A New Era Taking Root: Reflections From HPBExpo 2026

There was something in the air heading into HPBExpo 2026. Not just the usual buzz of an industry gathering, but something deeper—the kind of energy that signals a turning point. After a change in leadership a few years back, the roots are finally taking hold, and this year’s Expo made that undeniably clear.

As the start date approached, there was speculation that attendance might be low. The show was held back-to-back in New Orleans, and many industry leaders had been watching the direction the economy was headed. Needless to say, there was concern about low attendance. However, what this new leadership has quietly been building isn’t just measured in head counts. It’s measured in something far more valuable: engagement. Genuine, intentional human engagement.

From the opening panel to the affiliate receptions, from a standing-room-only karaoke bar to the first “hopefully” annual log-splitting contest, the 2026 Expo created an atmosphere where unique individuals from all facets of our industry could come together and experience fellowship in our true authenticity.

This wasn’t a quiet show.

It was a statement. To me—a unifying statement.

Choosing Change, Even When It’s Hard

Let’s be clear: This shift in leadership has not come without friction. Our industry has long worn its self-reliance like a badge of honor. Why do we need an association? What’s it going to do for me? These are real questions asked by real people who built real businesses with their own two hands, and they deserve a real answer.

The truth is, no industry earns its legitimacy without structure. Without advocacy. Without a unified voice that says, “We’re professionals, and we expect to be treated as such.” The hearth and chimney industry is no different. If we want a seat at the table, we have to act like we belong there. That means safety standards. That means uniformity. That means showing up—not just for ourselves, but for the next generation coming up behind us.

That is what this new leadership is building. Not just a stronger association, but stronger people. Through solid apprenticeships, advocacy, and mentorship, they’re developing professionals who won’t just excel in this industry—they’ll carry those skills into every corner of their lives.

They’re good humans building good humans.

The Log-Splitting Contest—and What It Really Meant

I have to be honest: I don’t usually make it out to the outdoor burn area. By the time the show winds down inside, I’m running on fumes. But this year was different. The afternoon timing, the activities, the energy of a crowd that genuinely wanted to be there—it worked.

A few weeks before the show, I came across a post on Facebook: Captain America, splitting logs with the caption “Sign up Now, spots are limited.” I thought, I can do that. I’ve been splitting wood my whole life.

Then, like most of us do, I talked myself out of it. Then back into it—with a nudge from my wife, who didn’t hesitate for a second. “Hell yeah, you can hang with them,” she said. “You should sign up.” So I did. Besides, Tim Reed signed up—so how hard could it be!

At the end of the registration form, there was a line asking who I was splitting for. I wrote: “for the women of the industry.” It felt right.

I prepared myself physically and mentally for the challenge. I knew I didn’t want to disappoint my fellow ladies in the industry, so I faithfully recited Stuart Smalley’s “I am good enough, I am smart enough, and doggone it, people like me” mantra—then busted out my late father’s pearl-snap denim Wrangler shirt and got to splitting!

In my honest opinion, that contest—more than anything else at the Expo—captured exactly where this industry is headed. Out there on that street, it didn’t matter what your last name was, how long you’d been in the business, or whether you were male or female. We were equal. Side by side, putting in the work. Masculine and feminine energy, collaborating and trusting one another. That dynamic doesn’t weaken an industry. When we rise to the occasion, it fortifies it.

Awards, Encounters, and a Borrowed Fedora

I’d been channeling my late father’s and father-in-law’s “dad” energy all week, so when we arrived on traveling day, I donned a sweet vintage fedora and a denim pearl snap and strolled the town. My father always encouraged me to follow my dreams. He never gave me the impression that my gender could be a limitation in life. My father-in-law was a serial entrepreneur with sophisticated style, who happened to have the same size head as I do. He landed as an independent sales rep for a neighboring industry. Both were so very instrumental in teaching me the appropriate lessons I needed to learn to grow. We’re blessed to have so many of these “father figures” in our industry. There are many who stop and take the time to share knowledge with those of us rising in their wake. Sharing insight from leadership to fishing and everything in between. I felt “dad” energy during the entire show, and for me, it was what my soul needed.

Around 4:15, I made my way back to the Expo floor and stopped by the AES booth to visit with the Newby family before the evening’s ceremony. I’ve always appreciated Craig and Kirk. They don’t know this, but I see them as father figures, and I’m always enlightened after a visit with them. At about 4:30, Ray Bonar and his son Dan—the “Log Father” himself—walked in.

What followed was one of those conversations you don’t plan, you can’t manufacture, and you surely won’t forget. Ray Bonar introduced himself to me, and we talked—really talked. We chatted about my participation in the log-splitting contest, about wood splitting as a childhood pastime, about distributors, about the intentional path he laid out for Dan to earn his place at ICC. The conversation drifted to shotguns, bird hunting, and his genuine love for cooking and entertaining. If you’re ever invited to ICC, a colleague once told me, you accept.

What struck me most in that moment—standing there with them—wasn’t the conversation itself. It was what it represented. Leadership flows from the top. The culture of any organization or industry is a reflection of the people setting the tone. These men carry that weight with grace. They’re passing age-old lessons down to their successors, and they’re doing it deliberately. For the women in this industry who have wondered if they belong in those circles—they do. We do.

We all made our way to the awards ceremony. Say what you will, but it was an efficiently run ceremony. There was a little talking and some handing out of awards, and then it was off to the party. The newly added karaoke event was a hit. It was shoulder-to-shoulder and filled with members from all facets of the industry, belting out nostalgic tunes after an eventful week. It was the closure we needed to keep the momentum moving forward.

The Foundation Is Being Fortified—Give It Time

I entered this industry in 2001. I obtained my first certification at a local distributor’s expo in 2006 and immediately embraced the importance of education. I’ve always believed in training. In standards. In doing things right.

I’ve heard from many colleagues about how hard it’s been—where this industry came from, where it is now, and where it’s going. Are we unified? Are we imploding?

I think we’re reconstructing.

Here’s where I land, from the perspective of a technician turned humbled small-business owner: Homeowners remodel roughly every 20 years. The structure still stands, but the interior needs refreshing. That’s where our industry is right now—in the middle of a remodel. It’s disruptive. Some surfaces have to come down before new ones can go up. Not everyone loves the process, and that’s fair.

The veterans of our industry built it through newspaper ads and bold ideas—from heating stoves to 20-foot-long fireplaces with vertical flames. Their innovation created a lasting industry, and now it’s time for the next generation to build on that foundation.

An everlasting structure takes time. The new leadership of this association understands that. The work they’re doing—building informed advocates, developing skilled professionals, creating spaces where a log-splitting contest can feel like a movement—isn’t fast work. It’s foundational work. And foundations, by design, are meant to hold.

Attendance may have been lighter this year. But what was in the air—the conversations, the connections, the karaoke, the crosswalk moments—that was something else entirely.

Let’s build this thing right.