66 last April. I've been tinkering with wood for most of my life. I still have a small piece of a branch from a tree that fell in a storm when I was 12. I carved my initials in it and painted the carved out initials with nail polish.
My dad was all thumbs. He was also impossible to please. The first time I fixed something he was clueless about, I was in 3rd grade. He raved about it to everyone. Bingo! I figured out how to get praise from him and from there I tried to fix everything. I got pretty good and by the time I reached my early 20s I got into the electrician's union.
After I was married, I made a bow sprit for my dad's boat, still looking for his praise. But it wasn't until the mid 90s that I started getting serious about woodworking and that took another jump after I retired. My dad has been gone 20 years but I think he'd be impressed with some of the things I've made.
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness..." - Mark Twain