Callender Printing

01/02/2026

10/22/2025

This means a lot to me:

My name’s Tommy. I’m 67.
I spent over forty years crawling through attics, basements, and half-built homes — running wires, fixing circuits, and making sure the lights came on when people flipped the switch.

I never wore a tie to work. My uniform was steel-toe boots and a tool belt.
And you know what? I was proud of that.

Last spring, my grandson asked me to speak at his school’s “Career Morning.”
There were doctors, software engineers, and one fella who said he “worked in fintech” — whatever that means. I was the only one who brought a voltage tester instead of a PowerPoint.

When it was my turn, I told the kids,
“I didn’t go to college. I went to work.
When storms hit and power lines fall, I’m the guy who helps bring your heat back, your lights back, your normal back.”

They all leaned in a little closer.
One kid raised his hand and said, “So… you fix stuff when everyone else is scared to touch it?”
I grinned. “Pretty much.”

Afterward, a quiet boy came up to me.
He said, “My dad’s a mechanic. He gets dirty every day. People tease him for it.”
I looked him straight in the eye and said,
“Son, the world stops without people like your dad. When your car breaks down, no one’s calling an accountant. They’re calling him.”

Here’s the truth I’ve learned after a lifetime of hard work:

The world runs on skilled hands.
It runs on the people who get up early, stay late, and solve the problems no one else sees.

You can build all the apps you want, but when the furnace dies in January — it’s not a diploma that saves you. It’s the person who shows up with a wrench, a flashlight, and the know-how to make it work again.

We’ve spent too long treating trade work like a backup plan, when really, it’s the foundation everything else stands on.

A few weeks later, my grandson’s teacher emailed me. She said,
“That shy boy you spoke to? He’s joining a trade program next year. He said you made him proud of what his dad does.”

And that right there — that made every sore back and late night worth it.

💡 Here’s what I know now:

Not everyone needs a corner office to make a difference.
Some of us build the rooms those offices sit in.

So the next time you ask a kid what they want to be, don’t just ask, “What college are you going to?”
Ask, “What do you want to build? What do you want to fix? What do you want to make work again?”

Because this world will always need more people who can keep the lights on — in every sense of the word.

⚡ Respect the trades. Teach the pride. Celebrate the work that keeps us all going.

01/06/2025

We will be closed Monday 06 January. Don’t want to chance anyone getting hurt on the roads.

09/03/2024

Whatever you do don't let go
It's time to be a cowboy don't you know
If we get through this we've got it whipped
There'll be better days down the road
So whatever you do
Don't let go!!!!

07/21/2024

Curious visitors this morning.

07/20/2024

This is good. I'll never look at my hands the same!

Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat, I wondered if he was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.

He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?" I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.

They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.

Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.

They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.

And to this day, when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again
continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.

And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ." I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandpa's hands and led him home.

When my hands are hurt or sore I think of Grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

When you receive this, say a prayer for the person who sent it to you and watch God's answer to prayer work in your life.
Let's continue praying for one another
Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both. Passing this on to one not considered a friend is
something Christ would have done.

12/12/2023

Up and running!! Callie likes it and says “come see me”

12/07/2023

It has arrived!!! New machine, install next week. Things are happening here!! Stay tuned, we are excited for the addition.