I remember lugging blocks over to Dad and my brother, muddy sweat running down my arms, thinking maybe I didn’t want to do this for the next 40 years. I had this weird knack for drawing — maybe I could do something with that. Then I laughed it off. I’m a Hackett, I told myself. We build things.

A few years later, I was 23 and running my own crew — foreman at another company. Thought I’d made it. Then I started noticing Dad slowing down. His back was going bad, his hands hurt, even fishing wasn’t easy for him anymore. Watching that hit me hard. It made me start wondering how much of myself I was willing to trade for the work that wears you down.

So I did something about it. Went to college. Then to a private art school. And I’ve scraped by as a graphic designer and artist ever since. I had somehow managed to make a living in the art world.

Last summer I had a show at the Golphstok Music and Art Festival. I took a step back, looked around, and couldn’t help but laugh. Right behind my booth was the bathroom I’d helped build over 30 years ago. I laid those blocks when I was 19 while dreaming about being an artist.

That show was pretty small as far as art shows go. I didn’t have a fancy setup and my work isn’t all that great, but it was proof that the kid hauling blocks in the heat was able to change his life course.

If a kid sweating through July days, lugging blocks under the hot sun, could take a chance and carve a new path, even with just moderate talent — then so can you.

It’s not about being the best from the start; it’s about showing up, taking the first step, and refusing to let the doubt control you.

The end.