(If you missed Part 2 of the trilogy, click here)
My family has three boys, and I am the second-best (and thus the most well-adjusted). I was the one who shadowed my fathers every move. If he liked it, I liked it too. So I worked on model A engines, rebuilt Corvettes, and restored a 1947 MG. My dad was very interested in cars.
Im fortunate that Dad decided to build furniture. Naturally, this meant that I also wanted to build furniture. As Dad acquired woodworking tools, I found one that fit me perfectly. At the ripe old age of 13, I needed projects that were cheap, didnt take forever to complete, and had a low barrier of entry as far as the initial learning curve. The lathe was perfect for me.
I got started turning bowls and grew a little better with each endeavor. I created bowl after bowl after bowl from a single block of hardwood. After a while, I figured that because I mastered this aspect of woodworking (hey Id been at it for better than three months!) I might as well venture forth into something new , building furniture.
Dad was amused when I told him. He suggested that I read some woodworking books in order to find my first project. The only books he owned at the time were the ones he had read in high school.
It had turning, at which I felt more-than-accomplished. It was something I felt I could do. Can you say lofty expectations? But Dad caved to my begging, and we were off to the lumberyard come Saturday.
My Dad helped me build the bed over the next few days, weeks, or months. Depending on who you believe, he may have built the bed while I was watching. That bed is still mine, and I look forward to telling this story from it.
Years passed. I finished high school, graduated from college and decided to start my own business. I had to; no one would hire me. So I took Dad out of semi-retirement to start a building business (that’s what Dad had done semi-retired). It didnt fly. After working for several years for other builders, I decided to try it again. I pulled dad from semi-retirement (again). After a year of building relationships with family and friends, I realized that I was unhappy and it grew stronger by the day. In fact, I was so aggravated that I could bite a nail in half. I knew it was time to move on.
What I loved about homebuilding was rough framing. You worked hard, then you walked back to the street and saw what your efforts had accomplished. And every few days the project changed and was new again.
Where else could I get this instant feedback and a new project every few days? That’s woodworking. I knew where I had to go, and started in that direction. As my career in homebuilding came to an end, I began to build stairs, paneled fireplace walls and other built-in pieces for new construction.
This led to a unique project: a full bar featuring a card-sharks theme. It allowed me to return to full-time furniture building. The funds earned would carry me until I had been juried into a show and sold a couple of pieces. And it did , along with a second healthy dose of money.
I sent notices out to my accounts, closed the doors again and started another business. To the dismay and delight of many, building furniture became my profession. As you can see, I was able again to drag Dad out from retirement to show Dad our furniture and to travel across the country selling it.
