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My best and most toxic trait.
My kids think I have no idea what I’m doing. They’re not wrong.
Sam Yarborough
October 29, 2026
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Hi Arcadians -
The other day I was being interviewed by a dear friend who is getting his doctorate. He asked me who in my life had been the most influential. It's a common question, but I don't get asked it often, and immediately, without pause, an image of my grandfather Roger popped into my head.
Grandpa was a shop teacher at his local high school. He also built his house with his own hands, and surely enlisted my mom, uncle, and grandmother to help. They had the most amazing garden that they would tend to, can the food from, and live off of. They raised cattle, fixed fence, and laid pipe. And his true craft was woodworking, building furniture.
I have so many vivid memories of learning alongside him. It was never postured that way, though. We were just existing and doing what needed to be done. But one day, I told him I wanted to build a box for my treasures. While this was probably a very simple thing for him, he very patiently obliged. We went into his shop, and he showed me how to pick out the wood. He let me lead the project. We glued and we nailed. I finished the shape of the box, and I was very happy with it.
Then I went out to play on the swing set or feed the cows an apple.
And while a rudimentary box would have been absolutely fine for my young needs, it wasn't good enough for him. I had found a piece of interesting-looking bark earlier that day. The next morning, I found a professionally finished project. It was sanded and stained, the lid fit together perfectly, and that interesting piece of bark had become the handle. It said everything about who he was: his patience, his craftsmanship, and his desire to create beautiful things without the fanfare.
Everything in the Hyem house was figureoutable.
Life was simple but earned. Things were appreciated. They were fixed instead of thrown out, and "on-trend" was not a doctrine they subscribed to.
Grandpa and Grandma picking chokecherries to make syrup.
As I answered that question in the interview, I looked around at my life and realized these ideals are quickly fading. We replace instead of repair, and we let an alogrithm tell us what's worth our time.
I am always making something. Jason knows there is random yarn, scraps, or paint around at any given time because I get so much joy out of trying and figuring things out. My best and most toxic trait is "I can make/build that." And I do think my grandparents had a lot to do with that.
As we raise our own kids and they watch their mom teach herself piano at 37, build a new light fixture, or make Halloween costumes, I hope they shake their little heads and think, "She has no idea what the hell she's doing. But she figures it out every time."
Everything is figureoutable.
That is why I like making and crafting and building and doing it myself. It's never really about the thing itself; it's about the process of learning how it works, figuring out how things fit together, and having a bit of collaboration with the physical world around me.
I was lucky enough to hear Kelly Corrigan speak earlier this week, and one thing she said cemented all of this for me. She said, in essence, that makers are inherently not victims of this world. They feel they can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct the world around them.
What a gift it is to walk through life knowing you can change things and make things, improve things and fix things, build things, and create things that don't exist yet.
And it all starts by trying, because everything is figureoutable.
I genuinely would love to hear what you're making. Maybe it's cooking or fixing an engine, sewing, or learning to play the piano. It could be tending your garden or writing a new book. It could be building a website for your passion project or creating community.
I applaud your courage in trying new things and figuring it out day by day, because that is what is going to make the world a more interesting, beautiful place.
When we take ownership of our humanity and take a pause from outsourcing our intelligence, creativity, and curiosity to algorithms and metrics, we have a beautiful opportunity to slow down, make for the sake of making and maybe... figure out a little more about the world and ourselves in the process.
Be Great,
Sam