It is with a heavy heart that I write this post. ES&S Woodworking has suffered a loss today. My Dad, 77, passed away this morning.

My Dad was my teacher in every sense of the word. After graduating from the Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia he got his teaching certificate and then his Master’s degree. 

I have fond memories of walking from my elementary school across the parking lot at Schuylkill Haven Area and sitting at the giant desks in his art room. I would design vast cities on other worlds while he finished up his work; offering suggestions to me on how those cities might look along the way. When he wasn’t teaching, he was remodeling homes with his friends. That is when ES&S originally came into the world. Back then it stood for Evenings, Saturdays and Summers since that is when the group of teachers could work this side job. He didn’t like to be bored.

As I got older so did the lessons. I distinctly remember being around ten years old and talking to him about a rubber band gun we had seen in a novelty shop while on a bus trip. He got up from the kitchen table and said, “I think I have one of those in the basement”.  I followed him downstairs eagerly and watched as he sifted through shelves of lumber in the woodshop. I was thoroughly confused as to why he would have a rubber band gun stored amongst all of that. Then he pulled out a thick piece of pine and said, “Here it is” and he started cutting away. My mind was blown. “We’re just going to build it? Just like that?”. It turned out great and I loved that rubber band gun. That’s when the notion that building something myself might be more fun than buying it.

He taught all of us to think critically and not settle for anything that was just “fine”. When I was in High School, I took all of the courses he offered. I loved being in his art room. It was a sanctuary where creativity was encouraged, and I was never bored. He would walk by and offer suggestions as I was throwing on the potter’s wheel or mixing oil paints and often would say “It’s too good not to be better”. That was his way of telling me not to cut corners, not to settle, not to say just say “it’s fine”.

When I first talked to him about turning our woodshop into a legitimate business, he offered to use the name ES&S. There were a lot of flashier options out there that might appeal more to new customers, but it meant a lot to me that he wanted us to use the name he created. Since 2015 I have spent hundreds, if not thousands of hours, with him in the woodshop building customer orders, inventory for shows and learning new methods of building. He helped me to understand fine joinery. He taught me proper chisel technique on the lathe. He showed me how to think through the steps of complicated projects. It was difficult and dusty and sometimes expensive, but mostly it was fantastic.

The woodshop quickly became a family affair and I found myself spending all of my free time with them on this endeavor. We would show up in the early morning with Dunkin in hand and spend all day in the shop. Only emerging from the sawdust to break for meals. While others were out attending events and going to bars we were milling walnut and clear coating furniture. I wouldn’t trade a minute of it.

So now we are forced to look at a future without Dad quietly steering the ship and offering his advice. I don’t know where that might lead us. I do know that I am going to try my best. I am going to get back into the shop and keep building. I am going to grow this crazy project we started as a family. Frankly, it’s just too good not to be better.

Thanks Dad.