One of the many things that I am extremely grateful for - every single day - is this wonderful website that I created eight years ago as a way to share my deep love of manufacturing and my even deeper bond with the Tool and Die Industry.

In case you haven't figured it out by now, toolmaking and manufacturing is in my family's DNA. 

As the years have gone by, a lot of things have changed here...FaceBook groups and pages have been added, as well as hundreds of training videos. But...

I used to "write" a lot more. I spend SO much of my time recording audios and videos, but there really is something special about taking the time to write a new post from scratch...so here we go.

35 years ago - I was 23 years old - my first son, Matthew, was born. Major issues right from the start, as he suffered an infection and was in intensive care for about 5 days.

I always get a kick out of "know-it-all" parents" who were lucky enough to have super-compliant children right off the bat and act like they've cracked the "parenting code." HA. Three days with Matt would have put them in therapy immediately.

Always challenging us as parents, he was an enigma to me. Seriously...my son really needs to bleach his hair blonde? Get tattoos? Earrings? Jesus.

As the years went by, Matt and I shared a few very close bonds: a love of music, and our own brand of very un-PC and irreverent sense of humor. Nothing was "off limits" and sometimes he would just stare at me for 20 seconds before he burst out laughing, shaking his head at what the "old man" had just said.

Matt was a very talented musician and singer...from punk rock to James Taylor. The bands came and go, as did the jobs.

Matt was an artist, albeit a troubled one. He played with drugs from age 15, and could never seem to clean it up long enough to learn how to live sober. As his Dad...my heart was always heavy but clung to the hope that he'd eventually "grow up" and move on with his life.

In 2013, Matt came to me desperate for a job, which I was able to secure for him. He was awesome for six months, but the steady paycheck gave him the opportunity to return to his old bad habits...the first six months were great, and then the usual pattern of missing work started to kick in, which cost him his position.

A few months later, I got the call that no parent ever wants: Matt was dead, with a needle stuck in his leg. He had 30 times the amount of  fentanyl in his system that was considered fatal.

In the end, Matt had one of the largest funerals that Erie, PA has ever witnessed. Hundreds of people lined the funeral home during a January blizzard and waited for three hours to pay their respects and condolences. I met Matt's friends, his band members, his biker pals, his girlfriends and their mothers...I met his ex-girlfriends and their mothers, too.

I was blown away by how many lives this crazy yet very sensitive kid had touched during his lifetime. I sincerely hope that my funeral is just a little bigger so that I can give him hell about it when I see him again.

And with that...thanks for reading this.

Life is short. And it's later than you think. Call your Mom and Dad tonight...or your kids. Forgive and forget.

Happy 35th Birthday to Matthew Philip Kerner.

I miss you deeply, and it never gets any easier as the years go by.