I’ve read Joshua Klein’s new book “Hands Employed Aright” at least five times to complete the index and also for pleasure. It is one of my favorite books I’ve read so far this year.
To say that Jonathan Fisher, the subject of the book, was an industrious man is an understatement. He was at various and overlapping times: artist, author, builder (of house, barn, workshop), clockmaker, cooper, furniture maker, hat maker, linguist, lock maker, pipe (of the drainage type) maker, surveyor, toolmaker and turner. Oh, I know there are several more I left out. He did all this as the husband of Dolly, the father of nine children and the Congregationalist minister for his frontier community of Blue Hill, Maine. Fisher was also, as were many men of his time, a prolific diarist.
The primary materials available to Joshua included a huge volume of diary entries, Fisher’s house, letters, publications, artwork, furniture and tools held in several collections in Maine. Such an abundance of primary materials, although welcome, can be daunting for a researcher. What to cull and what to keep? What patterns emerge? Details that might be fascinating or endearing to the researcher may not advance the themes intended for the final manuscript.
For five years Joshua Klein dove in and swam with Fisher. He read the letters and the diaries, studied the furniture, tools and other items (some of which remain to be identified). He consulted with Don Williams and other experts. He tried to absorb how Fisher combined the strength of his mind and faith with his oftentimes weak body, yet skillful hands, to produce such a prodigious output.
Along the way Joshua was able to solve a few puzzles. Using old photographs taken prior to the destruction of the Fisher barn he figured out that some of the bits and pieces were one of Fisher’s lathes. And in his shop-based research – a chapter worth the price of admission – Joshua demystifies the odd mouse-shaped totes on many of Fisher’s planes. He explores working on a low workbench and learned several new approaches to his own woodworking.
You do not have to be a woodworker to enjoy this book. It is also a social and economic history of life on the American frontier. It is a continuation of the story that began with James Rosier’s account of the European discovery of Maine in 1605 (when Maine was part of the then vast colony of Virginia). The illustrations of Fisher’s artwork and designs and photographers of his home and furniture are plentiful and stellar.
Joshua Klein’s abilities as a researcher shine in this book. He has distilled a tremendous amount of information and observation into a cogent history of the life and talents of the fascinating Jonathan Fisher. Joshua also acknowledges the research is not over and very generously ends his book with a detailed catalog of all of Fisher’s furniture (including pieces attributed to him) and tools for potential use by others.
Joshua used a quote by Jonathan Fisher as the title for his book. I think “Hands Employed Aright” is an apt description of Joshua’s work, too.
— Suzanne Ellison
The images used in the collage: top row is a portion of ‘A morning view of Blue Hill’ by Fisher, Farnsworth Art Museum. 2nd row (left & middle) coopering plans, Fisher’s diary, both from the Jonathan Fisher Memorial; clock face, Farnsworth Art Museum. 3rd row (middle) detail from Fisher’s 1825 self portrait, Blue Hill Congregational Church; back saw, desk and bookcase, slat-back chair and fore plane are from the Farnsworth Art Museum. 4th row (middle) chest for tool storage and wooden screw, Farnsworth Art Museum; painting of the barn and workshop (top left), woodblock print and shaving horse (right) all by Fisher in the collection of the Jonathan Fisher Memorial; the yellow house (bottom left) is the Fisher home. Bottom row is the top of Fisher’s low workbench, Jonathan Fisher Memorial.
Perhaps the best way to describe Mary May, author of “Carving the Acanthus Leaf,” is to describe another woman – Grace. Grace began as an 8” x 10” x 21” block of mahogany, and emerged not with plan or intent, but with patience, skill and curiosity.
On her blog, Mary wrote about the process of carving Grace without referring to a model – a process called “direct” carving. “A woman was in there somewhere,” Mary wrote. “I just needed to begin chipping the wood away and find out where and who she was.”
“Grace”
And so it is with Mary herself. A carver was inside her, always – that’s evident in her childhood stories of three-dimensional play and carved zucchini dolls. But just as Mary handled Grace, she has worked her way through life not with a grinder, but rather slowly, with a mallet and chisel. “Without having a specific design, how do you know what is ‘waste’ wood, anyway?” she writes when talking about carving Grace. “This process of slowly chipping away helped me to discover the design as I carved.”
And so it is with Mary’s life. Her life experiences have allowed herself to live three-dimensionally. In fact, her work these days is split in thirds – carving, teaching and creating online videos. And what has emerged is a well-respected career that has allowed her to fill her days doing exactly what she loves.
A Childhood of Fulfilled Dreams & Eccentricity Mary was born in the Chicago area and grew up in the city’s suburbs until she was 11. Her dad was working as a systems analyst at a time when computer programming was still young. His commute into the city took two hours – each way. “He got really burnt out on that,” Mary says. Wanting to simplify, Mary’s dad quit his job and became an auto mechanic, a job he held for many years.
“What’s interesting is that my dad actually went to college for philosophy and theology,” Mary says. And her dad would argue that having studied both subjects made for a perfect combination for his newfound profession. “In his very unique mind it was the right combination of someone who could figure things out and solve problems,” Mary says.
Mary’s mom collected junk and sold it. “Our entire house was just filled with all sorts of collected things,” Mary says. “I had an interesting childhood. I thought it was a normal childhood, but now that I look back on it, it probably wasn’t.”
Mary’s family, sitting on her dad’s 50′ trimaran, which he was in the process of building. Mary is sitting on her dad’s lap.
Mary grew up with three brothers and one sister, and their childhood was spent following the whimsy of their parents. Their father’s boatbuilding hobby is a good example.
“He built two different boats, one when I was 4 and the other when I was 11,” Mary says. Once the boats were built, the entire family lived on them. “The second time we were all teenagers – well, I was almost a teenager,” Mary says. “I can’t even imagine what my parents were thinking.”
Mary says her dad, who died in 2003, served in the Navy and she has often wondered if that played a part. He sought out adventure and regularly eschewed the traditional road.
“He was a quiet, normal-acting and -looking person,” Mary says. “But he just had this dream and he wanted to live it and nothing was going to stop him. It was quite an adventure. As a child, I probably didn’t appreciate it much. It definitely was something that was very valuable as to how we developed our way of thinking and of dreaming.”
Mary (right) with her sister Ilene (left), spent part of their childhoods living on their father’s boats.
While on the first boat trip (they traveled the length of the Mississippi River and then sailed to the Bahamas) Mary says she and her siblings continued their education by taking correspondence courses through the mail. During the second boat trip they stayed in the Florida Keys for six months so the children could attend school.
“We were staying at a marina, anchored, and we were on a serious budget,” Mary says. The marina charged docking fees and utilities, but if your boat was simply anchored, there was no charge. So Mary and her siblings would pile into a rowboat and row themselves to shore every day to catch the school bus.
“My dad’s quiet way of living his dream had a real significance on my decision-making,” Mary says. “I think the main thing that I gained from it is other people may think your dream is odd and obscure, but if it’s your dream then go ahead and dream it and do what you can to achieve it.”
Mary’s family moved from the suburbs of Chicago to rural Wisconsin when she was 12. “It was a pretty drastic lifestyle change, living out in the country,” she says. When they first moved to Wisconsin they lived in a trailer they had previously used as a summer vacation home. For six months – including a Wisconsin winter – it was as if they were back on the boat, living in a trailer that had no running water. Mary says she remembers going to the neighbor’s house to fill up five-gallon buckets of water and carrying them home. “It was rough,” she says. After six months, they found a new place to live. “It had running water and was a little more civilized,” she says.
Mary lived in rural Wisconsin until she graduated from Sparta High School in 1985. “I really enjoyed the country,” she says. “I enjoyed the quietness of it. My parents were concerned with the influence that the city and the suburbs would have on us so they just wanted us to get out and experience the rural life.”
Learning to See in Three Dimensions From a young age, Mary loved shaping three-dimensional things. And her mother’s collected junk gave her much to play with. She remembers shadow boxes that intrigued her, and Strawberry Shortcake wrapping paper, in particular. At 7 or 8 years old Mary remembers cutting out the little images of Strawberry Shortcake, making arms and sticking them on, adding dimension to what was previously flat. She became acutely aware of the closeness of things, the thickness of things, how objects could look farther apart and then appear closer to the background.
“I was interested,” she says. “It was a training ground. I started to view and visualize things, and I think that was a real plus. I don’t think my parents had a clue where that would lead me but it was interesting.”
She calls herself an obsessive child who had a tendency to latch onto projects. Once, while living on the boat, she asked her dad for all of the boat’s dimensions. She wanted to draw an exact replica of the boat, scaled down on paper. Her dad taught her how to use the scale ruler and she spent hours replicating the boat, every tiny detail – she was 11.
While Mary was surrounded by a lot of creativity growing up, compliments and encouragement were rare. “My dad, especially I think, was not a man of very many words and it was very hard to get any kind of response at all,” she says. “When he did encourage you, you thought, Wow. I’m going to grab and hold onto that one. They just expected us to succeed in whatever it was we were doing. They expected us to be good at whatever we did.”
Mary loved hanging out with her dad who was a hobby carpenter. One time, at the age of 12, she was out in the garage with her dad and told him she wanted to make a dollhouse. “My dad helped me get plywood and taught me how to use the scroll saw to cut out the windows and how to use the hand drill,” she says. “I made my first dollhouse and it was pretty rustic but it was mine. I think that was probably the first time I built something in wood. I sold it at a garage sale for $8.” She wishes she had kept it.
Mary began carving at a young age, although not in wood. In her book she tells a story about carving a pumpkin in Wisconsin (and also a delightful story about carving her name in her dresser). “I kind of always did that kind of thing,” she says. “We had huge zucchinis that would grow in the garden, beyond the point of being edible. I’d carve faces into the ends of them.” The necks of these dolls would weaken, turning the zucchinis into bobble heads. “I’d walk around with the bobble head and eventually it got so weak that the head would fall off and that was pretty traumatic.”
The Art of Making the Complex, Simple Mary attended college for two years, but was undecided about her future. She took a class in ceramics that she loved – because it was three-dimensional. She knew she wanted a career in art, but she hadn’t yet discovered carving wood, specifically. And the idea of living her life as a starving artist offered little appeal.
During her second year of college Mary studied abroad in London. “That’s when I ended up absolutely falling in love with stone and wood carvings,” she said. Now, when she looks back at the photographs during her time abroad, she sees a theme – photo after photo of carvings and architectural details from the insides of churches and cathedrals. “It’s interesting to look back to see what you gravitated toward and what you didn’t,” she says. “You can look back and kind of locate those things.”
Mary wasn’t a good student. “I didn’t take notes very well,” she says. “I would take an entire page of notes where I would make everything three dimensional with the letters coming off the page. I never paid any attention to what the teacher was saying, but I would have pages of these very bizarre, three-dimensional notes.
Feeling like she wasn’t heading in any specific direction and not wanting to spend more money, Mary dropped out of college and enrolled at a technical college. For two years she studied desktop publishing – what is now called graphic design. “I ended up working at the school that I studied at as a desktop publisher,” she says. Her job was to assist tutors and redesign old, worn-out, hand-drawn and handwritten instructional packets. Think: a manual teaching someone how to change a tire.
“I think that really, really helped writing my book,” she says. Mary wrote “Carving the Acanthus Leaf” with a layout in mind. And although she’s never studied teaching, designing instructional packets at the technical college required her to think as a teacher would. “What I try to do is remember back to when you first start doing something,” she says. “I really try to get into their heads and into their position of being a beginner.”
There’s an art to making the complex seem simple, and it’s an art Mary excels at, as is evident not only in her book, but also in her classes (ask any of her former students) as well as her instructional videos. Her goal, when teaching in person, on video or on paper, is to take out any possibility of misunderstanding while also creating an increased interest in the work, all the while crafting a simple explanation of what actually is a complex idea and design.
Creating a Career Out of Carving Mary began carving while working at the technical college. She bought a beginning woodcarving book at a garage sale, a large curved gouge and a rubber mallet. Her workshop was in her bedroom. It was during this time that she started taking classes two nights a week with a Greek master carver named Konstantinos Papadakis.
“The more I started to carve, the more I was attached to it,” she says. “I couldn’t get away from it. Even when I was at my job and trying to do these learning packets, I was constantly thinking what I wanted to carve. I think it just became an obsession.”
And this is why Mary was so happy to be laid off from her job with severance pay. “I was really trying to figure out how to do the carving full time and I couldn’t come up with a way to do that and be a responsible citizen,” she says.
Mary carving a leaf detail inside of a limestone bracket in Malaysia.
She traveled to Athens, Greece, this time to Theofanis Andravidiotis’s studio, where she worked alongside master Greek carvers and their apprentices. From there she traveled once again to London, where she attended City & Guilds of London Art College, studying traditional carving designs and techniques. She also did a stint working as a stone carver in Malaysia. (You can read much more about all of this in her book.)
While Mary loved the training, she said she did have to go through a bit of a punishing period where you had to prove yourself. And then she fast-forwards for a moment, mentioning how often people want to become a master carver after taking one week-long class. “It’s difficult to convince people you’ll need a little bit more time,” she says. “You have to put in the time.”
Mary’s Byzantine-style icon stand.
When living in the states, work, at times, was sparse. Mary would do occasional sign carvings as well as spec pieces, including the Byzantine-style icon stand featured in her book. Mary found it difficult to get her name out, and difficult to prove to people what she could do. So she simply continued working on her skills and techniques until a man she was dating convinced her to move down to South Carolina. “That’s when the work really started to open up because of the area and the historical significance in Charleston,” she says.
In South Carolina, after some time, Mary found lots of work repairing and restoring furniture, as well as working on new homes along the coast. But the work wasn’t immediate. The key was convincing people of what she could do. Many builders and homeowners didn’t realize, for example, that a hand-carved fireplace mantel was a possibility. So Mary had to put herself out there, presenting herself in a way that was starkly different from the person she used to be.
“I was actually a very shy person,” Mary says of her childhood self. “I think there was a big part of me that needed to get over my shyness to function in the world. I had to force myself to get out there and go traveling. And I did a lot of traveling on my own and forced myself to get out and interact with people. It helped me through that – when you realize if you want the chance to live a successful life, you kind of have to get past that.”
Mary’s also tough. She circles back to her childhood, to the six months she lived in a trailer with no water. “I knew I could survive in pretty sparse living conditions,” she says. “I was willing to do that [again], to put up with whatever came my way, to live as frugally as possible, to take on a second job, to take on another real job – fortunately I never had to do that then.”
Mary’s first commissioned piece, a butternut umbrella stand.
After finally landing in a comfortable place of steady work doing what she loved, Mary did have a concern. If this was something she was passionate about and loved to do, what would happen when it became her career? Would she lose the passion once her hobby became her business? Her concern, it turns out, appears to be unfounded. “Twenty-seven years later I still absolutely love it,” she says.
“An Enjoyable Adventure” Flexibility and creativity have been important to Mary’s success. “There are times when I don’t have a lot of commissions, when I don’t have a lot of work, and I have a lot of time to think and get creative,” she says. “[I think:] I want to continue to do this as my job. How else can I look at this? Maybe I can go this direction, maybe I can do teaching, start an online video school. And that’s how I started the online school. I didn’t have a lot of work six years back and I wanted to keep doing this. But how?”
The key, Mary says, is to not get burned by doing one thing and one thing only way too long. “It becomes repetitive,” she says. “You get burned out. With the variety that comes with my work there are very few times when that happens.”
Mary still lives in South Carolina, but not with the man who initially convinced her to move down south. (There is a lovely story about how she met her now-husband, Stephen, in her book.) For the last 16 years she and Stephen have lived on a couple acres in the country on St. John’s Island.
When they bought their home, it was falling apart. “The person who built it was about 4’11”, and all the ceilings were short,” she says. “He basically built it to fit his height.” So Mary and Stephen, who works as a private contractor, completely redid the house. “It was a fun process,” Mary says. “My husband did a lot of the restoration and renovation. We only have a few items in the house that I actually carved. It’s really like the cobbler’s house.”
And whenever Stephens’s work was slow, he would work on Mary’s workshop, every couple of years adding another extension. “It’s a beautiful little workshop,” she says.
These days, Mary’s work consists of teaching, at different locations and occasionally in her workshop, working on her online videos and working on commissions. Last year, finishing up her book added another layer of work on top of her busy schedule – she found herself up until midnight, 1 a.m., 2 a.m., sometimes 3 a.m., every night plus weekends. “I’m still recovering from that,” she says. The work did, however, prompt her to take a one-week-long cruise with her sister. “Then my sister convinced me to do a back-to-back cruise, so we did another week and it was very irresponsible. It was one of those things I used to do before I was married.”
Her days are often similar. The mornings are reserved for computer work. She helps Stephen with his bookwork, does his invoices and catches up on email. Then she heads out to her shop to work on her commissions. “Sometimes I can spend 5 hours or 10 hours a day, depending on how critical the deadline is,” she says. “Occasionally, if I’m working on a commission, I like to video it so I can include that as a project and a lesson on my online school.”
She’s not good at taking breaks. “I sort of forget and five or six hours later I realize that I haven’t stopped,” Mary says. “But it’s funny because I had some students here taking classes and at 10 a.m. in the morning they wanted to take a break and I was like, ‘What do you mean?’ And they asked, ‘Where are some chairs to sit in?’ And I said, ‘Chairs? What do you mean? We don’t have any chairs around here.’ And I realized, oh my goodness, I don’t stop. So I went to the Dollar Store to buy some chairs so they could sit and take a break.” She laughs.
Filming her work requires three cameras, all of which are set up in her workshop. “They’re just on tripods,” she says. “I’m pretty much here by myself.” She likes it that way. She has a computer in her shop and because she’s by herself, she says she can take as many takes as she wants. “When I mess up I don’t have to waste anybody else’s time,” she says.
Mary’s oldest stepson, Caleb, is her video editor. “He’s the one that makes me look good,” she says. “He did say he’s saving all the bloopers. I’m not sure what I’m going to get, a blooper reel? He takes all of them and he does a great job of making sure whatever camera angle is correct and zooms in and it’s all pretty much real time. It’s in-house. I do the videos and Caleb does the editing. We keep very busy with that. We do a video every week. It’s going really well. There’s a lot of interest and I’m excited to see a lot of beginners get into that.”
When asked about her hobbies, Mary says she enjoys gardening but she’s not very good at it. “I’ve been asked, ‘What do you do for fun?’ And I’m like, I have to think of something clever. The first thing I thought of was carving. ‘What do you do for fun?’ My career. I thought it was sort of the best answer I could give. I really couldn’t think of anything else.”
She still loves to travel. “We’re kind of homebodies here,” she says. “But I like to travel and I hope to travel a lot more. My husband likes to come with me occasionally when I teach in different locations.”
And thinking both in terms of flexibility and creativity, Mary has been considering a new idea – a mobile workshop, that would allow for travel, videos on the road, interviews and workshops in different parts of the country. “If I have too much time on my hands, I can see different ways to steer it,” she says.
Mary finds satisfaction in all her work’s dimensions. “Carving itself is very enjoyable and I get to lose myself for hours,” she says. “There’s a different type of satisfaction when you’re teaching. And there’s still something different of just being able to share – other people get just as excited. I get the occasional email from students and I’m thrilled with what they’ve done. I love that part of it.”
When looking back on her life thus far, Mary gives God a lot of credit. “I acknowledge that God gives us gifts and I think you need to realize where the gifts come from and my gifts do come from God,” she says. “I think ultimately life is a challenge but you can take those challenges on and actually turn them around as an enjoyable adventure. I think that’s probably how I have survived as many years as I have doing what I really love to do.”
The first chair Fisher recorded making was in December 1802. This “small chair,” probably for children, seems to have been a trial run for him because a couple weeks after its completion, he began to equip his work shop for a more efficient workflow. He “made a rack (a bending form) for chair backs.” And “made a shaving [?] jack” (probably his shaving horse). With these two appliances, Fisher could refine his chairmaking process by “[making] several chair frames” before undertaking the production of a set of “kitchen” chairs in 1805.
Nancy Goyne Evans’s research into the New England usage of the term “kitchen chair” has shown that it refers to a slat-back side chair. Fisher’s documentation of the construction of these chairs concurs with that assessment.
The flats on the sides of the tenons ensured that when the legs shrunk, they would not split.
February 1805 he made four “little” chairs probably for his four children who would need them: Jonathan, Sally, Betsey and Josiah. Having his children’s sitting needs taken care of, he set out to build the full-size versions. The first one he made that March did not work out well. “Worked upon a chair; broke it putting it together. Began another.” This comment is interesting because it suggests that the method of assembly Fisher used to make his chair required significant force such that there was risk of completely ruining it. When driving the tenons of the rails and stretchers in the “green” legs, it was common practice to make the fit incredibly tight. This way, when the leg dried out, it would pinch the tenon from coming out. Having not yet developed the feel for “how far was too far,” Fisher perhaps fractured one or more members.
The slat-back chair (Cat#16, p 161) in the Fisher collection shows evidence of this kind of assembly. The tenons all have small flats carved on their sides. Thistechnique was a way to remove material on the legs’ cross-grain direction while allowing the top and bottom of the tenon to be oversized when driven in.If the orientation of the flats were reversed (meaning on top and bottom), the driving would split the leg due to the extra thickness of the oversized tenon running cross-grain. This is perhaps where Fisher made his early mistake. The method appears to work incredibly well because although the only pins in the entire chair are in the top slat, it has no wiggle whatsoever – pretty amazing for a 200-year-old chair.
This stout rocking chair was once painted red and had a woven seat. The tablet crest, although unusual for this form, appears to be original to the chair.
Fisher’s shop work during this time on chairs seems a little more focused than usual. Although he made a few visits and “wrote upon sermons” like always, he set aside a surprising amount of time to this batch of chairs.
Tuesday, April 2, Fisher recorded many of the steps of the chairmaking operation: “Primed some chairs. Went into the woods and cut a little chair stuff. Turnedposts and put together a kitchen chair.” During the ensuing weeks of construction, we learn that he “hewedout [his] posts” before turning them. He may have also used his “shaving jack” for further shaping but onlyever recorded using it to “shave … chair backs.” Interestingly, there is a comment on April 19 about “sawing out a few chair backs.” Typically “sawing out” refers to resawing rough material. So it appears that rather than rive backs from the log, he preferred to saw them.
The red paint is clearly visible on the seat rails.
After they were assembled, he painted the chairs, probably with the “1-1/2 gal. oil, 5 lbs. yellow ochre, 5 lbs. red ochre, 1 lb. patent yellow” he purchased from Mr. Witham’s store at the head of the bay during the construction process.
The “bottoming” (seat weaving) of Fisher’s chairs always appears to be connected to the pounding of “basket stuff.” The fact that he didn’t mention weaving baskets after the prep work but instead immediatelybegan weaving the seats seems to imply that they were woven of wood strips rather than the twisted rushes one would expect in northern New England.
Asher McDaniel, age 12. Let’s quit generalizing about young people being incapable of focus and work.On Wednesday Freddy Roman wrote an Instagram post that was part-tribute to his mentor, Phil Lowe, and part-lament.
“Master Lowe’s picture sits above my desk. A daily reminder from circa 2000 when I was punk, lost, and running. I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for him. Each day I try to carry his knowledge and pass on the torch to the next generation. Sadly there isn’t many to pass the torch to. But I do bust my rump to make him proud.”
The post struck a chord with many. Some shared their own appreciation of Phil, and also of Freddy, not least for being the kind of guy who takes the time to honor his mentor in public. As the comments went on, it became clear that many were responding more to the lament than the appreciation – some focusing on what they see as a lack of the requisite work ethic on the part of younger people, others on Freddy’s frustration with not having a worthy mentee, and a few on the dwindling number of mentors with the patience and generosity of spirit it takes to teach less experienced people on the job.
I added an observation based on my own experience: “I have to disagree. There are people aplenty waiting to take hold of that torch. The bigger question concerns the market, i.e. the ‘demand’ for the obviously super-abundant supply of skill and willing work.” Along with some other commenters, I was referring to the torch of doing the work, not teaching others how to do it; in other words, what I understood by the “bust[ing] my rump to make him proud” part of Freddy’s post.
I kept up with the comments all evening because this is a subject that interests me and I admire Freddy’s character, in addition to his work. Then I came across this one, copied and pasted here in its entirety:
“@nrhiller you’re crazy. It is common knowledge that less and less youthful people are willing to go into trades, put in the hard work, and stay off of their phone apps for more than 45mins at a time. Maybe geographically you have some different characters however this topic is discussed often in trade mags and even dudes like Mike Rowe.”
This one got to me. Not because the writer called me crazy — nothing new there. Nor was it the comment’s apparently unintended self-contradiction — “less and less youthful people” strictly means people who are growing older* (i.e., all of us). What bugged me was the generalization about “youthful people,” because I know a number of youthful people who possess an admirable work ethic and understand that nothing worth doing can be mastered without serious effort.
*I think what the writer meant was “fewer and fewer.”
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In any discussion that even implicitly invokes some supposedly better time, as many of the comments on Freddy’s post did, it’s important to distinguish between history and fantasy. I doubt that there has ever been a Golden Age when youthful people universally grasped the importance of what we geezers call paying our dues. “The younger generation” has a long history of taking knocks from elders.
What IS different today is how our culture legally and institutionally conceives of childhood and child-rearing, not to mention risk and investment, authority and discipline, work and leisure. Ours is a culture with exceedingly low expectations – a culture that heaps praise on those who do little more than show up. It’s one that rewards us for fulfilling the most basic responsibilities of citizenship with flag-draped stickers announcing “I voted” and tells university alumni they are “awesome” for taking the time to weigh in on their alma mater’s trustees. One that increasingly molds education on an entertainment model, treating students as customers in an economic transaction instead of encouraging them to embrace the existential challenges that are integral to anything worth calling education. Ours is a culture that
glamorizes consumption and goofing off and creates special incentives to attract “clean” tech jobs to century-old factories, then brands those sites a “Trades District” – because we all know the trades are cool, even if the actual work they involve is not-clean, not to mention no longer economically viable.
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As the comment about my insanity marinated, it occurred to me that I happened to have a youthful person right outside of my shop. He was working with gusto in the heat of a south-central Indiana June afternoon. Asher McDaniel is 12 and has been actively working since the age of 7. His jobs at home include feeding the dog, sweeping the barn, and tilling the garden – it’s 5/8 of an acre, on which the family grows the majority of its vegetables each year. This level of responsibility is not inconsequential.
Aaron (left) and Asher McDaniel. Lest anyone be concerned by Asher’s dour expression, I will reassure you that it was due to his discomfort at being the subject of my attention (though he did give his express consent to the interview and the pictures), not due to his work.“He’s also our mechanic,” adds his father, Aaron, who was sweating alongside him. “We were going to scrap two riding mowers, and I told him to get them out of the lean-to to load into the trailer. They hadn’t run in years. One was a gift from a client, one from a grandpa. Before I got home from work that night he got both of them running.” Bear in mind that Aaron can figure out how to make almost anything run long after others have written it off… and even he had written these mowers off.
Asher continues to maintain those mowers, in addition to the one owned by his older brother, who operates a mowing business.
Asher’s thoughts on work?
“I like it,” he says. “It pays pretty good.” How much does it pay? “Eight dollars an hour. That’s 75 cents more than what I could make flipping burgers.” (Not that he would be flipping burgers at his age. There’s a legal difference between minors working with their parents and those who are employed by others.) But the pay is far from the only motivation. He’s homeschooled. This work is no less integral to his education than his state-mandated academic studies and lessons in guitar.
Asher has been going to work, on and off, with his father for five years. This is in addition to what he does around the family farm. “I like going to work with him,” he says. “And I like the kind of work it is.” Liberate yourself from prevailing norms and you may glean just how rewarding vigorous physical work and the kind of constant problem-solving Matthew Crawford wrote about in “Shop Class as Soulcraft” can be. You may appreciate the sense of competence that comes from making an undeniable difference in the world around you.
“I didn’t have a lot of the same opportunities at his age,” says Aaron, in a statement some may imagine was intended to be ironic. (It was not.) When Aaron was 14, Aaron’s father left his job in research and development for a corporation to start a family farm. “I saw (my father’s) work ethic and admired it,” Aaron says.
As a result, Aaron and his wife, MeChelle, who shares his perspective on the value of labor and family, decided to include their children in their own work from a much younger age – not because doing so was convenient, but, as Aaron puts it, “because I wanted to share my joy and satisfaction with them.”
If your reaction to this statement is one of cynical disbelief – because how many of us today see hand-digging a trench through gravel on a humid summer’s day as a source of joy and satisfaction? – you may be contributing to Freddy’s problem. This is not just about young people.
“One of the measures of success is how far we can distance ourselves from physical and mental strain,” Aaron adds. “If we value work – if our attitude to work is that it’s profitable and good and healthy – we’ll want our children to participate with us.”
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Finally, back to that comment. I asked myself, “Who the *&^ is Mike Rowe and why should I care about what he has to say on this matter?” (We don’t have cable TV.) Before writing this post I looked him up online and found this presentation, which speaks volumes more about this subject than I can convey.
So, thanks, commenter, for turning me on to a onetime scholar of Classical Greek who is getting people to question attitudes about work. If more of us consider the bigger picture and our own part in it instead of just complaining that young people are lazy or “entitled,” we may have a shot at making things better.
“Great post!” he wrote. “Love your work on this topic…have you ever thought of doing an in-person class on this topic? I would love the opportunity to go in depth on this stuff, imagine others would too…”
Undeterred by my reluctant reply, he contacted me a few days later. I’m sharing most of his note here, with his permission, because it’s the best way I can convey what this event will be about.
There is a charge to attend; part goes to the owner of the venue, and part will go toward the cost of the extra day away from my shop required for me to put this on.
Ms. Hiller,
I am following up on our brief correspondence on the LAP blog regarding my recommendation for a class on the business of woodworking. I did not respond sooner because I wanted to go back and look at the blogs and your book and make sure I wasn’t just being lazy and missing things.
While I can always learn more from reading things multiple times, I do know that I learn better when I’ve discussed the ideas and tried to apply them (especially if that application takes place in classroom and not in real life). That is how I think a class on the business (and life?) of a professional woodworker could be most helpful: simply taking the ideas you’ve written about and taking a group of students a little bit further with them.
I’m imagining a seminar in which we go through several modules…each student brings his/her own experiences and together, we discuss how we could best handle situations and talk about shared challenges. You could perhaps frame out some general overarching principles to all of the experiences you’ve shared.
A few topics I’d love to cover:
Difficult customers has to be one…your writing on this hilarious and I know there must be details that haven’t made it into print. While helpful and entertaining to read those stories, I think people could benefit from trying to discuss how they would handle a situation, and perhaps share how they have done it in the past.
Pricing. This is the biggest challenge for everyone I know doing this kind of work. I’d love to hear how you do it, in detail, and discuss with a group when to use fixed prices vs. time/materials, how/if you negotiate prices, etc. Do you have spreadsheets or other technical tools you could share?
Accounting tips. Again, this is a big challenge…and information is available in other places on the general concepts, but working through your experiences and discussing class member’s approaches could be useful.
Marketing/Scaling…you talk in the book about the aversion to having an employee…I think many feel that and want to do everything (except maybe the literal heavy-lifting) on their own. How do you market to get more work and then what do you do when you have a long backlog (and have a life)?
Work-life balance. Woodworking in a time-intensive profession…how do you extricate yourself at the end of the day? How do you organize your day–splitting up writing, woodworking, client meetings, etc.
Social media…how do you do it effectively and still get pieces out the door on time. Is it actually beneficial to your bottom line?
I actually read Making Things Work twice, and then bought more copies to give away. To me, this class would be an extension of that work and help some of dive deeper into the topics you’ve laid out there.
Why I think this is a good idea:
– You already have a ton of material
– It does not require a woodshop, so it could be anywhere.
– Much of the book focused on opening the eyes of daydreamers…this class would take the next step of helping those of us who read your warning, but are hurtling forward anyway 🙂
If you are interested in pursuing this further, I am ready to help with whatever I can offer to help get it off the ground.
Adam has gone above and beyond to make this event a reality. I’m really looking forward to it.–Nancy R. Hiller, author of Making Things Work