I built a new cabinet for my daughter's bathroom a few weeks ago. It is a simple brown box with European hinges and an inset door painted blue to match the color scheme of her powder room. It was a fun project that taught me as much about family as it did about woodworking. First I listened to my daughter, then I listened to the cabinet.

Before building the box I asked my daughter what she wanted in a cabinet. She asked that it be simple, with clean lines — more modern than traditional. It should be tall enough for her hand lotion, wide enough for the hair dryer, yet small enough to fit above the toilet. The rest she said was up to me. Within an hour I had a plan that included measurements, diagrams and a cut list. I reviewed the plan with my daughter, who gave it her official seal of approval. It was a fit.

By day's end, the carcass was finished with only the door left to be built. When it comes to cabinet making, I have only two rules: it must be necessary and it must be useful. In this case, I needed the cabinets more than my daughter did — they would serve as a dry run for the new entertainment center I hope to build later this summer — but I knew for sure my daughter would put it to good use.

When it came time to fit the door to the cabinet I used an old carpenter's trick. Most have heard the saying measure twice and cut once. This ode to the tape measure is important, but all too often I find that despite my best efforts, I miss my mark. After years of errors I now use the tape measure only for initial dimensions and a story stick for final fitting.

The story stick is so simple to use that even someone as simple-minded as me can't mess it up. First you find a straight piece of scrap lumber; then you line up the stick with the project (in my case, my daughter's bathroom cabinet). Instead of measuring the opening where the door would fit, I simply marked my story stick and then transferred the marks from the stick to my lumber. Because I took the information directly from her cabinet, I knew it was spot on; whereas if I had used my tape measure, there was a chance that my figures would have been off.

I have spent most of my adult life listening to folks tell stories of trying to measure up to standards set by some sitcom family, marketing agent, or rich aunt and uncle living high on the hill as well as the hog. But every family is different and there is no single measure for success. Like every other family, ours is unique, though some may think us weird; that's OK. We don't necessarily measure up, but we fit together well and it all starts with a story, decent listening skills, and sometimes a stick.

Michael C. DeMattos is on faculty at the University of Hawai'i, Myron B. Thompson School of Social Work. Born and raised on the Wai'anae Coast, he now lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter, two dogs, two mice and 1,000 worms.