I grew up in a house where there were always multiple projects in process–to my mother’s occasional dismay–because my dad can fix anything. Not just a leaky faucet or a creaky door, my dad single-handedly turned our unfinished attic into three bedrooms and two baths on nights and weekends. I don’t know how my dad knew how to expertly and evenly apply sheetrock mud or install doors and windows, but he did. He had a basement full of tools and he taught me how to use them though he didn’t stand for excuses when one was missing. When I was leaving for college he asked what I would miss most aside from family. My answer was his tools. He took me to Home Depot, bought me a toolbox and filled it. That day he bought my circular saw–the one I’m using to build a house in PNG because we don’t skimp on tools. When Elizabeth and I moved into our first house he bought my miter saw which is also busy in PNG. But my dad didn’t just buy tools. He taught me to make stuff and fix stuff, to be a man, to work hard and to do my best. My dad taught me loads of other great stuff about being a husband, being a father, and being a man, but as I build the house that my architect-dad designed, I want say thanks Dad for teaching me to do stuff with tools.