I’ve been around construction since I could walk.

Smego Construction wasn’t actually the plan.

Funny enough, after all those years around construction, I wasn’t trying to start a construction company.

I’d owned businesses before. At that point in my life I wasn’t looking for another one. I was focused on my marriage, on being a father, and on my faith.

Then a friend of a friend called. They wanted to convert the back of their house into an Airbnb and had heard that I had construction experience.

So I took the project.

And at some point I looked around and realized I had a construction company.

I don’t think that was an accident. I didn’t build this — it was handed to me. What I’ve done since is try to be a good steward of it.

It started out of a 2008 sedan.

My wife and I shared one car when I started the company. A 2008 sedan. That was also the company truck.

I’d drive around with tools stuffed in the trunk and back seat, a car seat in there with them, and 2x4s sticking out the window when I needed lumber.

The projects got bigger. The sedan eventually became trucks. Small jobs became larger renovations. I went from doing nearly everything myself to managing employees, subcontractors and entire projects.

The company grew up along the way.

I’ve seen houses from both sides of the wall.

My job today looks very different from what it did back then, but I’ve actually done the work.

I’ve framed walls, run equipment, installed trim, remodeled kitchens and bathrooms, worked around foundations and underground utilities, and opened enough old houses to see just about every generation of residential construction.

I’ve also worked in new construction, where everything starts with dirt and a set of plans.

That combination has taught me a lot.

Remodeling, especially, teaches you how houses fail.

Eventually, you recognize the patterns. And you realize that some of the most important parts of a house are the things nobody will ever notice during a walkthrough.

That’s why so much of what we write about here is the part you can’t see — the wiring, the plumbing, the contingency an honest estimate carries.

We’ve also spent years being called in to fix somebody else’s work. It’s honest money and it taught me more than any classroom could. It’s also why we build whole houses — because by the time we’re repairing one, somebody has already decided how good it was going to be.

I live in the things I build.

We bought a distressed 900-square-foot house in Shamokin Dam that had been sitting vacant for years. At the time, we didn’t know whether we’d flip it, rent it or keep it.

We decided to make the things behind the walls right anyway. New electrical. New plumbing. A rebuilt interior, another bedroom, a deck, and eventually the whole property.

Then we decided to stay. My family lives there now.

There’s something different about putting your kids to bed inside walls you built. I know what’s behind that drywall, because I’m the one who put it there — and I live with every decision that got made during construction.

The whole story of that house →

My job today is to see the whole project.

As the company grew, I figured out where I’m most useful.

It isn’t trying to personally be the best electrician, plumber, mason, framer and tile setter on every project.

I want great electricians doing electrical work. Great plumbers doing plumbing. Great framers framing.

I spend my time planning, designing, coordinating, solving problems and making decisions. I’m thinking about the site, the layout, the budget, the structure, the trades, the schedule and how all of those pieces are going to come together before somebody starts cutting.

That’s true whether we’re building a new home, putting on an addition or rebuilding an existing one.

My name is on it.

There’s a reason I like having my name on the company.

It keeps things personal. If we do something great, my name is attached to it. If something goes wrong, my name is attached to that too.

Construction doesn’t always go perfectly. What matters is how you plan, how you communicate, what you do when something unexpected happens, and what you’re willing to put your name on when it’s finished.

Build things you’d be comfortable living in yourself.