Wood, it’s been the one consistent thing through out my 47 years. All i’ve ever wanted to do is make beautiful furniture. The joy and satisfaction i get out of completing a piece is incredible. The only thing i can compare it to is the way my sisters discribe giving birth to their children, and yes they think i’m nuts.
My first workshop was in the basement on Cameron ave. in Cambride. It was a three family house and the people on the third floor didn’t use their section of the cellar. Down there i found a pile of moldy wood and old pallets. I got down to work i took apart the pallets ,saving the nails, and proceeded to build my first workbench. It wasn’t particularly stable but it had a top and a back board to hang my first tools. A hammer, a couble of screwdrivers and a hacksaw which in the process of building the bench i cut partway through my thumb. This ofcourse totally this freaked my mom out! She got one of the neighbors to drive us to the hospital where they stitched me up. the whole time ma being a nervous wreck but hey i didn’t care i built something and i felt on top of the world. i know it sounds silly but hey i was 8 years old.