Rebuilding more than just a workshop…

Hey, I’m Ken and this is my story. Please let me paint you a picture, if you will.

In a quiet corner of the Poconos, where the hum of machinery and the scent of sawdust hung in the air, there was an engineer's workshop. This place was more than just a collection of tools and gadgets; it was a sacred space where creativity met innovation and where ideas turned into reality.

That is, until one fateful day: September 11th 2023.

For years, I had meticulously curated each tool and each machine in this workshop with loving care and precision. They were not just instruments; they were extensions of my mind and my hands, keys to unlocking the world of invention that I inhabited. This workshop was where dreams took shape, where prototypes came to life, and where the impossible became achievable.

But one bleak morning, as I stood before the workshop's entrance, I was met with a sight that sent shivers down my spine.

The door, once a symbol of security and opportunity, lay ajar, its lock still locked but an empty tool box in its jam. Heart pounding, I cautiously stepped inside with a sinking feeling gnawing at my gut.

The scene was even more devastating than I thought.

Shelves were ransacked, drawers were pulled out, and every once-familiar tool that had once been my pride and joy was gone. Every single one. Name a tool I had it, but now not even a hammer remained. The workshop had been violated and pillaged by those who saw only the value of what they stole, not the dreams they helped forge.

The impact was immediate and overwhelming.

It wasn't just the financial loss, though that in itself was substantial. It was the sensation of having a piece of my soul torn away. My beloved machines, each with a unique purpose and personality, were gone. My tools, the loyal companions of countless late nights and early mornings, had vanished into the hands of thieves who saw no more than dollar signs.

The consequences rippled throughout my life like shockwaves.

Work projects, in various stages of development, were left in disarray. Clients who relied on my expertise were left in the lurch, their deadlines impossible to meet. Bills once always paid on time, were now pass due and quickly began to pileup. The income that had supported me, my passion, and my livelihood was abruptly severed, leaving a void of uncertainty.

Emotionally, the impact was just as devastating.

The workshop had been more than just concrete and steel beams; it was a sanctuary where I could lose myself in the symphony of gears, the dance of circuits, and the poetry of design but now, it was a haunting reminder of what had been stolen from me. Sleepless nights were filled with a maelstrom of anger, frustration, and grief.

Yet, amid the darkness, a glimmer of hope emerged.

Colleagues, friends, and even strangers rallied around me. They encouraged me to create a GoFundMe page, a beacon of support in my time of need; helped me see that I wasn't alone in my struggle, that the world still valued the pursuit of innovation and engineering, and that my dreams were not yet dead.

As I embarked on the journey to rebuild my workshop, I know it would be an arduous road, but with the unwavering support of a community that understood the depths of my loss, I will rise from the ashes, rebuild my machines, and continue to dream the dreams that no theft could ever take away.

With your help and selfless kindness, I can continue on my journey, and I will forever be grateful, thank you, truly, thank you.

If you have even read this far I just want you to know I appreciate your time so much, and I will make sure any funds received will be put to rebuilding my workshop to an even better state than it was before. Thank you.