The Heart of Every Grain: My Story

I retired from the Air Force in 2016 and immediately returned to the DoD as a contractor for six years — because apparently freedom is a concept I needed more time to process. This included a delightful 14-month excursion to Kabul, Afghanistan, before I eventually landed a position as a government civilian.

During that time, COVID happened (you may have heard of it), and my wife — an early childhood educator — began making sugar cookies to pass the time. What started as a quarantine hobby quickly became a thriving side hustle. Around this same period, she began hinting that I should perhaps put down the video games and find a more productive use of my time. The hints were subtle. They were not subtle.

After four to five years of patient, loving, relentless persistence, she wore me down. In January of this year, I resolved to start making custom cornhole boards. I bought a fancy jig, several sheets of 4'x8' ¾" plywood, and even built a slick vertical cutting rack — similar to the one at the back of Lowe's that is perpetually "broken" (read: they simply do not want to cut your wood). I was fully committed.

Then I made a catastrophic mistake: I bought my first piece of walnut.

Plot twist — I did not go on to make a single cornhole board. Instead, I fell completely and irreversibly in love with live-edge hardwood. The cornhole boards never stood a chance.

My original plan was modest: make a couple of boards for personal use, maybe tag along to a craft show or two with my wife. Then my ADHD superpowers activated. In April, my counselor asked what my goal was before attending my first show. I told her 25 boards. In July, she followed up: "So, how are you coming along with your 25 boards?" I had 90. My wife gently suggested I might want to start selling some of my board hoard before we lost the living room entirely. The first week of August, I officially opened a booth at the Ruckersville Gallery.