Watch your fingers.

A lifelong love affair with wood started with a simple tool.

My first pocket knife, I must have been 5 maybe 6 years old, and I needed something to cut. Something to carve. Once I got the blade open on the tiny folder and didn’t cut my own fingers, I found the closest stick. With one end whittled to a sharp point I’d made my first walking stick… or was it a shive? I don’t remember.

A little bigger knife and a little bigger piece of wood allow me to merge the two. The wood took shape as another, larger knife. Out of my own imagination the wood took shape. First it was carving recreations of small everyday objects. Then came electricity. A sharp blade manipulated in short, careful strokes became a power tool. Table saw, router, drill press and a chop saw.

Each had a uniquely shaped blade and a purpose. But all that came later. Start with the dust. My first job was sweeping. I sheepishly asked if it was okay to pull a push broom. When you get into the corner of the shop, you run out of room to push. You have to pull to sweep the dust out. Dad told me it was a push broom. So, maybe I’m doing something wrong.