The Pens That Signed a Love Story: A Unique Wedding Gift from the Lathe

Some pens aren’t meant for desks or display cases. They’re meant for moments — the kind that last a lifetime. When I handed over the custom bride and groom pens I’d made for my son’s friends, I thought it would just be a small gesture — a maker’s way of saying congratulations. But as the bride held hers, a shimmer of green and white catching the light, and the groom turned his red-and-gray pen with a grin that could only belong to an Ohio State alum… I realized this wasn’t just a pair of pens. It was their story, written in material and memory.

Later that day, they used those pens to sign their marriage certificate — the official beginning of their life together. The bride’s mom cried. I stood there quietly, watching something I made become part of something no one could ever make again.

That’s when it hit me: a handmade pen isn’t just for writing. It’s for remembering.

The Origin Story

The idea started as a simple wedding gift. My son told me his friend was getting married, and somewhere between the congratulations and the casual “you should make them something,” the thought clicked. Not just any pens — their pens.

They met in college, one a proud Michigan State Spartan, the other a diehard Ohio State Buckeye. Rival schools, sure — but somehow it worked. I knew I wanted the pens to reflect that story: two different worlds, brought together.

For the bride, I sourced green and white plastic seats salvaged from the Michigan State stadium — material that had held a thousand cheers, a thousand stories. For the groom, red and white acrylic with a polished Ohio State emblem — bold, proud, and instantly recognizable.

The moment I started turning the blanks, I could feel the personality of each one. The green-and-white blank cut a little softer, almost fluid in the hand, while the red-and-white had a firmer edge, as if it knew exactly who it was. Side by side on the workbench, they looked like they were already made for each other.

What Made The Pens a Unique Wedding Gift

The materials gave each pen its spirit, but the finishing touches brought them to life.

The bride’s pen featured a medical-themed clip — a nod to her profession — delicate yet strong, like her. The groom’s had a clean, athletic feel that balanced hers perfectly. Together, they told a story of two people who could be different and still belong.

When I finished polishing them, the high-gloss surface almost looked like water — deep enough to catch reflections, soft enough to invite touch. I tested the ink flow one last time before boxing them up, and I’ll admit, I hesitated. Some projects take a piece of you with them when they leave the shop. This was one of those.

They weren’t just functional objects. They were tokens of a promise — meant to be held in the same hands that would hold each other for decades.

At the ceremony, I heard people whisper things like, “Those pens are amazing,” and “That’s such a thoughtful touch.” But my favorite moment came later when the bride’s mom, tears streaming, said, “I’ve never seen something so personal for a wedding.” That’s when I knew the pens had done what they were meant to do.

You’re Giving it Purpose.

A lot of people tell me, “I could never use a pen like that — it’s too nice.” I get it. We live in a world where most things are disposable, and beauty feels like something we’re supposed to protect, not participate in.

But I always tell them this: handmade things are meant to be used.

When you write with a handmade pen, you’re not risking it — you’re giving it purpose. The scratches, the ink marks, the fingerprints… they don’t ruin it. They record your story. These pens weren’t meant to sit in a box. They were meant to sign something that mattered.

If a bride and groom can use theirs to mark the start of a marriage, maybe we can all let ourselves write with something a little too beautiful once in a while.

Deepen with a Quote or Reflection

There’s a quote by the Japanese potter Shoji Hamada that I think about often:

“Beauty is not a luxury. It is the natural outcome of a life lived with care.”— Shoji Hamada

That idea — that beauty is a result of care — stays with me every time I step into the workshop. Because that’s what these pens were. Care, turned tangible.

When I was shaping those stadium seats into a pen barrel, I kept thinking about the contrast: something once meant for cheering fans, now transformed into something quiet and intimate. Every turn of the lathe stripped away a little history, but revealed a new kind of meaning.

That’s what I love about this craft. Every pen begins as raw material, but ends as something far more personal — a bridge between where it came from and where it’s going.

The bride and groom might never know the hours I spent aligning each stripe or the way I kept rechecking the fit of the clips until they sat just right. But that’s okay. True craftsmanship rarely announces itself. It just makes people feel something, even if they can’t explain why.

What’s Next

After the ceremony, I started getting messages asking if I’d make more bride and groom sets — some from Michigan and Ohio fans, others from couples who just loved the symbolism. I might revisit the idea soon, maybe using other stadium materials or new color combinations that tell different stories of connection and rivalry.

For now, I’m sketching out ideas for a “Rival Hearts” collection — pens that celebrate love stories born from opposites: different teams, different states, even different careers. Because sometimes the best harmony comes from contrast.

If you’d like to see what comes next, you can join my email list or follow along on social media — that’s where I share new designs, sneak peeks, and the stories behind each piece.

If you enjoyed this story, stick around — I share more behind-the-scenes moments, new pen drops, and the stories that shape them.

You can join my email list for heartfelt updates, browse the collection to see what’s on the bench now, or get in touch if you’d like something made just for you.

Because the best pens — like the best stories — are always personal.