My fascination with wood started when I was just a tad bit older than an ankle biter. We grew up in one of the older neighborhoods of Detroit near the corner of Gunston and Gratiot Avenue, close to Detroit City Airport. Simple wood frame houses were aligned pretty tightly together leaving only small back yards, but behind our back fence awaited a glorious and mysterious track of land known as an alley. The alleys ran parallel to city streets but they were situated behind everyone’s house to hide trash cans and other mysterious things people had decided to throw away. If you were industrious and found the time to roam the alleys before the garbage trucks made their rounds, there were always bits of metal tubing, almost empty paint cans and best of all, broken furniture and other bits of scrap wood to be had.

Fathers can react to this boyhood fascination in a couple different ways, and my father chose both paths at different moments in time. If I had scrounged up just a couple small pieces of wood and wanted to nail them together, he supported that. He even showed me how to safely use a hammer. If I came home with arm loads of what he referred to mistakenly as “junk” and had taken over his small workbench in his one-car garage, well, let’s just say that my treasure found its way back to the alley.

In those days and in that neighborhood, wooden furniture, clocks and other hand crafted wood pieces were often the most valuable items in the home. Good furniture was handed down from the previous generation and in some cases made the trip from that family’s country of origin. Most in the neighborhood were auto-workers and second generation Americans who treated the neighborhood kids like we were all part of their own family. Since I was always a skinny kid (well fed but skinny), motherly types in the neighborhood would invite me in for a cookie, or a sandwich, or a Golabki. But, this was my introduction into different cultural worlds of wood and furniture design. You could tell that people valued these wooden heirlooms because they were all covered in plastic, or cloth and tables especially were covered by some other protective top. Wood I learned, was as precious as money. Given the price of fine hardwoods today, my old neighbors back in the “D” were right.

So continued my fascination with wood, even if it was a leftover cut-off from a 2 X 4 riddled with rusty nails, found in a trash can. I collected these scraps and even got lucky once in a while finding a piece of hardwood flooring, or a broken cigar box. As I got older, my father taught me the basics of using power tools safely. My grandfather and uncle in Northern Michigan taught me about differences in various hardwoods and conifers, how to tell the tree variety by the shape of the leaf and bark or the characteristics of needles on branches.

As I started my own family, I applied what I knew about construction woods and power tools and got pretty good at remodeling our first house… and finishing the basement of our second house… and remodeling pretty much every other place we moved to.

Ah yes, the smell of fresh cut pine. Over and over again. Pine, always Pine. Only Pine. Did other actors named “Chris” scream that name in agony when they lost out on the Kirk role in the Star Trek redux? “P I N E !!!”

A young man begins to wonder if there’s more to life than just Pine. “What does Oak smell like when you cut it?” I wondered. Does Maple actually stay flat after you leave the lumber yard? What the hell is Cocobolo and is it better with marshmallows?

This is how my brain works from time to time. A well though out story line followed by a series of non sequiturs. And now with my wits about me again, I type on.

Design of quality furniture was never the next goal, but I began to experiment with designing basic utilitarian tables and boxes for the basement and garage. Eventually, the materials used in each new project began to improve in quality and price as Poplar replaced Pine, and Red Oak replaced poplar. Though tools much like golf clubs or baseball bats should never be the excuse for your crappy game, they do need to perform the job in order for you to complete the job. In my case, a cheap circular saw didn’t make a very good rip cut on a narrow piece of Oak especially if you needed to edge glue a few boards together.

Over time, I inherited my father in law’s old Craftsman table saw and I started to add other tools to my collection. Birthdays and Christmas were glorious days for unwrapping boxes containing heavy things with power cords. I also began to get family owned antiques of hand tools like chisels and block planes that needed some love. Garage sales and flea markets would be a frequent destination for me and I’d occasionally find something worthwhile.

Over time, my skills got better. My corners fit more tightly. Edge matched glue ups were more precise and required less plane work and sanding. Designs were improved and incorporated techniques that were just a little bit more difficult than the “easier way” I had used before. Hand tools were no longer viewed as dinosaurs, as the beauty of a clean hand saw cut or the hand plane trimming of a sticky door became the preferred way of woodworking. I felt a bit like the Mandalorian. “It is the way”. (I’m doing it again).

Over time, my tools got better. With age and reduced expenses came an improved flexibility to buy better quality tools and improved capabilities in my growing woodshop. It happened slowly with maybe a bigger purchase once every one or two years, but it did happen. Better tool capabilities allowed for more complex projects like Adirondack chairs and maple side tables with drawers and even a Frank Lloyd Wright replica fireside chair in Oak Plywood. Frank loved plywood.

My projects from the last few years continue to drive me forward to try new things beyond basic joinery and squared corners. For some reason I branched out into kinetic sculptures made from wood and I love those projects. My daughters are all planning new orders for their next furniture piece (though they already have quite a few pieces already), and we still need a couple pieces of furniture in our new (used) home. The drive is still there to design and create and I hope it never fades. If current behavior is any indicator of the future me, I still find myself slowing down my car on trash day if I see some wood sticking out of somebody’s trash bin or a broken piece of furniture sitting by the side of the road. I can’t help myself. I’m 6 again.

Well, I’m off to publish my most recent video for a men’s valet box with a secret storage tray. The design can just as easily be used for a women’s jewelry box too. I hope you check it out! Until next time, thanks very much for watching (and reading) and please reach out if you have any questions or even ideas for a new project!

Why wood? Why not? Wood is good!

Best

-Mark