My father was a factory worker, but in his heart a mechanic. He loved tools, motors ... gadgets of all kinds. The basement of our house was a place chocked full of tools. The garage was more about working on cars than a place to park them. My mother sewed professionally, and in a small house, the dining room was set up for her to make patterns and layout her work, so we often ate dinner elsewhere.  Should we need something and not have the means to purchase it, we figured out how to make it. When something broke, we fixed it. It was an environment of learning, experimenting, tinkering, making and to a large extent "designing." The foundation and desire to dream and the capacity to create was formed.