My pandemic workbench.

I have been an avid woodworker for years, working on one project or another in my spare time. I’ve built blanket chests, cutting boards, small tables and the like over the past few years, but like many, have become distracted by the usual responsibilities of life. Having three boys and a job in healthcare means long hours, busy weekends and little time for ambitious grandiose projects. This all changed in March of 2020.

I work in a health care and have never been in a position where I thought my job was ever in jeopardy. As the pandemic raged here in New York, we were put in lockdown, which meant no elective cases in the hospital. As an independent contractor in my industry (which until now had awarded me a better schedule and more freedom) it meant I was the first to be laid off.

Home now with my wife and kids (no school either), I was faced with long hours closed inside with nowhere to go and nothing to do. By the second week, I came to the realization that this was going to be a while, so I sought solace where I have in the past: my small basement shop.

It is nothing special. In fact, its little more than a dungeon but with slightly better lighting. Growing up watching the New Yankee Workshop on weekend mornings, I dreamt of a shop like Norm Abrams worked in. My shop is filled with objects that comfort me, including carved panels, a mostly finished version of a Roubo bench and, of course, a collection of hand tools and some power tools (a router, some battery drills and a very sad, over-used contractor-style table saw). Just standing there made me feel better. Over the next few weeks, I built a bird house out of scrap with my 5-year-old and a dining room table from cherry with oak aprons and legs. My next project was one that was pitched to me from a friend who was unemployed due to Covid and was new to woodworking.

My buddy had been working building small projects out of his garage using some Paul Seller’s style sawhorses as a makeshift bench. They worked but were a far cry from a functional joiners bench. After research, he had come across a video on building a Moravian workbench by Will Myers. After sharing with me, I was immediately hooked. The design was radically different with legs at 15° angles, a leg vise, a carriage vise, a thick top, a multitude of great joints to practice the craft on, and some tusk tenons holding it all together so it could be disassembled easily and moved or stored. I HAD TO HAVE THIS BENCH!

After we talked and did some planning on the phone we began to get together and start the build. We were unemployed and it was a pandemic, so we had some hurdles to overcome. We didn’t have a lot of money to go splurging on wood and a lot of our sources were closed at the time.

I decided we would use wood I had been hoarding in my basement for years. Lots of 8/4 hardwood of mixed species, specifically oak, maple and cherry. We would buy only what we absolutely needed. When we measured all the hardwood for the bench tops, we were short. Then I remembered there was some large riven chunks of red oak air drying in the side yard. A little elbow grease and problem solved.

With the planning done, we set to work. We did some of the work together, some apart. When together we maintained social distancing and wore masks when we couldn’t (it was a pandemic after all). My father-in-law was even showing up occasionally to give his grunt of approval as he watched the project unfold. We went old school on the log in the side yard and spend the day riving, axing and handplaning until I had something that would fit through my planer. There were days spent chopping mortises, cutting tenons, and continuously planing wood to the correct dimension. In addition to the woodworking, there was also the occasional Scotch shared among friends over a pile of wood shavings.

At the end of it all, I have far more than just a great new bench. I have even more appreciation of what woodworking and the art of building something with your hands can do. It can bring friends together during times of worry, relieve anxiety and give you back a sense of purpose when you have lost yours. When we were building our benches, we weren’t thinking about the pandemic or our jobs; we were thinking one joint at a time on the task at hand. So next time you find yourself drowning in the world around you, take a walk down the stairs to the workshop and pick up a saw or your favorite plane. You might just wind up with more than just a great new bench.