That's it ... a good name for me to sign my chairs with ... Wildwood Dean! Zap! Suddenly I was jolted awake by lightning and a clap of thunder. Finding at my feet, three more bundles to carry back down the river across the swamp and to my truck, I put the dream machine into the back of my mind. The name stuck, I became Wildwood Dean. Early on, before I had a shop, I worked out of our living room. I remembered back to the days of my childhood; the curly shavings from Dad's whittling and shaping net hoops littered the floor. Hanging from the walls and door facings, were nets in varying stages of completion. Skeins of cotton twine hung from all the straight chair backs. I admired Mother, for all the patience and understanding she displayed, through the clutter of it all. Not to have worried, just like Mother, my wife earned my admiration; living with a shop in the house.