Woodworking has been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember.  Surprisingly, it wasn't a hobbyist family member, a television program, or even a trade publication that ignited my interest - it was an auction.

Perhaps it was genetic - what fans of the Scott Adams cartoon Dilbert might describe as "the knack" - as my father is likewise an engineer.  Memories of my childhood include playing around car parts on the driveway as my dad was fixing the family car.  Raising a family of six, he was always on the lookout for a way to leverage his mechanical expertise to resurrect a bargain.  On the hunt for a deal on a riding lawn mower on sunny Saturday when I was a child, he took me to my first auction.

At this point, memories of the event are a blur.  I know we didn't come home with the tractor because people got whipped into a bidding frenzy driving the price of a used tractor greater than a new one from the local supplier.  I don't even remember if it was purchased or was the result of bidding, but before leaving the event, my dad turned to me and handed me a tool I did not recognize - a draw knife.  Much like a medieval knight's apprentice being handed a sword for the first time, I was in awe of its purposeful simplicity and keen edge.  The final spoken words as the torch was passed, "Don't cut yourself."

While the menacing look of tool does have a trip to the emergency room for stitches written all over it, the handles keep both hands well away of the cutting edge.  Over time, I was able to go from randomly hacking out large chunks of wood from anything encountering my blade to shaping many different wooden object with speed and precision.  Without knowingly trying, I was able to always successfully heed my father's final words - at least with the draw knife.

Although my collection of power tools has substantially grown over the years, I still return to many hand tools such as the draw knife when I can.  They are significantly quieter, require no electricity, and make wood chips that are almost pleasing rather than fine dust that covers everything in the shop.

I'm quite certain that sparking an avocation - let alone a vocation - for me was not the intention for attending that auction many years ago, but I sure am grateful for the result.  The family could have probably used a lawn mower far more than a draw knife, but where's the inspiration in that?