The First Time I Stepped into Katz Moses’ Woodworking Shop
So, let me tell you about my first trip to Katz Moses’ woodworking shop. Man, what a whirlwind that day was. With a decent cup of coffee in one hand and my wallet in the other, I walked into the place with a mix of excitement and dread.
Now, if you’ve never plopped down any cash at an actual woodworking shop, let me paint you a picture. The air smells like freshly cut wood, a hint of sawdust lingering, and you can hear the comforting buzz of tools in the distance. I mean, that sound alone makes my heart race a bit. It’s like stepping into a candy store but for grown-ups who appreciate the finer things, like a perfectly jointed corner or a smooth finish.
The Buzz of Inspiration
As I wandered around Katz’s shop, I spotted a few guys huddled around a workbench, discussing some intricate router technique or something. I felt a bit like an outsider, but also like I’d stepped into a wonderland. Katz himself was buzzing around, giving advice like it was second nature to him. He was so approachable that it just felt like chatting with an old friend.
Anyway, after soaking in the atmosphere, I eventually found myself in front of the wood selection. Wow, what a variety! There’s walnut that glistens like a rich chocolate bar, poplar that’s almost a soft green, and then there’s cherry, which smells divine. You can actually smell its sweetness—not like baked pies, but just a soft, warm, woody aroma. I stood there for what felt like ages, trying to figure out what to get. I stress over the littlest things, so you can imagine how this choice was weighing on me.
The Big Idea
So, I had this grand idea to make a simple storage bench for my entryway. Nothing too fancy, but something I could be proud of and maybe even show off to my neighbors. I thought, “Hey, I’m going to use that beautiful walnut!” At that point, my imagination had completely taken the wheel, and common sense packed its bags and left.
Of course, I grabbed a piece home, and you know what? That first cut—a simple crosscut—almost made me cry. I was wielding a new miter saw I had bought without really knowing how to use it properly. I think the blade was dull, or maybe I was just overly ambitious with my feed rate; either way, the wood splintered and chipped like it was made of cheap particle board. I could’ve sworn I heard a tiny laugh echoing from the bench.
Almost gave up right there. I just stared at the wood like it had betrayed me. “Why, walnut? I thought we had a thing!” It took a couple of deep breaths, a strong cup of coffee, and a little pep talk from my wife who has the patience of a saint to get me back on track.
Learning the Hard Way
So, I went back to Katz’s place, this time not just to buy materials but to absorb all the wisdom I could. Katz wasn’t even fazed when I told him about my flubbed cut. He just chuckled and said, “That’s woodworking, my friend. There’s no crying in the shop, only learning.” Somehow, that made me feel a little better—like I wasn’t the only one who had gone through this kind of heartache.
We chatted while I went through my second round of picking wood and ended up grabbing some poplar as well. He taught me about its workability and a touch of charm if you treat it right. Also, he showed me a couple of new tools I’d never even considered—a chisel set that felt like an extension of your own arm and a hand plane that gave off this heavenly sound when it sliced through wood. I practically drooled over that thing.
The Moment of Truth
Fast forward a bit, and I finally had my hands on some decent wood, decent tools, and a fair amount of newfound humility. The project went pretty smooth from there. The poplar was easy to work with, and thankfully, I had learned how to set my miter saw properly, which made a world of difference. There’s something beautiful about hearing a clean cut through wood—like a whisper that feels right.
But let me tell you, when it finally dawned on me that I was actually building something, I was elated. I found myself laughing at the little errors—like when I accidentally glued a panel upside down. It made the design a bit quirkier than I intended, but I rolled with it. Who doesn’t love a little character, right?
The Joy of Success and the Persistence of Failure
When it was all done, and I finally sanded everything down to a silky finish, I couldn’t help but smile. The smell of that freshly finished piece, a mix of wood and oil, had filled my garage like an old friend. Sitting on that storage bench, sipping my coffee, I felt a sense of accomplishment I’d missed for far too long.
If there’s one thing I’d tell someone looking to dive into woodworking—or any craft, really—it would be this: just jump in. Don’t let your fears of failure hold you back. I spent way too much time second-guessing myself. Mistakes will happen, they’re practically written into the contract. But along with them comes the joy, the lessons, and oddly enough, some good laughs.
So yeah, if you’ve been thinking about trying this out, just go for it. Grab that wood, make those cuts, and don’t forget—take a moment to enjoy the process. You’ll find beauty in the imperfections, and I assure you, you’ll come out the other side loving it even more.
