Recently, I really had to get a new filing cabinet. File drawers. I knew what I was looking for, and I found it at a “used office furniture” warehouse/store. Down on the south side. Really liked the guy as he understood what I was looking for, and he had something that fit my exact description, in his warehouse.

Solid wood, not particle board or laminate, or worse, plastic. Made me pause and think about a set of friends of mine. One of them, well, they’re both older than me, but at least one of them looks younger, and was, at one time, mistaken for my younger brother.

Both my buddies, in different parts of Texas now, both are woodworkers. For one, it’s a hobby. He does it for fun. Built most of his own furniture, but he did that out his own interest rather any real – or perceived – need. It was both a challenge and personally rewarding.

My other buddy, he owns a high-end cabinet shop. I recall his handiwork, quite good, better than most as a finish carpenter, and he does high end custom work these days. Great pride in his handcrafted woodwork. For him, it’s a job. It’s his day job. One he enjoys, he’s quite accomplished, but it is a job.

For one guy, it’s a hobby. For the other guy, it’s work. Both love it. Both turn out amazing pieces of woodwork, truly, works of art, but there’s a subtle difference. Pass time for one, wage earning for the other.

Passion about the art, for both of them, runs high. But it’s different. Same type of effort, same “art” is involved, but some similarities don’t hold. Work for one, play for the other.

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