Journey of a Hammer

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Charlie called me. We usually catch up every other week or so.

This time he asked, “Hey, do you ever check your P.O. box?”

I laughed and told him, “No, Not very often.”

“Well, you might want to go take a look.”

That afternoon, I stopped by the P.O. box—nothing. I texted him to let him know, and he said he’d check on it.

A couple of days later, he called back. “Yeah, I sent you a package… somehow it went from Oregon to Hawaii, and now it’s on its way to Sonoma County.”

Eventually, it arrived.

Inside was a hammer.

Not just any hammer—this one was made by my friend Erin Sims. Erin is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet and a truly talented smith. He’s been on Forged in Fire a few times, and I’ve mentioned him in past blog posts. He once spending an hour showing me how to rebuild one of my anvils. He’s incredibly generous with his time and knowledge.

The hammer had made a journey before reaching me. Erin had originally traded it to another friend, Russ LaBue. Russ was a familiar face at blacksmithing events—always talkative, always kind, and someone I genuinely enjoyed spending time with. He passed away a couple of years ago. Before his health declined, he gave Charlie a number of his tools. Among them was the hammer from Erin. Charlie already had a hammer just like it from Erin. So Charlie decided to send it to me.

There’s a long-standing tradition in the blacksmithing world of giving hammers to people you respect. Historically, it was a master giving a hammer to an apprentice—a symbol that the apprentice had reached a level of skill worthy of recognition. I’ve always found that a little ironic, because by that stage, an apprentice should be fully capable of making their own tools. But that’s not really the point.

These days, I see the tradition a little differently. Often it’s a newer smith making a hammer and giving it to someone who helped them along the way—someone they respect, someone they’re grateful to. In that sense, it becomes less about skill level and more about appreciation.

Years ago, I gave one of my most important mentors, Ron McBride, a hammer I had made. It was my way of saying thank you for everything he had done for me. He was deeply touched and asked, “Do you know what it means to give someone a hammer?”

I told him I did—or at least I thought I did—and that was exactly why I was giving it to him.

When Charlie and I talked after I received the hammer, he made a point to explain the significance behind it. He wanted me to know it wasn’t just an extra tool—it was a gesture of appreciation for the help I’d given him over the years. I was able to tell him I understood, because I had made that same gesture myself.

This hammer means a lot to me. Not just because of who made it, but because of the path it took—crafted by someone I respect, passed through the hands of friends, and then taking a vacation to Hawaii be ending up at my shop.

I’ve thought about passing it along to another mentor as a way of continuing that chain of gratitude. But I really like the hammer, and I don’t think I want to part with it.

Instead, I’m considering making a few hammers of my own and giving them to people I’m grateful for- have them use them for a bit then pass it on to someone else who has made an impact on their life. I’d love to see how far something like that could go—how fare around the world it could carry.

I’ve written before about Michael Budd and John Barron—both have had a significant influence on my life. Years ago, at Spring Conference, we were working together on a sculpture. When it came time for the final hammer blow, Michael set the last rivet and then handed the hammer he had brought with him from Ireland to John, thanking him for his hospitality and generosity during the trip.

Now that Michael has passed, that moment—and that hammer—carry even more weight. I have no doubt John treasures it, not just as a tool, but as a lasting connection to a friend.