Christmas Pay It Forward

I have some items I would like to move to new homes where they can be used and enjoyed instead of sitting in my PIF box. I have had them on the BST at various times, and this collection of poor shaving items feel like they are on the Isle of Misfit Toys.



Razors
Type J Schick injector
GEM Feather Weight
Parker adjustable v2 injector



Brushes
AP Shave Co faux marble, 30mm SynBad
Yaqi Mysterious Space 26mm tuxedo
Trotter Handcrafts Cities from Space 28mm Timberwolf

Soap
Mitchell's Wool Fat, grated into a tub, never used to shave, only test lathered on a new boar brush. 


To enter, please post a favorite Christmas or Seasonal memory, something that will make us smile when we read it. On or after December 25, I will randomly pick an entry, and PM that person. This person gets to pick a razor and a brush, to do with as they please. If not for themselves, I'd ask that you consider gifting it to someone who would be interested in it. That first person can also take the soap, if so desired. Second person will get to choose from what is left, one of each, and the third will get what is left. And if any person only wanted an item, I am ok with that! My goal is getting my unused gear into hands that will use it. So who know, there may be more than 3 "winners."

I have some items I would like to move to new homes where they can be used and enjoyed instead of sitting in my PIF box. I have had them on the BST at various times, and this collection of poor shaving items feel like they are on the Isle of Misfit Toys.



Razors
Type J Schick injector
GEM Feather Weight
Parker adjustable v2 injector



Brushes
AP Shave Co faux marble, 30mm SynBad
Yaqi Mysterious Space 26mm tuxedo
Trotter Handcrafts Cities from Space 28mm Timberwolf

Soap
Mitchell's Wool Fat, grated into a tub, never used to shave, only test lathered on a new boar brush. 


To enter, please post a favorite Christmas or Seasonal memory, something that will make us smile when we read it. On or after December 25, I will randomly pick an entry, and PM that person. This person gets to pick a razor and a brush, to do with as they please. If not for themselves, I'd ask that you consider gifting it to someone who would be interested in it. That first person can also take the soap, if so desired. Second person will get to choose from what is left, one of each, and the third will get what is left. And if any person only wanted an item, I am ok with that! My goal is getting my unused gear into hands that will use it. So who know, there may be more than 3 "winners."

Wooh, Cities in Space is a Gorgeous brush. Nice Pif Eric

Very generous of you Eric.

A few pics of Cities From Space:






This pour was done by Eric Smattayu and turned by myself way back in April of 21.

Very generous. Kudos.

Ok let’s get some action going on this awesome offering…

This isn’t necessarily a specific holiday moment, but the last few years my wife and I have opted to not get each other Christmas gifts and instead do an adopt-a-family though her parents’ church. We’ve realized that it’s much more fun to buy gifts for a family that we’re sure will enjoy them more than whatever we would be getting for each other, and it’s kindof fun to be sitting there Christmas morning thinking about them opening gifts and hopefully being excited by what we chose.

It also makes me realize that I need to make an effort to be more philanthropical year-round. I need to make it a resolution for the new year.

I have been sitting on my hands for this most generous offer as I think that Cities from Space handle is TOO cool to give away.

My story/memory comes from when my oldest was 4. My wife and I had spent late night Christmas Eve assembling one of those big train tables with wooden tracks and train cars attached with magnets. When at the top of the steps he spotted the table and was very excited. Gasping as he descended each step little exclamations of "Wow, I can't believe it, wow, . . .). Pure joy and happiness. I have never seen him more excited about anything since that morning. That table was a fixture in our family room for several years, long after all 4 children stopped playing with it. It made a great coffee/snack table. Hope it made you smile. No, I'm not crying, *you* are.

I lost my Dad two years ago just after Christmas.  John R. Darrington was a hard man from the old school who didn’t spend a lot of time hugging people and maybe less time verbalizing affection.  He grew up in the mountain town of Elba Idaho, the 7th of 9 children born to Lorenzo and Ruby.  In fact, I was raised ranching in that same small community.  As you might guess, cash money was never plentiful and Christmas gifts never took up too much room in our old three bedroom home but our tree was always pretty.  I still recall the smell of fresh-cut fir as I set up my plastic tree these days.  I harken  back to Christmas Tree cutting day when Dad would declare “today’s the day” and we would grab a bow saw and some bailing twine, jump in the pick-up, and head up Merlins Canyon to hike over the drag trail onto Stump Flat and start our search for a pleasing tree and brother we’d eyeball a lot of trees before we would deem one our Christmas tree of that year. It had to be the right height to fit floor to ceiling.  It had to be evenly full on all sides.  The top had to stand straight and proud.  It had to have that perfect pyramid Christmas tree shape.  It had to be a tree that mom would love.  And we’d hike until we found IT.  But as we searched, we found other trees that were almost, but not quite, perfect and we never came off the mountain without at least two trees because we would also cut a tree for my dads much older brother Uncle Keith and Aunt Vivian.  Their home was three miles from ours and on our way home and  In fact often that “perfect” tree would end up in Vivians house because Dad would always line up the trees we had cut and let her choose the pick of the litter.  
     When the perfect tree was found, and when other worthy candidates had been located and sawn, we would throw a loop of hay twine around the trunk of the trees and drag them over the snow, down the mountain, and back to the truck.  If snow wasn’t sufficiently deep to cushion the needles from the sagebrush and rocks, we’d hoist them onto a shoulder and with head buried inside the fragrant bows, wend our way back to the vehicle.  After the trees were loaded we’d take a long drink out of the canteen, pile into the truck, and drive down out of the canyon.  We didn’t sing Christmas carols or visit about what cool stuff was in the Sears catalog.  In fact if words were exchanged it would be about some fence that needed fixing or perhaps some banter about a new colt Orville Sears was working on.  By then we’d be passing Maimes place and then rolling by the Barkers ranch and up the hill to Keith’s house where Vivian would choose her tree, then onto our house.  When we’d drive down the lane, the dogs would run out to meet us and sound the alarm that the tree was here.  Kids would start emerging from the house and by the time we got there we’d have a proper welcoming committee!  Mom would always comment “I think this tree is even prettier than last years” and Dad would cut the trunk square so it’d stand straight, nail the old wooden base we’d made years ago to the tree, and we’d squeeze it through the door and set it in its place of honor in the front window.  By then the day was growing late and it was time to do the chores so we’d jump back in the truck to go load it with alfalfa bales to feed the cows.  I remember always being excited to get the chores done because when we got home mom and sis would have the tree all trimmed and the lights would be on and gleaming through the window to greet us as we pulled up in the dark.  Ah, Christmas Tree day.  The house would be warm, there would be hot supper, and the smells of the fresh fir mixed with the tar smell of the lump coal stove will always mean Christmas to me.

Ok let’s get some action going on this awesome offering…

This isn’t necessarily a specific holiday moment, but the last few years my wife and I have opted to not get each other Christmas gifts and instead do an adopt-a-family though her parents’ church. We’ve realized that it’s much more fun to buy gifts for a family that we’re sure will enjoy them more than whatever we would be getting for each other, and it’s kindof fun to be sitting there Christmas morning thinking about them opening gifts and hopefully being excited by what we chose.

It also makes me realize that I need to make an effort to be more philanthropical year-round. I need to make it a resolution for the new year.

Wonderful Christmas spirit! Thank you for sharing!

I have been sitting on my hands for this most generous offer as I think that Cities from Space handle is TOO cool to give away.

My story/memory comes from when my oldest was 4. My wife and I had spent late night Christmas Eve assembling one of those big train tables with wooden tracks and train cars attached with magnets. When at the top of the steps he spotted the table and was very excited. Gasping as he descended each step little exclamations of "Wow, I can't believe it, wow, . . .). Pure joy and happiness. I have never seen him more excited about anything since that morning. That table was a fixture in our family room for several years, long after all 4 children stopped playing with it. It made a great coffee/snack table. Hope it made you smile. No, I'm not crying, *you* are.

This did bring a smile! A child's pure joy and happiness is beautiful to behold!

I lost my Dad two years ago just after Christmas.  John R. Darrington was a hard man from the old school who didn’t spend a lot of time hugging people and maybe less time verbalizing affection.  He grew up in the mountain town of Elba Idaho, the 7th of 9 children born to Lorenzo and Ruby.  In fact, I was raised ranching in that same small community.  As you might guess, cash money was never plentiful and Christmas gifts never took up too much room in our old three bedroom home but our tree was always pretty.  I still recall the smell of fresh-cut fir as I set up my plastic tree these days.  I harken  back to Christmas Tree cutting day when Dad would declare “today’s the day” and we would grab a bow saw and some bailing twine, jump in the pick-up, and head up Merlins Canyon to hike over the drag trail onto Stump Flat and start our search for a pleasing tree and brother we’d eyeball a lot of trees before we would deem one our Christmas tree of that year. It had to be the right height to fit floor to ceiling.  It had to be evenly full on all sides.  The top had to stand straight and proud.  It had to have that perfect pyramid Christmas tree shape.  It had to be a tree that mom would love.  And we’d hike until we found IT.  But as we searched, we found other trees that were almost, but not quite, perfect and we never came off the mountain without at least two trees because we would also cut a tree for my dads much older brother Uncle Keith and Aunt Vivian.  There home was three miles from ours and on our way home and  In fact often that “perfect” tree would end up in Vivians house because Dad would always line up the trees we had cut and let her choose the pick of the litter.  
     When the perfect tree was found, and when other worthy candidates had been located and sawn, we would throw a loop of hay twine around the trunk of the trees and drag them over the snow, down the mountain, and back to the truck.  If snow wasn’t sufficiently deep to cushion the needles from the sagebrush and rocks, we’d hoist them onto a shoulder and with head buried inside the fragrant bows, wend our way back to the vehicle.  After the trees were loaded we’d take a long drink out of the canteen, pile into the truck, and drive down out of the canyon.  We didn’t sing Christmas carols or visit about what cool stuff was in the Sears catalog.  In fact if words were exchanged it would be about some fence that needed fixing or perhaps some banter about a new colt Orville Sears was working on.  By then we’d be passing Maimes place and then rolling by the Barkers ranch and up the hill to Keith’s house where Vivian would choose her tree, then onto our house.  When we’d drive down the lane, the dogs would run out to meet us and sound the alarm that the tree was here.  Kids would start emerging from the house and by the time we got there we’d have a proper welcoming committee!  Mom would always comment “I think this tree is even prettier than last years” and Dad would cut the trunk square so it’d stand trailhead, nail the old wooden base we’d made years ago to the tree, and we’d squeeze it through the door and set it in its place of honor in the front window.  By then the day was growing late and it was time to do the chores so we’d jump back in the truck to go load it with alfalfa bales to feed the cows.  I remember always being excited to get the chores done because when we got home mom and sis would have the tree all trimmed and the lights would be on and gleaming through the window to greet us as we pulled up in the dark.  Ah, Christmas Tree day.  The house would be warm, there would be hot supper, and the smells of the fresh fir mixed with the tar smell of the lump coal stove will always mean Christmas to me.

A very nice read, and touching, too. I remember similar days as a boy, and the Christmas smell of a real tree, beautifully decorated, and always the center of attention, regardless of the gifts that may be under its boughs.

I have been sitting on my hands for this most generous offer as I think that Cities from Space handle is TOO cool to give away.

My story/memory comes from when my oldest was 4. My wife and I had spent late night Christmas Eve assembling one of those big train tables with wooden tracks and train cars attached with magnets. When at the top of the steps he spotted the table and was very excited. Gasping as he descended each step little exclamations of "Wow, I can't believe it, wow, . . .). Pure joy and happiness. I have never seen him more excited about anything since that morning. That table was a fixture in our family room for several years, long after all 4 children stopped playing with it. It made a great coffee/snack table. Hope it made you smile. No, I'm not crying, *you* are.

Love love love this,story!  Thanks for sharing.