My whole life growing up as a maker of things, I never really followed any rules or learned the right way of doing something. I would pick up a tool and not know what it was or what it was for, although I‚Äôd still use it in whatever way I could. This old chisel set handed down to me by my friends‚Äô grandfather was one such set of tools. I used these things growing up on all sorts of projects and materials, although now in life I know they really only should have been used on wood. Some have chips in the blades from me hacking away at hard stones and marble bricks, but most of them have withstood the terrible onslaught of abuse I inflicted on them. They remind me of how much of a destructor I was growing up, I truly was that evil neighbor kid in the movie Toy Story who went all crazy on anything he could get his hands on. These chisels have seen a ‚Äėlickin and have kept on tickin‚Äô ‚Äď They hang on my wall of tools and are used on a daily basis, still in ways they probably shouldn‚Äôt be.