Growing up in the cornfields of southern Minnesota, my brother and I had plenty of time to venture out. We were active boys full of imagination with a decent size world as our stomping ground. In today’s culture, we would have been considered free range children. I spent most of my growing up years in a small town called Rapidan. It consisted of one intersection, two churches, and a bike trail that if you chose to ride its course through the country, five miles later you’d end up in a nearby city which possessed the name Mankato. My brother Judah and I would spend hours and hours going up and down this trail to a nearby train trestle which had been converted for the use of this public trail. Under this bridge, we would attempt to build small dams, catch animals, and carve our names and other things into the side of the sandstone cliffs lining the small riverside. I find that this time of being a boy who managed countless hours of manual labor all in the name of play and fun to be so profound. I learned skills that no classroom ever taught me. The mechanical process of overcoming the many problems we faced is something that has served me well as an electrician. We built small dams, forts, dropped huge rocks off the bridge, and the list of small enjoyable accomplishments just keeps going and going.