Don't Wait on a Memory

It came as a shock last month to hear that Michael Budd was killed in a motorcycle accident.

I was fortunate enough to work with him at the California Blacksmith Association Spring Conference a couple of years ago. We did a sculpture build alongside John Barron, Peter Clark, Heather McLarty, Monica Coyne and Dave Thayer. It was a three-day marathon of fun and fellowship that I will remember for the rest of my life.

Since then, I had emailed Michael a couple of times. We talked about different things in the blacksmithing world. It’s an odd thing to feel like someone is your friend when you’ve only spent a few days together—but those days were meaningful. The rest of the people involved in that sculpture build I’ve seen several times since. They’re all California residents, so it’s been easier to reconnect. Our group has even gotten together a couple of times, and it always felt like, “We’re all here—we’re just missing Michael.” Now we’re truly missing him.

The last thing he said to me in person was to come visit him in Ireland. I had every intention of doing that. I’m still getting my head around the fact that it’s no longer an option. He had so much more to give to the blacksmithing world and to metal art in general. He had knowledge I still wanted to learn from him.

As I think about losing him, I feel the need to call the rest of that group—just to say hello and tell them I miss them. There are several other people I need to reach out to as well.

After the initial shock, I started reflecting on my own place in the blacksmithing world—my own journey as a craftsman and artist. Michael was a few years older than I am. He was more established, more widely known. I can’t help but compare myself and wonder if I measure up.

But this past week, something shifted.

I was finishing a sample railing job that pushed both my skills and my equipment into new territory—farther than I realized I was capable of going. Then my nephews came over, and together we forged frying pans—another first for me. As they worked in my shop, I stepped back and really took it in. I was sharing time at the forge with people I care about while stretching my own limits.

We were fairly successful on our first attempt, largely because of our combined knowledge. One nephew is an engineer. The other is a shop foreman at a large metal shop. Before we ever heated steel, we had thought through the tooling and approach, we had the knowledge and know how to set our selves up for success. 

One of the most satisfying parts of this week is that I faced several new challenges—things I hadn’t done before—and accomplished them. I realized I have the knowledge and experience to take on new tasks, figure out how to make them work, and produce a successful result without excessive struggle.

I think it’s human nature, when we lose someone, to measure ourselves against their achievements and their place in the world—and to hope we measure up.

As I grieve for Michael, I don’t feel like I measure up.

This past week, I stepped up to the plate. I pushed forward. I progressed.