My grandpa was a farmer/carpenter by trade who spent his life in strife against economics of the times.
He was an extremely intelligent person who was far thinking in many respects. He died in 1955 when I was a boy after a hard life where he lost his wife early and had four children to house, feed and clothe. In his later years near his end it was particularly hard because that ingrown toenail he went to see a doctor about developed into full blown gangrene and cost him his leg above the knee.
All that said, his shop out behind the house I lived in during my early years with no water or plumbing, was a treasure trove of wonder. Piled high with oak planks, machines and contraptions a boy could only marvel at. The kind of belt-driven machines powered by some old engine he pulled out of a car. Mechanical galore.
That shop stayed as it was the day he died until 1971 when my mom moved back when dad died in 1971 and I was overseas and came home to bury him. Soon after when I was back on station, she built a house where that shop stood. The contractor took the whole damn thing, and only the two stall barn remained. The day I found out about it was one of the saddest days of my life. I only have an Illinois pocket watch, a 100 year old 100 lb bench vise, and a fold up 6 ft ruler (which the same company makes today BTW).
What I wouldn’t give to be able to rummage through that shop today.
My first husband’s grandpa had a similar shed on his rural property in IL. He saved and organized everything. If he had a few inches of string, it was saved, knotted to another piece, and rolled into massive balls. He was awesome. Certainly a contrast to today’s buy-and-toss mentality.
I am sorry you didn’t get to go through the shop before it was destroyed.
Odds are that Mr. Phillips’ Grandpa knew what every item was, how to use it and where it came from.
I don't see his artistry as OCD but rather as a love for his grandfather.
For most normal people, what we wouldn't give to spend another week with our parents and grandparents, missing them as much as we do.
Guess its either maturity or just getting nostalgic.