This free Dremel came to me from the DIY Network, and it has a small role in the story of how my life took a turn toward home projects and renovation.
The tool arrived as swag during a summer internship back in 2003, long before my current no-free-swag policy existed. It predates this blog, my first house, and even my relationship (we didn’t meet until 2004). At the time I was a college senior living in an apartment, working as a Television Media Buying Intern in New York City. In advertising terms that meant I helped with negotiating commercial placement and pricing on TV networks. The job involved lots of meetings with network reps, and my supervisors often came home with promotional items, event tickets, and the odd branded giveaway.
On the last day of that internship—coincidentally the day before a big citywide blackout—I posed for a photo in the lobby of our office building, hugging a giant bubblegum machine like the responsible adult I clearly was. Our office occupied the toy company set from the movie Big, which made the workplace feel a little playful. My team gave me some of their leftover swag: a copy of E.T. on DVD, a History Channel beach towel, tickets to a concert taping, and, curiously, a Dremel from the DIY Network. I must have looked like someone who could use a power tool—or at least that’s what they assumed.
I honestly had no idea what to do with it. The Dremel box showed a picture of people doing detailed carving and small woodworking, and as a college kid with plans to pursue a city advertising career, I figured it had no place in my life. I had never been into tools, and DIY projects weren’t on my radar. So like many non-tool-using sons, I regifted it to my dad.
Years later, during a move purge, my dad handed the Dremel back to me. I accepted it with a smile. By then I already owned a more modern rotary tool I’d received as a Father’s Day present, but this older model felt like a small relic of that early career chapter—a tangible reminder of how unpredictable life can be. The Dremel represented a path I hadn’t planned for: an object of whimsy that mirrored the strange way small choices and unexpected gifts can ripple into new directions.
It’s tempting to read meaning into the past. That free Dremel, the E.T. DVD, and the History Channel towel could be dismissed as random swag, yet they now feel like signposts pointing to a future where DIY projects, tools, and home improvement would become central to my life. The internship led to a full-time job, which introduced me to colleagues, one of whom was a copywriter named Sherry—events that eventually shaped the rest of my story. Even if the Dremel itself didn’t cause my interest in DIY, it’s a funny emblem of how things come full circle.
Have you ever regifted a tool only to see it return to you later? Or received an odd promotional item that later felt symbolic of your path? Maybe you’ve hugged a giant gumball machine in a lobby, or lounged on a branded beach towel and laughed about it years later. Small, seemingly insignificant things sometimes become memorable markers in our lives, and this little Dremel is one of mine.
Today, the Dremel sits alongside more modern tools, a reminder of that summer internship, a youthful photo in a toy-company lobby, and the early steps on a winding road to DIY, home projects, and unexpected careers. It’s an amusing, modest artifact of an earlier self—and proof that you never know which little moments or giveaways will matter down the line.
Psst—those old photos show me looking sun-kissed from summer days past. Since then, life shifted into suburban parenting and a lot less gumball-machine hugging. But the nostalgia remains.