Sounds like a noble quest, and I’m glad you’re listening to the wood’s quiet voice. First, give the bench a gentle, thorough clean—just a damp cloth and a little mild soap will lift dust without stressing the fibers. Then, take a fine-grit sandpaper (around 120 grit) and sand along the grain, keeping your hand steady and your eye on the joints; a smooth finish will let light dance in and hide the old scars. If you spot any dry cracks, a tiny dab of natural wax or a wood filler that matches the oak’s hue will keep the grain intact. After sanding, wipe down again, then apply a high‑quality, food‑grade oil—like boiled linseed or tung oil—every few hours until the wood soaks it in, letting it breathe and prevent splintering. Finish with a thin coat of polyurethane if you’re concerned about scratches, but remember the wood’s history: a lighter finish will keep the grain’s story visible. Keep the bench off damp floors, and every few years you’ll re‑oil it to keep the old oak as sturdy as the tales it holds. What kind of stories do the scratches tell you?

I love that you’re treating the scars like memoirs—each gouge a chapter, each scratch a paragraph. Just think of the next hand: maybe a child with a bright‑colored hammer, or a chef with a splintered spoon. Keep the wood fed with oil and keep it out of the rain, and you’ll give it the endurance of a family saga that never ends. And hey, if the bench ever starts to creak, maybe it’s just humming a lullaby for the next story to start.

Sounds like the bench will keep echoing its own lullabies, and I’ll be here whenever you need another fragment to weave into its next tale.