The Journey of JS Benson Woodworking
So, there I was, standing in my garage, staring at a pile of wood that didn’t exactly look like much at the time. I had this grand idea of creating a hand-crafted coffee table for my living room. You know, something that looked straight out of one of those fancy home decor magazines where everything is artfully arranged, and people sip lattes casually while discussing world politics. But in my reality, it was just me, a worn-out circular saw, and a few 2x4s that had been collecting dust for about a year.
The Dream and The Reality
I had read somewhere that using pine was the way to go for beginners, mostly because it’s soft and relatively forgiving. So, I headed to my local hardware store—the small one just down the road, where you can smell fresh-cut wood as soon as you open the door. That smell, man, it’s intoxicating. It gives you that thrill of possibility. I picked up some 1×6 pine boards and a couple of 2x4s, along with some wood glue because, well, why not?
I was pumped. For about 48 hours anyway. I laid everything out on this old workbench my dad had built for me when I was a kid, filled with the smell of sawdust and memories. But reality hit me like a ton of bricks when I started measuring.
One cut here, one cut there—everything seemed fine until I needed to join a couple of pieces together. And that’s when I began to wonder if I had bitten off more than I could chew.
The Mistakes I Made
Here’s the thing: I had this vision in my head of a sleek, polished table. I thought I’d just slap these pieces together and stain it with a rich walnut finish. But, uh, I learned quickly that cutting wood isn’t exactly like slicing butter. I mismeasured. A lot. Like, I could probably take those measurements to a comedy club and make people laugh.
When I first pieced it all together, it looked like a toddler had assembled it. I almost gave up right there. I sat down on my workbench, staring at this lopsided pile of wood that used to be my dream coffee table. I was ready to toss the whole thing in the fire pit out back. I mean, what a disaster! And the sounds of my circular saw, which had once sounded like music, now echoed back at me like some cruel joke.
The Turning Point
But then I remembered something my grandfather used to say: “If it don’t fit, make it fit.” Now, believe me, that wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, but that day, in my frustration, those words started to ring true. So, I picked up my sander—thank God for that tool!—and started to reshape the edges. I thought, "If I can’t make it perfect, I can at least make it unique."
And then, laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep down when I finally sanded down that jagged edge and got the pieces to fit snug. The satisfying sound of the sander buzzing was like a mini celebration. I could feel the wood under my hands transforming, and I was almost proud. I was back in the game.
The Finish Line
Next came the staining, which was another adventure in itself. I chose a Minwax stain, a classic walnut. Folks, if you haven’t experienced staining wood, let me tell you, there’s something magical about watching that first brushstroke glide over the surface. It’s like the wood takes a deep breath and says, “Ah, thank you!” The smell was intoxicating, too—earthy, warm, comforting.
Of course, I had to let it dry overnight. And wouldn’t you know it, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I kept imagining it on my living room floor, the centerpiece of my home. By morning, I couldn’t resist. I rushed back to the garage to check on it, and I swear I had to stop myself from doing a happy dance when I saw how it turned out.
The Lesson Learned
When I finally dragged the completed coffee table into the living room, I smiled at the crooked lines and imperfect joints. It wasn’t just a table; it was a story. It was a piece of me, a testament to my mistakes, my frustrations, and my stubborn will to finish what I started. And, you know, I’ve had friends over, and they’ve complimented it. One even asked if I could make them one, which made me laugh because, who knew?
But more importantly, sitting there with that all-too-imperfect coffee table in my living room, I wished someone had told me this earlier: it’s not about having the perfect project or the best tools. It’s about the journey, the smell of wood, the sound of tools, and yes, even those mistakes. Because every slip-up adds character, not just to the piece but to you as a maker.
So, if you’re out there, sitting on the fence about trying your hand at woodworking—just go for it! Make those mistakes, breathe in the smell of sawdust, and enjoy the ride. You might just end up with a pretty great story, too.
