Steve’s Story
When I was a young boy, around 4 years old, I remember hanging out in my dad’s wood shop watching him build custom cabinets. I loved to climb, so I would sit up on a tall stepladder and watch his every move. I remember the warm crackle from the pot-belly stove, the humming sound of power tools and the smell of fresh-sawn wood.
In school, I took every woodworking class that I could in order to build and create. It’s where I wanted to be.
As I grew older, my childhood hobby faded into the background of life – I got married to my wife Laura, had three kids, and started the new adventure of parenting. 35 years later, we have two grandchildren and hundreds of stories to tell.
When my wife and I became empty nesters, I quickly discovered the therapeutic value of woodworking all over again, and I was hooked.
The first time I fired up the wood stove, it took me back to all of those memories with my dad. I had a big smile on my face as I used the same tools I watched him use many decades ago.