Since I was a little kid, I was always a maker. Except for my mom, who tended more to the practical (as in volunteering to help people and being a patient advocate), my brother, two sisters and I grew up drawing, painting and making things. My brother built models (some of which he designed himself) and messed around in my dad's wood shop (which I envied him for - I have not, to this day, learned my way around a wood shop). My dad grew up poor in Scranton PA, and made his own toys as a kid. As a grown up, he would spend his evening hours in the basement, running power tools. He made toys, book shelves and other things, and, as a grandfather, became a virtual Santa's workshop every Christmas. Eventually, our coloring books gave way to sketch books. My older sister drew big-eyed girls; I tended towards sunbursts and more abstract designs; my other sister, being the youngest, sort of trailed along and came into her own in creativity later. I remember my sisters and I sitt