I am the recipient of the huge, black, Severson drill press given to me by my great grand father, who came over from Germany in 1902. I do not know if you have ever seen a Severson drill press, but the craftsmanship is something to be proud of. Everything is hand crafted, pulleys, gears, and even the key that tightens the chuck. My grandfather who inherited this drill press from his father just passed it down to me. I can remember endless hours watching my grandfather working with the press, drilling holes in decoy bodies or just doing odd jobs for the neighbors. He always told me the sang "keep your eye on the metal and not on the bit because its not the bit that your name Glessing 2 is on it's the product that the bit makes."� This sang often times has run through my mind when I think of my grandfather but, never more so when he was in the hospital last year dieing of lung cancer.
I remember that Monday just like yesterday. I was sitting behind the drill press fixing a wheel bushing on the neighbors Toro lawn mower. It was a ugly, red, piece of junk, but all the time my grandfathers sang keep echoing in my head "its your name on that job"�. I then hustled to finish boring the wheel to one half-inch diameter and began inserting the long brass sleeve into the wheel when the phone rang. I answered it was my grandmother, she sounded concerned, she quietly asked, "May I speak with your father."� This was a rather new development because it was never my grandmother who called asking for my father it was always my grandfather looking for a hunting buddy or someone to help him work on his old, rusted, pink, 1958 Cadillac. I soon felt chills running down my spine I immediately shut off the huge press as it ground to a halt I heard my dad say Glessing 3 "oh no!"� I had no idea what was going on could this be a fatal heart attack, or maybe a