Page 661 - Total War on PTSD

War. When he returned home he didn’t want to return to the farm life so he started woodworking as a business. I heard stories of him riding a Harley Davidson to each job with a sidecar turned ladder rack right next to him.
My father started working with him in the late 70s and by the time I was born in 1984 they had already managed to scale into a 2,400 square foot facility. It looked like my grandfather had successfully changed the trajectory of our family. He took us out of farming and into woodworking. A decision without a doubt led by God knowing that woodworking would be the purpose I needed much later in life.
As a kid I remember annoying my father in the shop all the time with request to start nails or cut boards. I am sure my father never seen it that way though, he was just happy to be able to teach me. For me the hammer in my hands was heavy and foreign, so I would choke up on the handle grabbing close to the head. I thought this made things easier, but I didn’t understand the physics behind the hammer. It would take me dozens of taps on the head of the nail to get the nail moving. My father would coach me and tell me to hold back further on the handle in order to get better swings. Now I was missing the head of the nail repeatedly. But you know what? I learned determination, perseverance, and how to swing a hammer when I was incredibly young.
I remember the first time I grabbed some hard maple to practice on. “Dad can you start some nails for me?” He laughed a little bit, at least in my memory, and he might have said something about the wood selection, but I didn’t hear it. I was just staring at the
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