Cabinets my dad made for a bathroom remodel.

This isn’t a story about getting back up on the horse. This is a story about the guy who gets his teeth kicked in by the horse and then tells everyone, “ehhh, I never liked flossing anyways.”

Here’s three reasons why my dad rocks.

• He has incredible talent to create something from nothing
• His hobbies carry more work ethic than most people have towards their careers
• He always looks for the good in life

Please bare with me as my pride overflows a little here.

My dad built the house I grew up in with his bare hands and a lot of sweat. Impressive since he worked for an insurance company and had no formal training in construction.

That home has evolved, especially after he built a barn/workshop on the property. The workshop is like his lab. You could say he is a bit of a mad scientist except with wood working.

I say mad scientist because he’s not your typical do-it-yourselfer.

One day in High School I was walking down the driveway and my dad was welding something in his lab. He had found directions online on how to build your own sawmill (naturally). He had a hankering to cut out the middle guy, also known as Home Depot, for his future house projects.

Flash forward 12 years and all the cabinets and floors in my parents house are all made of cherries and maples. Trees that used to be in the backyard.

He does this stuff for fun. He does it because his sons keep bugging him for more stuff for their homes. He does it because he can.

So enough back story. Let’s make this story about me… because I can.

This past Saturday I woke up with a stick in the mud attitude. I didn’t sleep well the night before. I had a list of things I wanted to get done and snowy, cold weather wasn’t helping with that. I decided to put some of the items on the back burner and hit the gym to play some basketball.

This was a mistake. My body was sore from playing the day before but I played regardless. I ended up dislocating my left ring finger which happens so often it is turning into a party trick. Seriously, I just tug it back into place and it is fine in a few days.

I hit my breaking point with the challenges winter throws at you. I was also sick of my finger giving me problems routinely. My poor fiancee Leigh was the recipient of my venting. This was around noon on Saturday.

About 1:30pm on Saturday I got a call from my brother. He told me that dad had been in an accident and was heading to the hospital. It involved his workshop.

I’ll spare the gruesome details, but my dad was making furniture for his living room. He unfortunately fought one of his wood working machines in hand-to-machine combat. The machine won.

Saturday was a very long day.

Both my father and I injured our left ring fingers on Saturday afternoon. Sunday morning my finger was slightly swollen while my dad’s ring finger was partially amputated. His broken wedding ring of nearly 37 years lies alone on the kitchen table.

For about an hour and half on Saturday I sulked and complained until I heard the news about my dad. About 20 hours later he sent me a text on Sunday morning.

“He who never makes mistakes never makes anything.”

If that isn’t an ironic lesson on perspective and attitude, I don’t know what is.

My dad spent Sunday saying how lucky he was that it was his left hand and not his thumb or pointer finger. He talked about getting back in the workshop and finishing the table he was working on. He spent the day looking for the good in life despite having three fingers cut short the day before.

I want people to think I’m a guy that leads by example.

I was reminded this past weekend that to lead by example, you have to have someone show you first.

Thanks for leading the way, dad.