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By Don Audette
Special to the Rappahannock News
In high school, I had a window seat because we were lined up alphabetically. I spent much time gazing into space, thinking long thoughts. Like, what would be an ideal job.
I felt that checking precision micrometers for Starrett Tools, in Athol, Massachusetts was it. I had seen an illustration of their old factory, founded in 1880, in a catalog we had in the hardware store v here I worked after school. I had handled Starrett micrometers, felt their metallic heft, and admired their ability to measure things to one-thousandths of an inch.
In the Starrett catalog, the scene of the factory was idyllic. A small brick building, trees all around, and a river flowing by. I’d imagine myself seated at a long, well-worn wooden bench, in front of a series of windows overlooking the river. It would be spring, the leaves of trees looking light green and luminous with the sun behind them. I’d just had a good lunch. Someone would hand me a finished micrometer for its final check. A Starrett No. 230 Micrometer. My favorite.
Looking over its craftsmanship, checking this and that, I’d turn its knurled thimble and check its precision. “The micrometer is open one hundred and seventy-eight thousandths of an inch,” I’d say, smiling slightly. Then I would gently place it into its velvet-lined case, a case covered with leather, close it and give a final tap of approval. Then I’d gaze out the windows, observe the river flowing by, and think things over. I’d be content.
Fond memories
All this came back to me this spring when we took a
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