10228 Fischer Pl. NE Seattle, WA 98125 neseattletoollibrary@gmail.com (206) 524-6062

Meet a Tool #4

By Lee the Laser Level

Have you ever Witnessed the swift dissent of the Osprey? What about the agile attack of a lion? Have you examined the edge of a naturally formed crystal or the perfect path of a raindrop? Precision is all around us and though we cannot always measure it with the naked eye, we know it when we see it. The straightness of a sunray reflecting off the sea or the flatness of a still lake on a windless day. And to be part of that precision, to be a vessel that might usher in such exactness, that is a cleanliness known only by Gods, and a few lucky tools. 

The danger of striving for such perfection of course is in the near miss. No one faults the splatter painter for painting over the line. The abstractionist causes no anger for a squiggle. But the tiler, with all her tiles in parallel but for one eccentric square akimbo? She casts a sin upon a surface that allows the viewer to see nothing but that askew ceramic. 

I am not the lion or the raindrop. I am not the sea nor the lake. I am the stillness of the hunt, I am the swift dive. I am not the perfection. I am the trick of the eye that allows a catch of the perfect found in the illusion of light. I am the dispeller of eccentricity. I am a laser level. Borrow me from the NE Seattle Tool Library and glimpse the precision that is everything.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MwCJpEuC44

It Takes One to Build One

By Tracy the Table Saw

Sometimes you need a flashlight to find a flashlight, your glasses to see where you put your glasses. Sometimes it takes a knife to open the packaging on a new knife. Or maybe you need some food to help make the decision of where to get food. But right now, at this moment, you don’t need a flashlight or a knife. You just ate a snack and you know what, you don’t even wear glasses. No, what you need now is a table. You need a place to set down your glasses and to eat your food. An object to hold your other objects. That’s where I come in. I am a table saw. I can rip a board right down the middle then I can turn it sideways and crosscut the wood in half the other way. I can take an ⅛ of inch off a 2×2 as well as any planer out there. I can give you a 1” deep groove straight as a pipe. Now I know I am not the table you think you need. You think you need a table to gather around, to break bread at, to eat and drink and discuss and live at. I am not that table. I am a table with a blade that rotates at 3,450 rotations per minute. What I am is the table that can make that table. So borrow me from the NE Seattle Tool Library because sometimes it takes a table to make a table.


Missing: Benjamin the Bench Planer1’5″, Yellow and Black, Bald. Last seen reducing a cedar board by 1/16th of an Inch at the NE Seattle Tool LibraryReward: 1 year free membership

Eulogy of Nathan the Nailer

Hello, my name is Henric, I’m a rubber air hose, and I was Nate’s best friend. Today we mourn Nathan the Nail Gun. Nathan, or Nate to his friends, was a great pneumatic roofing nailer who helped many a roof stay put. He lived fast and shot faster.  But eventually all that hard living caught up to him and he jammed up for the last time. Some say that he didn’t get enough pneumatic tool oil, some say that people set their regulated pressure to too high a PSI.

Me, I think he had just shot all the nails he was gonna shoot. Nathan didn’t have a lot of close friends, perhaps because many thought him too loud and abrupt. But with the right ear protection, you could hear what he really was trying to say, “Stay together. Be attached.” Nate was no Buddist. He believed firmly in the idea of attachment to all things. Nathan is survived by his brother Navid the siding nailer and Nancy the flooring nailer. Our hearts and our fasteners go out to you. Nate, we will remember you for your generosity of nail and your wisdom of word, even if it was too loud. Nathan once said “we pneumatics are the only guns built to create instead of destroy.” Well, our sweet tool, may you hold together the clouds of heaven.

Ruth Hammer Ginsberg

Ruth Hammer Ginsberg was a rotohammer. Perhaps one of the greatest rotohammers in our nation’s history. She knew just where to drill and how hard to press. And once she found the spot to drill, she didn’t stop until she broke through. Many people were skeptical of her and her lofty ambitions. They would look at the thick concrete she planned to drill through and they would scoff. “No one’s ever penetrated such thick material, and you, you’re tiny. What do you think you are, a jackhammer?”

But Ruth was persistent, and deceptively strong and hardworking. Plus she knew how to both hammer and drill so she could maneuver through layers that other tools couldn’t dent. Many younger hammers and drills looked up to her and saw what she accomplished, and she inspired them to accomplish great things too. Ruth passed on earlier this year, just when we felt we needed her most, but she had broken her share of concrete. Now it is our turn to pick up where she left off. As we chip away at the hard surfaces that impede our structures, we would do well to remember her important words “So often in life, things that you regard as an impediment turn out to be great, good fortune.” It is hard to see your loss as anything close to a good fortunate, but I, for one, will use your memory to keep up the good work. She also said “I would like to be remembered as someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability.” That’s sure how I remember you. Much love Ruth.