A Small Town Woodworker’s Tale from 2022 Shows
So, there I was, nursing my morning coffee—decent brew, not too strong, just how I like it—when I started thinking about those woodworking shows from last year. Boy, oh boy, were there some memorable moments. I’m telling you, each time I walked into a convention center or local fair, I was just as anxious as a kid at a candy store. You could practically smell the sawdust in the air mixed with the subtle whiff of oil from running machines. It was heaven… and maybe a little hell, too.
The Big Mistake
Now, lemme tell you about one of the bigger mistakes I made that year. First off, I got so excited about all the fancy tools I saw—there were brand new planers that practically did the thinking for you, and some slick routers that looked like they belonged in a spaceship. But here’s the kicker: I decided to try out a fancy mortiser that I had never used before. I thought to myself, “How hard could it be?” Days before the show, I had this idea swirling around in my head—make a beautiful little coffee table for my wife, something to replace the old one that’s seen better days. So, with excitement bubbling up, I signed up for that demo, thinking I’d pick up a few tricks.
The day came, and just as I was getting the hang of it, the mortiser jammed. I mean really jammed. The instructor was trying to help, but I had already created what I can only describe as a weird wood sculpture instead of the perfect mortise. I was sweating bullets, trying to figure out what went wrong. Turns out, the guy running the show had a right laugh watching me struggle and said, “This beast has a mind of its own!” That’s when I almost gave up. You know that feeling when you’re embarrassed and all you wanna do is dig a hole and hide? Yep, that was me.
The Sound of Success (Finally!)
But after that little fiasco, something clicked in my head. I took a step back, smirked a bit, and thought “Why not?” I grabbed a chunk of oak—beautiful wood, let me tell you. The smell was rich and warm, kinda like a cozy log cabin. I steadied myself, adjusted my stance, and went for it again. I mean really went for it! Lo and behold, on the second try, it finally worked like a charm. I felt this wave of relief wash over me. You know that high you sometimes get when something just clicks? Yeah, that was it.
I ended up walking away from that show with a newfound confidence. I snagged a nice set of chisels and even talked myself into getting a bit of cherry wood. I’d never really worked with cherry before. It had this deep reddish hue that I thought might make the coffee table really stand out.
Checking My Ego
And listen, that’s a lesson I wish someone had told me sooner—because I’ll tell ya, I left a lot of pride at the door that day. It’s easy to think you know what you’re doing, especially after watching some slick video tutorial where everything seems to flow effortlessly. But when you’re standing there with a chunk of wood in front of you, your tools clanking, trying not to slice your finger off… well, it’s a whole different ball game.
A buddy of mine, Jake, was there, too. He’s one of those guys that’s been building impressive pieces for years. You know the type—frame houses almost single-handedly and knows more about wood species than a lumberjack. He pulled me aside and said, “It’s woodworking, buddy; it’s about the journey, not just the final piece.” That kinda grounded me, made it all feel real.
The Projects
Then there were those late-night sessions in my garage after the shows, where I would pull out the new toys I bought. One night I got into this groove, and I could just feel the wood under my hands; it was almost meditative. I was using the cherry wood, shaping it into something functional yet beautiful. Somehow, every imperfection became a story—the little dings and scratches seemed to whisper about the effort and time. I was glad I hadn’t given up when things got tricky back at the show.
Of course, not everything went according to plan. I thought I was some kind of genius when I attempted a joinery technique I heard about, and boy did I mess that up! But when I finally got it right, after several tries, I just laughed. You know, it’s those little moments of triumph that make you feel all the hard work was worth it.
Going Forward
So, as I sit here and sip my coffee, I think back on those shows. The laughter, the mistakes, the little victories—they all reminded me of why I love woodworking in the first place. It’s not just about the final outcome; it’s really about the experience itself—the smell of fresh cut wood, the feeling of my tools singing through the grain, and, of course, learning through all of it.
If there’s one thing I could share with anyone thinking about diving into woodworking, it would be this: Just go for it. Don’t let the fear of messing up hold you back. Because, really, those missteps? They end up being the foundation of something great in the long run. And honestly, who knows? You might create something truly beautiful—and if not, at least the stories will be worth it.
