A quick history
The pressure to be good with limb dividing tools as a tiny male child is…insane. There are like, five warning labels on the table saw, and teachers throw children in front of it, sweaty from gym class. For what? A shitty birdhouse? In exchange for my finger?
I’ve been trying to re-engineer my brain to not feel embarrassed by lack of skill. At 12, my wood shop classmates had the confidence of Christ (a once-famous carpenter) hammering away in the shop. I’m sure their birdhouses were shitty too, but I can only remember the dread of being the doofus in wood shop.
Even in the more feminine environment (don’t cancel me) of high school theater, the wood shop gave me great anxiety. I’m sure it was wrapped up in my Left-handedness (and blossoming queerdom) — but ultimately, I think it was just my fear of looking dumb.
My mom would often tell guests in our house that my dad had “done all of this crown-molding! Isn’t that amazing?” — but I don’t remember him being particularly handy. He and I made a race car once for Boy Scouts and were laughed out of the building (assuming this isn’t true but it’s how I remember it). The only formal education I’ve had on the names of power tools is, truly, Home Improvement.
There’s a lot wrapped up in "manliness” and “woodworking.” Well, at least there was a lot more wrapped up in it in 2003 (only 90s kids will understand vibes).
Anyhoops, I’m writing this now to say, this month I’ve been wood working. I’ve been fucking up and I’ve been dumb. I’ve learned the names of a few tools without the help of Tim Allen, and—stay tuned—there might be a birdhouse on the way.
How do you start?
Chris bought a pair of industrial steel legs and chatted it over with his dad: let’s make an epic(ally simple) desk. I was grateful to be shoved off the wood working cliff but, I was not gifted the Group Project gene. As a non-confrontation midwesterner, I find it easy to sit passenger if someone wants to drive.
This bled into the planning a bit. Both Chris and I have stern opinions, and it took a good chunk of pages to land on a simple desk design.
With wood purchased and Papa Dwan patient enough to teach two 30-year-olds a grade school level Wood Shop class, we ended up making something I’m pretty proud of. She’s sturdy, she has sharp corners, and she’s the first thing I’ve made without the help of Adobe Software Big shocker: there’s no undue button in wood working (something I would think about changing if I were the almighty god herself).
Initial Learnings from a Starter
Work patiently: The more you’ve built, the less you’ll want to fuck up.
Buy extra wood (for when you do fuck up)
Talk to someone: Wood working, like many trades, is best learned with conversation and practice. There are so many kinds of screws and so many kinds of drills and so many unique cuts of wood, why on earth would you, an absolute beginner, have any fucking clue what you’re doing? Ask.
Clamps, clamps, clamps: In an ideal world, you can clamp up the entire project without piercing a single board of wood
Put your boards on the floor: Warped boards, even slightly, can really take the steam out of your project. In the pursuit of perfect, we ended up planing wood. Before you buy those boards, put them down and see how well they fit together.
Wear ear protectors: The best thing about learning a skill in your 30s if you don’t have to pretend to have giant balls. Power tools are loud - protecting your ears is not only smart, but I found it took out any initial bits of fear I had with the first few cuts.
Plug in one tool at a time: Pat (Chris’ dad) had a smart habit of keeping only one power tool plugged in at a time. Coming from a generation that keeps 4,568 Chrome tabs open at once, I enjoyed the more focused attention at the job at hand. And, of course, it’s a safer.
Learn about pilot holes: There are a handful of YouTube videos, but the long and short of it is, drill a hole as a primer for the screw or nail. Beyond helping the boards stave off cracking, it’s a kind-of nice warm up for nervous hands.
Drill straight, drill confidently: [Straight and confident joke here]
Have a beer when it’s done: Hell, have two.
