About
Bob Sponsler, Woodturner

I spent a significant part of my career as a trauma nurse at a Level 1 Trauma Center in Philadelphia. The work was intensely stressful, but it gave me a profound sense of purpose. I was proud to make a difference in people’s lives and to work alongside some truly remarkable individuals. Eventually, I decided to step away from nursing to focus on raising our children with the intention of returning to work after a year or two.

Then, life took an unexpected turn. A few months into my domestic journey, COVID swept across the globe, and shortly after, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. In those early weeks, I was certain my time was running out. One of the most heartbreaking realizations was the thought that I might leave this world without leaving behind something tangible—something that said, "I was here." I hadn’t amassed great wealth, written anything profound, or built anything enduring. The impact I made as a nurse, while meaningful, felt fleeting, and I doubt any of my patients would remember me or the care I provided.

But as it turned out, I survived. After surgery and six months of chemotherapy, the cancer was gone, though it left me with neuropathy in my hands and feet. Activities I once loved, like working on my computer, using my 3D printer, and playing guitar—became painful. I found myself sinking into depression, desperate for something meaningful, lasting, and creative to fill the void.

At my wife Kate’s encouragement, I joined a shared workspace in Philadelphia and began experimenting with woodworking. For reasons I can’t fully explain, working with wood felt soothing to my hands. I took an introductory class on using a wood lathe and was instantly captivated by the craft.

At first, most of my bowls were small, as it was difficult to find wood thick enough for larger pieces. Then, in the spring of 2025, I discovered the magic of "green" wood (freshly cut, still-wet wood). A family friend was removing a massive old black walnut tree and asked if I could use any of it. That moment was a revelation. From a single branch, I crafted four little bowls, two of which I gave back to the tree’s owners—a gesture that brought me immense joy.

Since then, I’ve sourced wood from other fallen trees in the surrounding neighborhood, turning what might have been discarded into something beautiful and enduring; finding purpose and fulfillment in this mesmerizing craft.