Three years ago, if you told me that I would be posting a photo of Lance Corporal David Wing on top of a pile of debris left over from a shop fire at the company I started, I would have said you’re probably right.

And almost to date, there he is, a victorious weed staked by his side, our Greensaw Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima. Someone lit a fire at the back of the shop when the Phillies won the pennant (good thing they didn't win the World Series), hot enough to melt a truck box. We juiced up the pressure washer, cleaned it up, and got a good pic. It all makes perfect sense. I can’t tell you why, or how, but it somehow does.

Yet when it comes to describing the exact trajectory of this company, I hesitate. I’ve had to, in these last couple weeks, as we prepare to hire help in the office. Applicants ask: how did you guys get to where you are now? Tell me a bit about your company? When I think about it, I don’t think we’ve had too much of a chance to sit back and consider the answers.

We had to the other day. Mind TV came by to film our work in the shop, and conduct interviews. Unlike every other experience with the media I’ve had, things weren’t off the cuff. Rather, the producers arrived with a cogent list of thoughtful questions. They switched on the lights, set up a chair, and we were suddenly on the Barbara Walters' show.

I didn’t hear all the answers – I wish I did – but my sense is that the guys and girls who sat through the interview made more sense than I did. That is to say, they have a greater sense of how we got to where we are now. Ask me, and I’ll say something about how we've built ourselves up using the logic of a meritocracy, bringing on individuals with varying skills ranging from squirrel whisperer to sculptor to gymnast (Dave). By the same token, despite what are P&L looks like, we are a for-profit organization, and we like folks who git er done. So -- my upshot is we're built out of men and women who kicks ass, are visionaries, and make a buck or two.

While it's these greater questions I obviously need to struggle with, instead I worry about dogs in the office. Lately we've been kicking the GDDs as Brenda and I call them (God Damn Dogs) out when clients visit. On the one hand they’re great to have around, adding a touch of warmth to what would otherwise be a decadent jail cell with acoustical tile ceiling minus the toilet which is half a click away. On the other hand they’re relentless when it comes to getting pets. And they could care less whether someone wears pressed black slacks or not. (There they are below, unhappy to be given the boot, despite the march sun.)

I left my previous job as a timber framer at Bensonwood when a company-wide email was sent out forbidding dogs at all future company events. Apparently, an older woman had tripped over either my dog or a buddy’s -- we were both eager to take credit although we didn't truly know. In my humble view, Bensonwood’s profound community-based roots, sewn over 35 years of beer-infused silliness coupled with some serious hard driving, with its dual appreciation of wackiness and wickedness, was being obscured by a production-line mentality. Also, they just stopped letting dogs come to parties, which sucked. Yet compromises are called for.

I had a girlfriend from Newport Oregon. Her father, who I think about and adore more and more each day that passes, was a great fan of Rogue beer. We would go to the family campsite on Milepost 19 on the Alsea River and drink Rogue 22-ouncers from morn until morn, passing out beneath the stars or in the RVs. “Red beers in the morning!” was his rallying cry. This meant a Rogue mixed with tomato juice.

She would tell me about a black lab, the master brewer's best friend at Rogue. He even appeared on a beer bottle. Lately, I can’t go anywhere on the East Coast without seeing a Rogue beer. I wonder how they have been negotiating their success. The distillery must have been modernized from the one I saw beneath the bridge as we crossed out of Newport. Do dogs still wander among the beer casks? How have the folks in charge adjusted their hiring processes? Are dogs allowed in the offices? Do the offices have windows?

In the interview for Mind TV, we each provided different answers to just about every question asked, save for one. What is a typical Greensaw job? There ain’t one. It just doesn’t exist. We do things very traditionally, showing great respect for the old-timers, for people and community. And yet each job differs from the first, due to the highly variable quality of salvage and recycled material. Not to mention the highly variable quality of each individual in the company, and the highly variable quality of our esteemed clients, despite our best efforts to screen.

All to say that when it comes to determining the road forward, it helps to be able to understand the past. Reflecting, I can only think of the hijinks involved, despite Malcolm Gladwell's assertion that entrepreneurs are really conservative -- which in my mind misses the forest for the trees. Dave triumphant on a pile of smoldering debris gives some clue to what brings us through the smoke: humor and hard work. This is what stands out. And we feel both qualities deserve a certain amount of leeway when it comes to lifestyle -- meaning dogs should not be kicked out of the office.

We're all good people who need cities but crave the outdoors. Who want to work, but not compromise who we are. We're hard drivers with a certain amount of whimsy, and a large amount of curmudgeonliness that comes out when things don't work as we hope. We take things so personally -- it's our greatest strength, and our greatest weakness. At bottom, we want to build this company from individuals who won't let go of the rope when it starts to burn, and who still like Popsicles.

It's the last part that keeps me up at night.