A Redirection

There are some things that just happen that you can’t see coming.
I started woodworking with my Dad in our cold, Western New York one-car garage back when gentlemen still wore hats and nobody cussed in public. It was usually fun, and always educational. I still remember messing about trying to build stuff, and having Daddy walk by and very gently suggest doing it “like this” and experiencing the resulting Cecil B. DeMille parting of the clouds with the chorus singing in the background… Fast forward to college, where I had dorm-mates requesting me to help them build shelves for their stereos and tv’s (cable was still a fairly new idea, then.) My shop consisted of a circular saw, an electric hand drill and bits, and an Estwing hammer. The shop grew only slightly during the early years of marriage and home-moanership. You don’t need a huge shop to refinish gunstocks, you know?
Soon, however, the urge grew in me to make more, cooler things. During my time in seminary the creative juices seemed to flow and table saws, benchtop drill presses, and a respectable number of hand tools seemed to follow me home. Being appointed as a pastor to churches that always needed nice bookcases or little wooden crosses gave me a respectable excuse to relieve my tension in the woodshop. I never saw seminary coming, that was a surprise. I never saw leaving the vocational ministry coming, either, but I’ve been working in the civil engineering field for the last two years.
Right now I am presently just a couple more commissions away from becoming a full-time woodworker. I didn’t see that one coming, either, but it seems to be where I need to be. Now if someone could just tell me how in the world to price your work…

-- There's no tool like an old tool...