Harry's Legacy
Remembering Harry (Dad) on his 100th Birthday
Today, June 1, 2025, Harry (Dad) would have been 100 years old.
In his prime years, you could normally find Dad in what became known over time as Harry’s Tool Shed, named after him, of course.
Two years ago, just six months after starting Life UnCorked, I wrote a story, which became one of the most popular one to day, to commemorate Dad’s 98th birthday.
The story is about a chance encounter that led to one of the strangest conversations I’ve ever had. I’m still not sure if it actually took place or if it was a dream. As I put right in the title below, you be the judge …
In the years since his passing, Dad’s presence and influence are still very much felt there. No one knows that better than Harry’s Tool Shed himself.
I was surprised that this old tool shed knew so much and spoke so well. But it made sense because he has heard many conversations over the years, and you know what they say, “A tool shed never forgets anything”.
Well, something like that anyway.
As you read, try to ignore the fact that I’m talking with an actual tool shed. Albeit, a fairly famous one.
At least in some folk’s minds.
I don’t think I can top that conversation, so, in memory of Harry on what would be his 100th birthday, I would like to republish this fun story, written from the perspective of Harry’s Tool Shed, Dad’s favorite place to hang out.
I hope you will find it as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
Yes, Harry's Tool Shed Is Real - This Conversation? Well, You Be The Judge ...
The day started about as perfect as I could have asked for. Clear skies. Cool breeze. The smell of salt marsh. Just a beautiful morning.
One of my favorite things to do when my wife and I stay at our family place on Edisto Island, SC is to get up at dawn and go sit out on the dock with a steaming cup of my favorite brew, a couple of slices of sourdough toast generously slathered with butter and fruit jam, and my camera.
Russell Creek is a wide tidal river surrounded by an even wider expanse of salt marsh which offers an unobstructed view of the Eastern sunrise.
At that time of day, the temperature is still relatively cool and the gnats are not up yet. A very peaceful setting, indeed. I’ve gotten some spectacular sunrise shots over the years from this spot.
I have been coming here ever since I can remember. I have often reflected on how fortunate we are to have this place, passed down from generation to generation.
After getting a few good photos of the sunrise, it was time to get on with the day now.
Little did I know ...
As always, my wife had a few “projects” lined up. It’s incredible how these projects never seem to take a vacation at the same time we do.
Anyway, she asked me to go out to the tool shed to get what she needed.
Harry’s Tool Shed has become an icon over the years. It has been the central headquarters for any project on the Brick House property (A collection of various family cottages built by my grandmother’s generation).
If you needed a tool, you went to Harry’s Tool Shed.
If you had questions about something, you could usually find Harry, aka Dad, around.
As the name implies, Harry’s Tool Shed was named for my Dad, who became the de facto “go-to guy” on the property. Any time someone needed something done, they called Harry.
When I walked into the tool shed that morning, the first thing I noticed was that nothing was where it should have been. I couldn’t find what my wife needed for “our” project.
“You know, Mistuh Harry would know exactly where to find those tools. One of his pet peeves was tools not being put back and having to track them down.”
Startled, I looked around. I didn’t see anyone.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hello.” the voice called back.
“Alright, you can come out now”, I said.
“I am out”, it said. “You’re the one who’s actually standing inside”, said the voice with a little chuckle.
Confused, I continued to look around and try to process whose voice I might be hearing. It was not one I could recollect.
“Is this really happening?” I asked myself.
“Don’t be scared,” the voice said. “I know it is unusual to have a conversation with a tool shed. Mostly I just stay in the background and provide what’s needed for various projects.”
A tool shed? I was talking with a tool shed? Harry’s Tool Shed?
Maybe I hadn’t really gotten up this morning and was still dreaming. But, I knew that wasn’t true.
“Today I decided to break my silence”, he continued, “because Mistuh Harry’s a great man. We worked together for many years and with this being his 100th birthday anniversary, I wanted to do something special for him. I figured you would be the one to talk to since you’re the writer in the family.”
How did he know that I wondered.
My mind briefly wandered to the old TV series, Mr. Ed, the Talking Horse. But this took things to a whole new level.
And it wasn’t just a TV show. This was real.
“Over the years, I have overheard many conversations”, H.T. said. So, I just tuck things away, just in case. You know, like today.”
“OK, I’m game. What did you want to talk about?”, not knowing what else to say.
And he was right. Today was Dad’s birthday. Maybe this would be a good way to get a few ideas to write about from someone who has spent so much time with him.
Shaking my head, I thought, “Was I going crazy? Here I was having a normal conversation with a tool shed.”
Also, I was fascinated by his deep Carolina Lowcountry accent, being a tool shed and all.
“Well Suh, in the beginning when I was a very young tool shed, my Granddaddy, Boppa’s Tool Shed, was still with us. I called him Big T.
“My Daddy, on the other hand, was just a cabin. He was built more for a life of leisure. He was not into tools or hard work. Big T. said he was kinda’ lazy, but he was fun to be around. And I loved him, too.
“So, most of the tool shed skills I learned came from Big T. Up until the time he passed, when I was around eight, we did everything together. I miss him so much, even after all these years.
“He was a stately old Southern shed with a coat of weathered green paint, large barn doors on the front, a small balcony inside across the back, and a lean-to shed roof on each side for boat storage. Yessuh, I come from good stock.
“With him gone, I became the head tool shed. Well, actually the only tool shed.
“First thing Mistuh Harry did was build a workbench along one of my walls with some pegboard and bins to relocate all the tools from Boppa’s Toolshed. Then he built the large boat shed off my back wall and the shed roof on my left side to park Mrs. Alice’s golf cart.
“For a while, I didn’t have a name, but when I assumed most of the responsibility for the work that needed to be done, I fulfilled my dream of becoming a real tool shed. With a real name. It’s right there above the door.
“It’s an honor I’ll never forget, as long as I’m still standing upright.
“Ever since then, up until the time Mistuh Harry passed (I could almost visualize him bowing his head in respect when he said that), we had a special relationship.
As Mistuh Harry would say, we fit together like ‘socks on a rooster’. I never could quite figure that one out, but the way he said it was funny.”
“That was one of Dad’s favorite sayings,” I said. “It was around the time when Dad began the first renovation of the house, right?”
“Yessuh. Mistuh Harry was always workin’ on something. I don’t want to call him cheap”, he said with a slight grin, “but he was always trying to ‘save a nickel’ when getting the materials for whatever project he was working on.”
I laughed. That was Dad, alright. A penny-pincher to the core.
“Like the times he would get y’all to bring some of y’all’s friends down for the week to help. He would tell ‘em that if they would put in a good mawnin’s work, they could go have fun in the creek the rest of the day.”
“Of, course, he would always try to get more out of those boys, but around lunchtime, one by one, they would leave whatever it was they were doing and go jump in the creek.
“Mistuh Harry would get so upset that they didn’t finish what they were working on before they left. It was kinda funny to watch.”
“One of his famous tactics”, I chimed in, “was to say, “While you’re resting, I need you to do something for me.”
That trick had become old hat to most of us, but it was fun to watch him catch someone off-guard the first time they heard it.”
“And Mrs. Alice’s cookin’ usually sealed the deal,” H.T. said.
Yeah, he knew. Mom’s cooking was almost as famous as Harry’s Tool Shed.
“During our teen years, many of our friends were initiated into Dad’s work/play deal,” I said. “It’s funny that, even though the guys knew what they were in for, they came back again and again. They loved being around Dad and Mom.
“Secretly, they all liked working with Dad, even though they complained about how he did things.”
H.T. said, “Yeah, I’ll never forget hearing Mistuh Harry early in the mawnin’ trying to get the boys up so he could get at least a good half day of work out of them before lunch.
“I can still hear him, ‘Come on, get up ya’ lazy bums’.”
“Oh yeah, that was Dad, alright. So, what are some of the other things you remember about Dad”, I asked.
I was talking with him now as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Was I going crazy?
H.T. thought for a minute.
“Well, Mistuh Harry was a generous man. I know I said before that he was always trying to ‘save a nickel’, but on the other hand, he would give you his ‘last nickel’ if you needed help.
“It was kinda’ funny hearing some of your brother’s friends joke that Mistuh Harry was known as the Harry National Bank.”
“That is funny. But, it was true. He would help any one of us out without hesitation”, I said.
“What was working with Dad like? How did he treat others? Did you ever see him get upset or mad?”
“Well, after years of working with Mistuh Harry, I picked up on a few things. He was always genuinely glad to see people. Friendly with just about everybody. And he always spoke first when greeting someone.
The only time I ever saw him mad, was when he couldn’t find a tool or something he needed.
“He would, as they say down heyuh’ in the Lowcountry, ‘cuss ‘em a very big cuss’. Nothing vulgar, mind you, but just expressing his frustration with people not bringing his tools back.
“Then he would go off to find what he was looking for and the person who was responsible. They would get one of Mistuh Harry’s famous lectures about being responsible. Then it was over. I never knew him to ban anyone from using his tools.”
“Yes, I’ve been on the receiving end of a few of those lectures”, I said, laughing.
“Is there anything else you can remember?”, I asked. “I know I’ve taken up a lot of your time (I mean, he was a tool shed, what else did he have to do?) and my wife is probably wondering where I am.”
“Well, I know Mistuh Harry made an impact on a lot of people. I heard over and over through the years what a special man he was.
“And there is one last thing”, he said with a chuckle in his voice. “He couldn’t stand when someone misspelled his last name. Whenever he had to give it to someone, he always spelled it out.”
“Yeah, I know”, I interrupted. “He drilled that into each of us that when we were growing up. ‘Always spell it out’”, he would say. “‘H-U-T-S-O-N. That’s with a T, not a D’”.
We both laughed.
I told him how much I appreciated him talking with me.
“My pleasure”, he said. “I’ve never had a story written about me before, so I hope it’s a good one.”
We said our goodbyes and I walked back to the house. I had two thoughts, more like questions, in my mind:
First, “Did I really just have an actual conversation with a tool shed?”
Then, “What was I going to say to my wife?”
Then, as I was about to go in, I heard a voice behind me, “Hey, you forgot something”.
I looked back. The tools I had gone to get were sitting in the doorway of Harry’s Toolshed.
How did he know what I wanted, I wondered.
Love you, Dad. You will always be close to our hearts.
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Cork, I love it! We used to take vacations to Myrtle Beach when we 'was kids', back in the day. Fell in love with that colorful southern draw. Can feel the love and respect, and wisdom talking via that old tool shed. My pappap had that vibe and could fix anything. Fixin' a bike wheel out of of bent, or a lawn mower that wouldn't start. Learned so much. What a special gift your dad gave. Thanks for writin' it down, Cork 'Hutson'!