My favorite smell is sawdust. Odd, right? Not to me. See, as a young boy I woke up to the sound of a table saw as my Mom ripped down sheets of plywood and shaped long 2x4s into more workable pieces. On really special days, I’d be enjoying a Pop-Tart and Mom would come in from the garage. She’d thrust a hammer into my hand and say: “I need you to hammer holes into the living room wall after you eat.”

“OK!” — I mean, really, what young child isn’t going to get excited about engaging in permitted destruction?

In elementary and middle school, my Mom always got involved. From building community award-winning floats, to nature trail fencing, to birdhouses, to an interesting small-business venture where she and I built wooden locker dividers that were substantially more stable than the cruddy plastic things everyone bought. She’d rip down the boards, I’d drill in the L brackets, and we’d assemble a few dozen at a time in the garage on the weekends. For $40, I’d somehow manage to lug a bunch of these dividers to school, and install them during my break period in our customer’s locker.

Looking back, I learned several things from that experience:

• If you’re organized, you can do a tremendous amount of physical labor without killing yourself.

• People like quality products.

• I’m quite good with my hands.

In the house we’ve been living in since the mid 90’s, Mom has:

• Renovated the kitchen. Twice.

• Remodeled the basement.

• Installed a sauna, a hot tub, and two new showers (one tiled, one bricked).

• Laid down hardwood floors.

• Landscaped the entire front and back yards multiple times. Using me as conscripted labor.

• Built four, interconnected decks in the backyard.

• Created my first bookshelf for my room.

• Developed a giant entertainment center for the living room.

• Crafted a sun-drenched office space for my dad out of our old screened-in porch, complete with a hidden door.

• Built my sister and I matching bunk-beds, in secret, for a special Christmas gift when we were little.

• Hand-crafted a nearly two-story structure at Windsor Parkway for an elevated scoreboard for youth games.

Growing up, I saw my Mom most often with her hair tied up, work belt on, and hammering away at something. I’d see her whack or cut a finger, tape it up, and get back to her project. Those that know my family from a distance may think I get my toughness from my Dad. Nope, my Mom is the spine in me.

We share a passion for working with our hands, and I’ve felt more connected to my Mom since I started at lineman school and am getting my feet under me while working in the utility industry. Whether I’m jackhammering a hole, or stapling in pole grounds, I think of how much my Mom would enjoy this kind of work. Well, part of it. She contracts out electrical work due to a bad experience with a fork and an electrical socket in her childhood. She got all excited when I brought my tools home from school, and then we pilfered her workshop for a few more tools that I’d likely find useful.

Most meaningfully, I carry my grandfather’s measuring tape in my tool bag. Grandpa taught Mom how to build everything, and even showed me a more effective way to smash down walls as a child (you put down the hammer and ram a 2x4 into the wall). Now, I’m carrying on part of the family tradition in my pursuit of becoming a journeyman lineman.

I wear steel-toed boots, handle tools, and sometimes smash my finger. Then, I do what my Mom has always done: tape myself up and get back to work.

Happy Birthday Mom.