Those are the words of advice Joseph Campbell, the 20th century philosopher, gave Bill Moyers on his widely acclaimed PBS special, “The Power of Myth.” It sounded so easy when Campbell explained it but it is rare to meet people who seemed to have inculcated that into their daily living. They are out there and I have had the joy of meeting a pair of them.
It all started very innocently when I was given a beagle puppy by a patient who raised champions but had become too ill for the task. As it happened, the baby beagle was more than I, and more importantly my neighbors, could handle. Such loveable creatures are made for outdoor activity, and that wasn’t available so another home had to be found.
A cardiac nurse, Jenny, with whom I worked heard my tale of woe and volunteered that she and her husband lived in a cove on Bent Mountain and would be happy to take him in. The exchange was made and I knew he was following his beagle bliss in the truest canine application.
Some weeks later, Jenny arrived at work with a thank you present: It was, of all things, a snake carved from a single stick of native walnut and articulated into a three dimensional puzzle. Jenny explained that her husband, Peter, was a cabinet maker and had fashioned this puzzle from a piece of scrap.
I had read an article in The Roanoke Times about his work. He had completed four of the required five years at Virginia Tech’s School of Architecture but had become disillusioned with his artistic designs being rejected by prospective clients, so he dropped out of school, was immediately in the Air Force during Vietnam, and then found his way to New Hope, PA and the shops of George Nakashima, a world-famous producer of high-end furniture, who hired him and taught him the artistry of woodworking.
Eventually, Peter and Jenny found their way to Bent Mountain where he produced one-of-a-kind custom furniture. His productions frequently had a whimsical touch: Three Queen Anne legs on a table, the fourth leg ending in a horse’s foot or a lion’s paw. Being an amateur wood worker I sent him, via Jenny, a perfectly constructed dove tail joint. She returned it the following day with the comment that I had used a jig and that Peter had said “when he can do that freehand he will understand true bliss.”
Soon he and Jenny realized that my walnut snake puzzle was an idea that, the businessmen are wont to say, could be monetized! Three dimensional wooden animal puzzles began to appear in high-end galleries at The Homestead, at the Greenbrier, at the Smithsonian, on The Blue Ridge Parkway gift shops, in Asheville, and all over the world. It became such a lucrative operation that the custom-made furniture became past history. Jenny gave up being a cardiac nurse and became the business manager for his hand-crafted Class Menagerie, as his enterprise is called now.
I have had him make hand-crafted puzzles for my grandchildren, although he does not sell directly to the public, only through galleries. When I picked up his latest creation for my granddaughter’s high school graduation, the best part was sitting in The Bent Mountain Bistro (top of Bent Mountain on 221 . . . don’t miss it!) with Jenny and Peter. They may have never heard Joseph Campbell’s admonition but they have certainly found it. Drinking hard cider and listening to them talk, I felt blessed by the peacefulness of their presence.
Check out the online sites: Class Menageries (Puzzled Animal Sculptures), [email protected], or chapmanpuzzles.com. I was pleased to see on his business card a drawing of “my snake.” I never thought I would find a physical representation of following your bliss in a mountain cove but there it is. We should all be so fortunate.
Hayden Hollingsworth