Sixteen years ago I sat at our crappy kitchen table in Lexington, Ky., and braced myself for a life of mediocrity.
The newspaper I had helped found was foundering. I was working such late hours that it was easier just to sleep under my desk. My wife, Lucy, was pregnant with our first child and was working (more than) full time as a newspaper reporter for the Lexington Herald-Leader.
She was standing by our freezer with a pint of chocolate ice cream. I was wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life.
“The problem,” I recall saying, “is that I’m kinda good at lots of things. But I’m not really good at anything.”
It was true. Lucy and I had both been reporters for newspapers and magazines, and she was the star player. I was the waterboy. She was feted by her bosses. I was plagued by errors and corrections and a judgment misstep that still haunts me. Ask me about that over a beer some day.
By some stroke of luck or divine intervention, I landed a job at Popular Woodworking, and all the pieces fell into place. I got to work with my hands. I was allowed to write, edit, design and take photos – all things I was “kinda” good at. This job salvaged my career. Without it, I have little doubt that I’d be writing obituaries for a shopper with a fifth of Ancient Age in my desk.
So my emotions were mixed as I loaded up my bench, tool chest and shaving horse yesterday and took them to my house. This job was the only job I’ve truly ever loved. I’m paid well (for a writer). I’m treated well and given plenty of freedom.
Why? Well, in journalism school, one of the first things they teach you is that when you write, you should “show – not tell.”
So I guess I’m going to have to show you why.
After my friend Phil and I loaded my stuff into his truck, I got into my car and started the drive home. At the first traffic light I plugged in my iPod. The song waiting for me was from Superchunk, one of my favorite DIY bands.
When I learned to talk, I found words that weren’t worth dirt
Heavy like the rocks we carry, I stopped sinking and learned to surf
I stopped swimming and learned to surf
Stopped swimming, learned to surf
I learned to surf.
— Christopher Schwarz
Chris I can understand the angst during the transition, but you will do well and be rewarded for your brave move.
Its very difficult to leave a place(carrer) you love, its easier to leave a “job” you hate.
Best wishes!
Superchunk FTW!!! Best wishes to you, Chris. You’re going to do great and I am utterly giddy thinking about what you have in store for the future. I, too, feel like a Jack of all trades, master of none at times. But after those moments of angst, I usually find myself thankful for my brain’s attention deficit, as I feel it makes me more malleable. We can speak to any subject at parties, and more than that, we can speak to any situation that might arise, and solve problems in a more efficient manner precisely because of this adaptability of thought. Being a good woodworker makes me a better conceptual artist, teacher, tennis player, grass mower and vise-versa across the board. I find myself simultaneously in awe of and feeling sorry for my colleagues who are of such singular minds as to be “stars” in their particular field…nearly savant like. I sometimes long for that level of pure expertise. But those moments of grass envy soon disappear as I think about all of the possibilities of things that may come my way and suit my fancy. Surfing? I’ve done that!
Thank you so much for putting this kind of thing in your blog. After pouring through “The Anarchist’s Toolchest” I already felt these sentiments between the lines. Now it’s official. Like me and many others who follow this blog, you are admitting that you are not “goal oriented”…but “Process oriented”. We do things because we are curious…not because it will get us to some end. We may find a purpose and an end eventually, but it’s obviously the journey that matters most. Again, thank you for all you do.
Hey Chris…
Thanks for this post.
I’m in the process this instant of moving my hand tools out of drawers and closed cabinets…putting my planes on a shelf under my bench…with those recently acquired rectangular planes made out of wood that are well over 100 years old lined up on a shelf above…and…”Oh my God! I drilled holes in the handles of some of my tools to hang them close by…!”
Thanks for the surfing lesson.
And, have you heard the acoustic version of that SuperChunk song?
Good sawing! (I assume those are saw boxes next to your bench going out the door…)
Hey Chris, about 15 years ago I did pretty much what you’re doing now, walked away from an editor’s desk and struck out on my own. Worked out pretty well for me, I have no doubt it will for you.
Regrets, I’ve had a few… you know how the rest of it goes.
To quote my favorite band with surfer in the name:
Some will die in hot pursuit
And fiery auto crashes
Some will die in hot pursuit
While sifting through my ashes
Some will fall in love with life
And drink it from a fountain
That is pouring like an avalanche
Coming down the mountain
Bahahaha…Butt Hole Surfers. I love those guys I don’t mind the sun sometimes…….
Good luck Chris!
You sound like a cavetto in spirit. Act like an ovolo until your spirit catches up!
(Sorry, couldn’t resist)
🙂
I have always been impressed with your wit, wisdom, and work ethic. You are going to be a very good surfer! Believe…..
Taking a page from the final scene perhaps greatest surfing/bank robbery movie of all-time, ‘Point Break’:
“Via con Dios!”
btw. I see you as more the Johnny Utah type.
Great insight into what you’re thinking and thanks for being an inspiration. As a long time fan myself, it’s a pleasant surprise to find that you’re a Superchunk fan. That’s my favorite song off their latest album.
Superchunk rocks! Merge Records is my favorite business model and helped inspire my efforts to go it alone.
Chris
This goes well with Ms. Hultman’s post. Every surfer I’ve ever seen is pretty buff! -> http://villagecarpenter.blogspot.com/2011/06/chris-schwarz-enegger.html
Hi Chris,
You surfed well (for me that is).
I completed my first new workbench in about 40 years after a study of your first workbench book.
I hope to send some photos soon, it is a highly hybrid Roubo workbench I made.
keep on the good work, and good luck!
Theo from the Netherlands
Chris,
Good luck to you, I will follow along as you make your way. I believe you will do well.
Don
We’re all excited for him (and maybe a little jealous) but it must be said that we’re going to miss Christopher a great deal at the office. The 5-1/2 years I’ve spent working for Chris have been the best 5-1/2 years of my working life.
I’d like to thank you for your work at Popular Woodworking and look forward to your new projects here at Lost Art Press. After reading through The Anarchist’s Toolchest, I decided to also add a new wrinkle and start a blog as you suggest. A woodworking blog, not some random blog involving sea shanties and Mystic seaport. I’m sure some of my entries will be of the upcoming class in Connecticut making Thomas’ schoolbox from “The Joiner and Cabinetmaker”. I look forward to meeting you.
“I’m sipping Flor De Caña* and lime juice, it’s three a.m.
Blow a fruit fly, off the rim of my glass
The radio’s playing Superchunk and the Friends of Dean Martinez”
From “The Last Night of The World.” Seemed fitting, with the Superchunk reference, and this being the Last Night of Phase One of the Hand Tool Revolution.
Viva la Revolución!
So wait… now you’re going to start making surf boards? I guess making long boards it is the next de-evolutionary step from long benches…
Much luck to you in your future challenges, Chris. I think you did pretty good on the last one (“Help turn mediocre woodworking magazine into something amazing!”). I look forward to hearing/seeing/reading about your next project. And hopefully we’ll still see a lot of you in PWM and this blog, right?
As a fan of Chris’ work at PW and a putative recipient of his new focus at LAP, this is truly bittersweet for me.
No one knowledgeable in the recent renaissance in fine craftsmanship can understate the impact of Christopher Schwarz on the hearts, minds, hands, and wallets of a multitude of skilled woodworkers, and the legions who earnestly aspire to becoming skilled woodworkers.
Thank you Chris for leading the transformation, for doing everything you have done.
Thank you for everything you will do.
The opportunity to collaborate with you is one I will not squander.
Chris,
Thank you.
Michael
To quote an older group
Catch a wave and you are sitting on top of the world
The Beach Boys
I know there are alot of woodworkers wanting to ride your wake.
Not sure if you know how many followers of your articles you have across the world, but as one of them, I also would like to wish you a sincere “God Bless” in your latest endeavour! I’m sure everything will work out fine.
Cease to exist, given my goodbyes.
Drive my car into the ocean.
You think I’m dead, but I sail away-a-ay-a-y…..
on a wave of mutilation. Wave of mutilation.
I love me some Pixies!!!
That almost makes up for your heretical misappropriation of Bad Brains in ATC.
naughty post-punk hipster. Go to Muzak. Go directly to Muzak. Do not get Lost in the Supermarket, do not pause to hear Randy Describe Eternity.
(congratulations Chris).
Ha! Pixies rock! what is it with woodworkers and the Pixies? Perhaps Frank Blacks love of a plaid shirt??
The best part of the picture above is the KEEP GATE CLOSED sign on the gate that is open (or opening).
Anarchy Rules!
I thought the exact same thing when I saw the photo!
You have no idea how inspired (and conflicted) I am by your transition. Best of luck.
But the gate is open.
So what happens with this Roubo? Will it move into the home shop or is it destined for a fortunate friend? Perhaps you could fit it into the kitchen and call it a shipping table. Though, I’m guessing it is headed to that special place by the front window in your (near future) downtown shop.
I think I might sell off a kidney before I got rid of this bench. It’s in the sunroom right now with my old tool chest. I am slowly turning the entire house into a woodworking shop.
Right on!
Thanks for all you do – we’ve been waiting for a minstrel like you to capture the tales of past, present and future joints and carcasses.
As long as you daughter does not have to sleep on a workbench you might get by for a while. I think that would cause significant other problems.
Maybe a Roubo inspired shed? Greene and Greene inspired shed? Or just keep washing the dishes and maybe you can turn the whole house into a shop.
“A month of nights, a year of days
Octobers drifting into Mays
I set my sail when the tide comes in
And I just cast my fate to the wind.
I shift my course along the breeze
Won’t sail up wind on memories
The empty sky is my best friend
And I just cast my fate to the wind”
As a Pixie’s fan, an aspiring woodworker, a life long surfer, and an almost-40 year old, I applaud your daring. It’s all about the ride.