Consider if you will the following.

A life spend in the pursuit of speed, of quickly completing jobs at any cost. A soul, whose only thought was to how fast a piece of cabinetry or furniture could be put through the door, slowly winds his way to his final judgment at the gate of heaven.

You have just entered a world of eternal fate, here in the twilit zone.

Imagine a scene of great fluffy clouds on which the great wall of heaven rests.

In the wall is an exquisitly formed gate made out of lignum vitae with rosewood, ebony and lacewood inlays. The gate appears to be shut, with three lone figures sitting in front of the gate as if they are waiting for someone.

They are ancient, wizened figures with strong hands nicked in numerous places. Their eyes look as if they could see the soul of the tree that had once been a living creature. Their hands, scarred as they are, also look as if they could call to life what the tree wanted its wood to look like in furniture or cabinet. They wait, patiently. They take their tools and carefully retouch cutting edges and trade stories of their lives in the shop. They wait.

Down the track from the gates walks a lone figure. He is dressed as he always was, in a wood dust covered flannel shirt. He can see the great gate, and slowly advances towards it, not knowing what to expect. He remembers that he will be judged based on his life's works. He thinks back to the pieces of wood he'd assembled into pieces of furniture. The pieces biskited and jointed, in haste, don't come to mind. The cracked tables, for want of poor design and lack of movement of the wood, also are forgotten by the lone soul. But, ahead await the masters.

The soul approaches the gates and stands before the three ancient masters. He does not recognize them. He's never seen them on TV, he's not read any magazine articles with their pictures in the byline. But, masters they obviously are.

"Greetings traveler" says the oldest of the three. "You have made your way to here, the place of your final judgment. We have watched you over the years and see that you are also a man, who like us during our lives, liked to work with wood. You see the gates before you closed."

"Have I sinned? Am I condemned to eternal torment for something I've Done I was just a simple furniture maker," said the lone soul.

"Oh no, it's nothing like that" said one of the younger of the three. "You see, this is your final judgment. We've watched you and see that you can bee make pieces of furniture quickly. You've lead a good life in all other ways.

Your final test is to build a replica of the gate you see before you."

The lone soul was relieved. He couldn't believe his good fortune. This should be an easy test.

"Masters, I'd like to get started. Where's the sawmill so I can get some dimensioned stock?"

"hmmm" said the youngest of the three masters. "Now that could slow you down just a smidgen. You see, there are no sawmills up here. You're going to have to fell the trees to get the wood to make the gate."

"What? Fell the trees? In life I'd just drive down to the lumberyard and buy what I need. Oh well, in that case - got any gas for my chainsaw?"

"Nope" said the oldest of the three. "Here are spare set of whip saws and axes. I'd suggest you get to work."

The three masters sat back as the lone soul struggled to fell the trees, but failed.

"Masters, I can't get the axes to bite nor the saw to cut. What am I doing wrong?"

The eldest master replied "you've failed to sharpen them to get ready for work. Do you think this saws are ready right out of the shrink wrap?"

The masters then stopped and took the time to show the lone soul how to prepare the saw and axes to fell the trees. With time, the axes bit and the saw cut and the trees were felled.

"Masters, where is the table saw so I can prepare stock from the logs?" asked the tired and winded soul.

"No table saws up here. Here is a pit-saw. One of us will work up top, you - as the apprentice- can work in the pit."

Slowly, the lengths of wood were cut from the logs."

Masters - where are the router and the jigs and power planer? I can have those gates constructed in no time" claimed the lone soul.

"Here is your router", said the eldest master.

The lone soul took hold of the router and pushed on the trigger. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. "Masters, I can't make my router work. How can I form the joinery for the gates if I can't cut the tennons and mortises with my plunge router?"

"Well, here are a spare set of Buck Bros. chisels and a brass-backed tennon saw. Did we mention that it is brass backed? Oh, by the way. You're going to have to sharpen them as well."

"Masters, this will take forever to finish the gates. Are you saying I'm going to have to make all this by hand?"

"Yes young man, this may indeed take forever at the rate you're going. No electrically powered tools allowed. The boss only used hand powered tools during his time on earth, so only hand powered tools are allowed here. You see before you the gateway to heaven. We had to make our own copies of the gate ourselves, but it only took us a little while.

I think that it is time we introduced ourselves." said the youngest of the masters. "I am Brother Ebeneezer from the Canterbury village. This is Mr. Duncan Phyffe off New England. The eldest is Noah, perhaps you heard of his boat building skills?"

The lone soul look stricken. He couldn't use any of his short cuts. He couldn't use his wood-eating machines. He was being evaluated by three very skilled masters. He could see now, arranged around him, a vast display of all sorts of tools from adzes to tiny bench planes that all but disappeared in one's hand. It was apparent that until he mastered each of those tools, he would never pass their test. It was going to take time, lots of time for the masters to favorably pass their judgment on his skills.

Resigned to his fate, he was taken aside by Bro. Ebeneezer and was started on the rudiments of blade sharpening and tool classifications.

Noah turned to Mr. Phyffe with a sly smile on his face. "Duncan, how long do you think it is going to take that soul to figure out that he's already here in heaven?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it is going to take him a long time to decide that working wood by hand tools is a heavenly experience," replied Mr. Phyffe. "Pass me the spittoon, would you?

Did I ever tell you about the table I made for...."

The scene fades to black. Cue the commercial.

Have a pleasant weekend boys.

<spit-tang> For the first time in three months, I'm goin' back into the shop for some quality time with my bench project. <spit-splut> sorry about that Paddy. It will wipe off those Nike airs with time.

Lee Sudlow