Growing up, my father was a bit of a handyman and carpenter. He fixed leaks, jerry-rigged solutions, and kept the house functioning with some sweat and duct tape. As I grew though, so did his knowledge on home improvement- and he move onto heavier carpentry, including furniture building, deck building and major home improvements.
Naturally then, my minor role as “flashlight-holder” grew into “beam-steadier”, “vegetation hauler” and then, “general assistant”. While a teenage girl isn’t so happy to be put into such roles, I was surprised to find in my first college theater tech class that I wasn’t completely confused when the scenic manager was describing the difference between a jigsaw and a radial arm saw. Or why 2×4’s aren’t actually 2″x4″. And that you only messed up a project if you couldn’t find a way to hide it.
From there, a love/hate relationship with carpentry and home improvement flourished. From building my first coffee table to tiling my backsplash, my dad has given me the skills (and more importantly, tools!) to get the job done. And luckily, my house has been the main beneficiary.
Is it any wonder then that the smell of sawdust reminds me of my dad?
Thanks Dad for all the help! Happy Father’s Day!