To look at Paul, you might describe him as a typical man that grew up in rural America becoming one with the outside more than anything else. He begins his story by carving something out of wood and sharing how wood carving is what he does and why he loves it. He has a connection with nature and through that connection is where he bonded most with his father. Paul found his joy and his livelihood taking full trees from his backyard and carving them into tables and chairs and selling them, evening being asked to participate in a reality show that he happily declined. He wanted to do something that his father would be proud of. His father often talked about how important it was for a man to have rough hands, that you could learn a lot about a man based on how hard his hands were. As if a man's hands are reflection to how hard he works throughout his life. But Paul took all of these life moments to heart and sometimes his father would insult him because his hands were soft translating that into Paul being weak. It is when his father has a tragic accident that Paul wonders if he would ever live up to his father's expectations? This is a story about being able to connect with the person that we love the most even if we may not understand the reasons why they speak the words they speak. It showcases how grief can emotionally hold us back from living our lives and how sometimes we may never know the truth, but we still have to come to terms with that. A coming-of-age story of a country man who realizes that he must accept his past in order to move forward with the future that is in front of him that looks potentially very beautiful.
Two Owls
(Scene opens with Paul. A middle-aged man, simple, looks unassuming like he has a good heart. He carves something out of wood with a sharp knife. He slides his finger along the knife, it looks good.) I've always been good with my hands. I know I got that from my daddy. He was one of those hard-working men that had calluses on his hands before his 10th birthday. (Laughs) His friends used to call him “Hard Hand Henry” because his hands were so rough, like cement all the time. He’d tell me and my brother “Real men don’t use lotion, let those hands harden up and crack into pieces on you that just means you’ve been working your ass off. Hard hands means a hard life. Hard life means in the next one you get to sit by the pool and chase down a beer all day. Hard Hand Henry is a gift! A gift!” (He holds out his hands and looks at both sides of them imitating his father and laughing) All he knew was hard work, working outside, making something out of nothing, looking at the world through a completely different lens because he knew nothing was going to be handed to him, and that was a fact- nothing was handed to him. (Beat, he goes back to the knife and wood in his hand) My father wasn’t a visionary. He only saw what was in front of him. (Gazing at his work) I see art. I take a piece of wood and I put this knife to it, and I make something out of nothing and it’s beautiful. (Beat) “Ella” the shape is all right (showing audience) see this little divot right here? That’s her birth mark. (he touches that spot on his own face) Right here.