapter in my son’s next book.  Yup, Michael Elijah writes books. 

Chapter 1: Baseball

by Michael Elijah

I signed up for baseball and my dad is also the coach.  I have to say, baseball is my sport.  Now, one day my dad saw this video of a batting cage, so we went there.  It’s called, ‘Frankie’s Fun Park’.  Well, we didn’t get there right away because we got lost 2 times! So, we saw this little house with two ladies and chickens – it looked very old so it was scary until the ladies were just walking around in a big swamp of mud.  Then my dad pulls over and says, “Hey, do you know where Frankie’s Fun Park’ is?”  They gave us directions and we went there.

Frankie’s Fun Park is fun.

My first team and my first coach

 

Outdoor Pine Workbench

Here’s a workbench made entirely out of pine logs. There are no nails, screws or glue. Perfect for workshop, blacksmith shop, garden or crafting space.

Born to be a Mother

I can still picture Holly mixing away. Her tanned shoulders and legs speckled with dried cement as I stood atop a scaffold waiting for the next bucket.  This was eight years ago, while we were building the addition to our cabin – and our home at the time.  Holly was pregnant with Michael and the girls were ages three and eight.

Five months into that pregnancy Holly never complained.  She just mixed away, quietly, seriously, shielding her eyes from the sun as I shouted down instructions: “Just half a bucket this time!  More water this time!  A little less sand in the next one!”

Then she’d turn and mix away, first cracking open a fresh bag of mortar than shoveling the sand into a wheel barrel and adding water.  When she was finished, Holly would fill up a 25 gal. bucket tied to a rope so I could haul it up to my perch some fifteen feet above.  When the sixth month of her pregnancy arrived, Holly was still mixing away.  I was near the top but not yet finished.  We were living in just half the house, with the other half covered in tarps to keep out the rain.  At night, we’d sit in a tiny room and have dinner sitting on wood crates.  My dusty boots were still on my feet, ready to put in another couple of hours after the meal.  I wanted to have the house ready for Michael’s arrival, so we did whatever it took.  Rather than complain, Holly simply grabbed an old towel for my boots, then sat down next to me on our wood-crate make-shift bench.  We’d eat whatever she could make over a fire because the addition included our kitchen – our not yet built kitchen.

And through all this Holly always managed a smile.  She never complained about feeling poorly, the cement, the kitchen-less half-built home, the hot sun, the hard work, or even the fact that we had no electric for much of the time.

The fact is, Holly enjoyed every single minute of that time in our lives.  She loved sending the girls off to school in the morning, mixing the cement, helping me work, being pregnant with Michael, getting the girls off the bus, and then cooking over a fire before helping them with their homework, while I continued to hack away at the roof and fireplace construction.

Through all of this I learned something valuable about Holly, something that I have been privileged to witness for the past sixteen years:  she loves being a mom – and she loves being a wife.

I told Holly that I’d build another cabin one day – and that it would have a massive fireplace just like the last one.  But I assured her that she wouldn’t have to mix the cement.  I can’t recall her  exact reply, but I can tell you that she didn’t smile.  The truth is, Holly loves hard work, and she loves the feeling of the hot sun on her shoulders.  She loves to build, to teach, to create, and to be with her family.

And I love her company.

Heaven has Pine Trees!

They say heaven is where our loved ones will wait for us. They say It’s a place of beauty and peace. Well, it must be true because I was there today.  I spent a couple of  hours with my grandfather, cutting down pine trees for a log cabin I’m building. He was smiling just as I remember.  And sweating.  He was in his white t-shirt and tan work pants, his rough hands covered in grease and glue.  His smell was of dog, oil, pine and just a hint of the previous night’s hair tonic.

Along the coast of South Carolina, where I live,  the sweet smell of Confederate jasmine comes in waves this time of year as the warm breeze blows off the marsh, reminding me of the  honey suckle of my northern boyhood. My grandfather’s property held an apple orchard, clumps of dogwood saplings, tall pines and mounds of creeping honey suckle.  Even to this day,  the smell of honey suckle,  dogwood and pine reminds me of my grandfather.

As I worked to harvest the logs for my cabin, the rough bark on the pine timbers cut into my hands, and as the blood mixed with the sap I had to smile, realizing that one man’s heaven might be the exact opposite to another.  In fact, I have only  known a few men in my life who would consider my morning of sweat, blood and sap as ‘heaven’.

My grandfather was certainly one of those men.

I’m not sure what I would have done yesterday, or today for that matter, if I had not spent so much time with my grandfather as a boy.  Would I still love the fresh smell of pine?  Would I still love to feel the rough bark on my hands?  Or, the smell of oil, dog and sap?  I honestly don’t know.  But I doubt it.

The question for all of us is: What do we love?  And how will it shape the world of our children and our grandchildren?  And ultimately, how will it shape their heaven?

There is no doubt that boys need their fathers and grandfathers.  Many women have told me that girls need them, too.  As a former boy myself, I can’t imagine life without them.  I can’t imagine a life without tools, pine, sweat, hatchets, blood and sap. I can’t imagine a life without my grandfather’s sweaty t-shirt and his oil stained hands. Or, the squint in his eyes as the sun beat down on our little piece of heaven.

These days, I can only imagine what my own son might be thinking when he sees me climb up onto that log pile.  His toothless smile suggests that he sees ‘heaven’, and that he is anxious to climb up there with me.

Only time will tell.

Building a Cabin Day 1

For the past several years I’ve been putting together the pieces for a wilderness cabin building project and it’s finally time to begin filming.  The following clip is Day 1.  My production team is ready to go but first we’ll be filming the steps to building a small practice cabin that will be used to teach the kids who take my “Huck Finn” program.  After that, it’s off to the wilderness.

Building a Cabin Day 1 from michael bronco on Vimeo.

Unlike the cabin below, which took me nearly ten years to complete, my next project will be much smaller in size, but will be done in wilderness conditions and without the use of any power equipment at all.  I want to do it in the spirit of Dick Proeneke so I’ll fashion many of the tools I use straight from the wilderness.

This cabin was built with no power equipment for the first several years but then became too massive to continue that way. It now stands at just under 5000 SQF

Sign up for the blog to follow the process and to ask questions as I go along.

MB

Why Huck Finn?

by Jessy Bronco

It may seem a little strange to be teaching a “Huck Finn Class” for kids in this day and age of technology.  But just like Twain’s character, Huckleberry Finn, I’ve got a fairly sizable desire to follow my own instincts.

I also think that kids are in desperate need of this sort of training.

What I love about ‘Ol Huck is   his style.  I love his free spirit and his reckless courage.

But mostly, I love his self-reliance.

I teach something I call, “The Huck Finn Class,“  to both boys and girls so that they too can become self-reliant just like ‘Ol Huck.

I am well aware that occupations in technology will rule the future (they already do), and that kids will be at a great disadvantage if they don’t learn critical computer skills. But I also believe that kids who grow up knowing how to fix and build things are much better off than those who can’t.

The future belongs to skills – and the more you’ve got the better.  Like my father used to tell me, “There’s nothing wrong with being able to fix your own house.”  And then there’s the self-confidence that comes with it, which can be a real deal breaker in all areas of life.

The Huck Finn Class idea was born when my neighbor, Heather Spiezman, owner of Wine and Design in Mount Pleasant, S.C. saw the  things I was creating in my workshop.  Heather is  super-talented and knows cool stuff when she sees it. She asked if I would make a guest appearance during her kid’s summer art camp, and I immediately jumped at the opportunity.

We made a simple ‘rain stick’ that day, and the kids asked for more. So, not wanting to disappoint the kiddos, Heather and I decided to try a class. The first one filled up pretty good. The second one sold out.  I’m now on my fourth, with no plans to stop.

Believe it or not, the kids love my no cell phones rule, they love that I am demanding and expect them to be patient, and, most importantly, they love using their hands to build things.

How do I know?  Because the kids tell me.  And so do their parents.

It doesn’t surprise me, though.  When my grandfather used to bring me out to his garage to build things, I remember never wanting to leave. He was the first person to put a hammer in my hand, and he taught me how to make everything from birdhouses to go-carts. But more importantly, he showed me that he believed in me.

My father did the same thing when he buckled me into his pick-up truck and brought me to his auto body shop.  I remember being eight years old and lying on my back on the icy asphalt, trying to loosen a rusted bolt on a car bumper in the barbed-wire-lined-lot.  “Take those gloves off!” My father shouted.  “You can’t use a wrench like that!”

Thanks Dad.

Not only did he teach me how to be self-sufficient – he also showed me that he believed I could do it.  And I did.  My hands were frozen, and a bit bloodied – sure. But who cares? That stuff heals. What lasts forever is the fact that I did it! 

Just like my father knew I could.

There are no rusty bumpers or barbed wire fences in the Huck Finn Class, and the kids don’t lie down on icy asphalt.  But there is still the expectation that, you can do this.  And we still believe in the old adage: Do it right or don’t do it at all.

And boy do the kids really love that one.  No, seriously, they really do love that one.  The truth is, far too many parents get it wrong today.  Kids want discipline, they want to be held accountable, and they desperately want firmness and guidance.

I had a kid recently, a first timer, who proudly announced to the class that he was finished with his treasure box!   He smiled as he  handed it to me.  “I’m all finished,” he said, glancing over at the other kids, still working.

The veterans of the class chuckled.

“Done with what?” I shot back.

“My box,” he replied.

“That’s not a box,” I said pointing out the missed nail holes, crooked top, and hastily applied glue.  I then grabbed it and took it apart with my hands.  “Do it right,” I said.  “The way I showed you.”

The kid immediately got to work taking his time and doing it right. The result? It turned out a pretty darn nice treasure box.  It wasn’t the best, but it didn’t have to be. It was done right, and that’s all I ask.  At the end of the week he signed up for the next session – and then the next.  He even seemed excited to introduce me to his folks when I ran into them while shopping.  I had just walked into a store and the kid comes running over.  “Hey! Mom, Dad, this is Mr. Bronco!”

I guess he likes those who hold him accountable.  But then again, don’t we all?

I can only hope that when he sits down at his job one day, and  begins to plug away at his computer, he thinks back on that old tool box and remembers to take his time, enjoy the process, and do things right.

But most importantly, I hope he remembers that because I had the courage to expect more from him, I showed him in a very important way that I believed in him.

 

Native American Flute in G-minor

I’ve been getting requests to hear how my flutes sound so here’s a sample from daughter, Jessy! This is following one solid week of practice.

Native American Flute in G minor from michael bronco on Vimeo.