Upon contemplating the origin of my love for craft, I recently came to some significant realizations: I think it all began before I was even born. My father grew up working hard. There always was work to be done. Whether it was chopping wood, delivering newspapers, or even building onto the house. The diversity of skills that are acquired in such an upbringing is innumerable. Even more, he learned to try: to first learn how to do it and then just plain try.Consequently, my dad is not afraid of anything. I grew up believing no task was out of grasp to the one who makes an earnest attempt. This, I believe, is how the seed of “craft” is sown in the heart of a young one. Whether or not I was actively engaged in each adventure with my father is of lesser import. What stands still tall to this day is a bequeathed boldness to try.
I don’t know if my father even knows I was listening and watching all those years. But I was. And it made me who I am. Thanks, Dad.
I grew up with the sound of my father's encouraging words ringing in my ears. "Every time you walk into a room full of people," he once said, "know in your heart that there is something you do better than anyone there. You might not know what it is, but it is there." Imagine the confidence and joy of accomplishment that instills.
ReplyDeleteDon Williams
Well said, Don. Confidence is king.
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