I have very early childhood memories of my Dad’s oil can. Why? I have no idea. But I can tell you that I do not ever recall a time when this oil can wasn’t present in my Dad’s workbench, wherever it was that he lived. He had a small work room in a house we lived in Tujunga, which is where my earliest memories are from, and I can recall clearly the oil can sitting on the shelf above the workbench. There was a workbench in the garage of the house we moved into in Sunland when I was in elementary school, and there again I remember the oil can on the shelf. When we moved to Yreka when I was middle school age, I helped my father build a garage workbench out of the old cabinets we tore out of the kitchen, and on the garage window sill was the spot for the oil can. As an adult, I remember my Dad building workbenches in each of the homes in which he lived, and the oil can was always present. This oil can is at least 50 years old, and still functions perfectly. As an adult, I have personally gone through four or five oil cans, as they simply wear out, or quit working, or start leaking, or something. An oil can is a simple, messy, but necessary tool, which is easily lost or forgotten or not noticed. My Dad is gone now, and it’s not like this old oil can was anything special or precious to him. Still, I keep it handy, even though my workbench area is not nearly as nice as any of Dad’s were. It’s just a little reminder of him and his life, and of simple memories that last a long time.
