Updated: Jan 31, 2020
I know many of you are thinking, what in the world? Why ‘In The Print Shop’?” It’s actually quite easy to explain. My dear father owned his own print shop. Along with teaching, coaching, selling textiles, volunteering a ton and supporting my mother while she earned her Masters in Education and National Board Certification all of this while my sister and I were very young. So, as you can imagine, I kind of grew up in the print shop. All the many hours listening to the rhythmic beat of the press, the smell of ink and glue and the old wooden floors are memories that are so permanently etched into who I am there really wasn’t another choice for my shop. Many many many mundane things happened over the years in the print shop, but it’s the following important ones that have shaped my life.
First of all, obviously, my love for paper and all things beautiful. There is just something about a blank piece of stationery waiting for a lovely voice. As I grew up I watched my father agonize over every small detail. I have seen him throw out thousands of sheets of paper (well recycled them!) that weren’t printed perfectly for his client. He demanded perfection from himself and as I came on board to work for him, he demanded it from me as well. A lesson well taught and I am forever grateful to have learned it. I also learned how to work hard for what I want and to be willing to sacrifice.
Probably my favorite thing that happened in the print shop I wasn’t even there for. My husband, Jeff, dropped in briefly during a difficult job and asked my father if he could ask me to marry him. My father and my husband tell the story much better than I. The gist, however, is this. My father was working on a job from a large client. It wasn’t going well and Jeff showed up. Over the large press, which as you can imagine is very loud, my husband screams “Ken I need to ask you something” my dad probably somewhat irritated says “ask it!” Jeff I do believe got to the point rather quickly and screams “I’d like to ask Andi to marry me.” To which my father responds flippantly “okay that’s fine” without stopping the press without so much as making eye contact it was done. Dad says it was such a hard job he didn’t have time to deal with it but we all know that my father adored Jeff and still does. He knew that Jeff would make me happy, take care of me and love me in a way no one else on earth could. He was so at peace and confident about it that he didn’t even take a minute to consider it! I hope when you’re spending time with us here, you too feel like you are part of this story. A story yet to be written and I hope that you come “in the Print Shop” with inspiration and excitement along with me.