The Walls We Build

Words: Kent Huntley

As masons, we spend our careers building walls. We build them with brick, block, stone, and mortar, and we take pride in making them straight, strong, and built to last. But over the years, I’ve learned there is another kind of wall we build—the walls we build in our own minds. Those walls can be much harder to tear down, a lesson I learned many years ago.

In 1996, word spread through the masonry industry that Sammy Wingfield had set a bricklaying record by laying approximately 1,000 bricks in an hour. When several of us heard about it, our reaction was immediate. There was no way; it couldn’t be done. At least not by us. The funny thing is, none of us had actually tried. We had already decided what we couldn’t do before we ever picked up a trowel.

My dad and uncles looked at it differently. Instead of accepting that it was impossible, they challenged us to find out for ourselves. We started laying brick for short periods of time and measuring our production. First 15 minutes, then 30 minutes, then longer. Something interesting happened: the more we practiced, the more the impossible started looking possible. What had seemed completely out of reach began to look achievable.

Eventually, several of us traveled to Dallas, Texas, to compete. My cousin, Travis McGee, set the world record by laying 1,494 bricks in an hour. My cousin, Russell Huntley, finished second, and I finished third with 1,403 bricks. What started as a challenge turned into one of the most important lessons of my life. Sometimes we place a limiting factor on ourselves before even trying.

My dad used to tell us all the time, “Can’t never could.” What he meant was simple: if you decide you can’t do something, chances are you never will. Henry Ford put it another way: “Whether you think you can, or think you can’t—you’re right.” The lesson wasn’t really about bricklaying. The lesson was about potential. We had built a wall in our minds long before we ever stepped onto the competition floor.

My dad and uncles saw something in us long before we saw it in ourselves. I think that’s one of the greatest gifts you can give a young person. Sometimes all they need is somebody who believes they can do a little more than they think they can. That lesson has stayed with me for nearly 30 years.

Over the course of my career, I’ve seen the same thing happen over and over again. I’ve seen contractors convince themselves they could never take on a larger project, hire another crew, open a second office, or grow beyond where they are today. I’ve seen people decide they could never become foremen, project managers, estimators, or business owners. I’ve seen young people underestimate what they were capable of accomplishing. And if I’m being honest, I’ve probably done the same thing myself more times than I care to admit.

Most of the time, the obstacle isn’t ability; it’s belief. Somewhere along the way, we build a wall in our minds and decide that’s as far as we can go. The older I get, the more I appreciate the people who challenged those limits for me. They didn’t allow us to decide what was impossible before we had ever tried. They pushed us, challenged us, and expected more from us than we expected from ourselves. At the time, I wasn’t always sure I appreciated it. Today, I’m grateful for it.

I think one of the greatest gifts we can give another person is helping them see possibilities they don’t yet see for themselves. Sometimes that means encouragement, patience, or challenging them to do something they don’t think they can do. The people who have the greatest impact on our lives are often the ones who refuse to let us settle for the limits we’ve placed on ourselves. As leaders, parents, business owners, and craftsmen, we all have opportunities to do that for others. We can help people build confidence, develop skills, and see potential they may not recognize in themselves. Sometimes all it takes is one person willing to say, “I think you can do more.”

Looking back, that’s exactly what my dad and uncles did for us. The bricklaying record isn’t the only achievement I remember from this; the real lesson was learning that many of the limits we accept are self-imposed. My dad had a simple way of saying it: “Can’t never could.” Nearly 30 years later, I still think he was right. Sometimes the biggest walls we face aren’t the ones standing in front of us. They’re the ones we’ve built in our own minds, and once those walls come down, it’s amazing what becomes possible.

The Walls We Build

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