I originally drafted this on my birthday in November, but circumstances kept me from editing and posting it (you’ll see below). However, I’ve adapted it as an end of year post instead. Having been born near the end of a decade, I get to be extra reflective this time of year as milestone birthdays land at the end of decades…
I’ll add as a preface that I have historically been a very private person. And, this does not include all the details of the last few months (I wish to remain a little private, at least). However, I’ve noticed more and more just how much of a veneer social media provides. People who follow along on Instagram or Facebook...they only see what we post...and that’s both misleading and dangerous...potentially creating an environment where people all appear to be happy, productive, and enjoying elaborate meals every day. This is not an original thought….just a reality that I experienced a little differently. Over the past few months, friends and acquaintances would run into me and mention how it seemed like I was busy in the shop...and this was a very inaccurate reflection of things, leading to an awkward discussion. That’s a very long and meandering way of saying that I think we all benefit from sharing our life experiences, both positive and challenging, with one another. Now, on with the story.
39 was probably the hardest year of my life and potentially also the most rewarding.
After nearly a decade of working toward the goal of running this business full-time, in June, I left my full-time government job to pursue it (I maintain a 16 hr/week commitment there). The decision was both really hard (it was the best job I’ve ever had) and also obvious (I thought about making stuff all the time, and had plenty of orders). Still, bucking convention: leaving a stable job with people I liked and important work for a life of gluing sticks together...bit of a leap. Good thing I’m naturally a weirdo.
In August, my brother Chris died. He was only 43. It was sudden and has been so hard in so many ways. He had recently begun woodworking and it was something we were able to share and discuss. As the younger brother further along this particular path, I was able to help and support him. I’m glad we had that. And I’m glad we have the things he made.
Just about the time I was starting to feel like life was a new normal, I got hit by a bus. Literally. I was riding my bicycle on my way to the office job and I got rear-ended (it was only a shuttle bus). Initially, everything appeared to be pretty minor: cuts, bruises, a wonky wrist, and a new Harry Potter scar on my forehead (no magic, yet...but it’s pretty much just a matter of time). A few days later though, some post-concussion symptoms set in: dizziness, nausea, eye aches, and limited ability to work on screens. But people have been through much worse...check out the Jocko podcast with Kristi Ennis to hear a real American badass’s story.
The other piece is that I truly believe I’ve lived a charmed life. I’ve faced very few challenges like the end of 2019 presented. So, it was probably time to see some darkness. And it wasn’t all darkness. When things turn bad, your friends and family can be at their best and I have some of the best friends/family a guy could ask for. People have showed up for me: in person, on the phone, in text, telepathically. Some of them, busier than you could imagine...and they found time for me. They listened, offered wisdom, laughs, music, distraction, support, comfort. Some even came to help in the shop. All the things. My wife Jen was an extraordinary help in all things and probably never wants to sand another coaster, ever.
The other major piece I learned is that it is these very traumas that bring us closer to people. Some acquaintances and colleagues whom I didn’t know well shared their stories of grief with me and the things that brought them comfort and understanding. I’m closer to family members now than I was before. A co-worker reached out and shared his story of dealing with a concussion. Unlike major life accomplishments where people are also compelled to share, these shared challenges never feel like a one-upmanship. It’s just what makes us human...all these effing emotions and our experiences of them, but also the human connections they build.
Two major confrontations with mortality, paired with turning 40, really put into relief just how limited our time here is and made everything feel a bit fragile. I’ve since become much more open with people to the point of potentially sounding downright sappy. On the other hand, my previous disinterest in small talk has since turned into total intolerance (for better or for worse, we can only exchange one sentence regarding the weather...but I’ll talk with you all day about your life goals, mortality, and of course, anything woodworking related). Also, if I see you on a bike without a helmet, you’re going to hear about it.
I used to have this romantic notion that I would be a one man shop...quietly shaving wood and building furniture...I’ve learned, as a friend recently put it, that you need a team, in life and in the shop. I embrace that now...it was a good lesson to learn.
If you’re inclined to offer sympathy after reading this, I have failed to convey the message. Let me make it again: I’m a lucky guy. The universe gave me challenges and the people to support me. I’m much wiser at 40 than I was at 39 and humble enough to know I have more to learn. I wish Chris was here to tease me about being old, bald, and goofy...and that I hadn’t been hit by a bus. But I’ve never been so grateful for the people in my life who generously helped me through this mess of a few months. In 2020, let’s all look out for each other. In the end, being kind and being there for others is really about all that matters. Well, that and crisp non-gappy dovetails.