#132 - Some words about my dad - October 13, 2012

Saturday.

Today I just want to write some things about my dad. 

When my dad was 37, the year was 1978.  He had 3 little kids, and he and my mom were doing the young-married “let’s move a lot” thing.  The next year, they bought a house at 24680 S Barlow Rd, Canby Oregon 97013.  This address is how I learned to count by 2s when I was 4 or 5.  The house was a one-room, but I remember it being a studio when we moved in.  You walked up the steps to the front door, and when you opened the door, there was a low table with a little TV.  Looking straight ahead, there was a couch facing the TV, and then my parents’ bed.  Step in a couple feet and turn left, and that was the kitchen.  Turn left a little more and you could see the bathroom door, and the stairs that led to the attic that my brother and I slept in.  I don’t remember where my sister slept in those early years.

I loved that house.  It did not bother me that it was small, because, of course, I did not know different.  It was my house, and that was enough.  As soon as we moved in, my dad went to work on it.  I was seldom asked to help, as I recall.  I was 4 when we moved in, and 7 I think by the time the major work was done.  In the meantime, I watched my father frame walls, put in plumbing, put on siding, roofing, split wood, add wiring, texture ceilings, wallpaper, paint.  My mom did a lot of this, too, but the building part belonged to my dad.  When we sold that house, it was a 5-bedroom, 2-bath home with a large kitchen, living room, family room, 2 covered porches, and a truly massive 2-car garage. 

I was aware that it was a big job.  Dad spent all of his non-work time building it.  What I did not realize was how crazy it was to take on such a huge project all by himself. 

We moved to another home in 1986, a 1917 Victorian that could have been listed on Canby’s list of historic places if we hadn’t ripped the whole thing apart and reconfigured all of it.  I watched this project as a teenager.  Again, dad took the lead and didn’t ask for much help.  I helped put up a layer of insulation outside the house, and put up the blue vinyl siding that was all the rage at the time.  I helped clean up lathe and plaster walls that dad had taken down.  I helped carry a huge cast iron clawfoot tub down a flight of stairs and out to the driveway.   But I didn’t do much.  Not in comparison to my father.

But I learned a lot by watching my father.  I learned, most importantly, to never be afraid of the size of the task before me or its complexity.  We have never had this conversation.  He never sat me down and said, “Son, never be afraid of any task’s size or complexity.”  My did simply saw a 1917 house, and remodeled all 3 floors of it as a matter of course.  Don’t like the main floor?  We’ll rip out every single wall on the main floor, replumb and reconfigure the entire thing.  Lots of work?  Sure!  Big deal?  Nope. 

While I was serving a mission in Japan, my father took on another remodel job.  This one included jacking up an entire house, pouring a foundation under it, and setting the house back down.  Among a few other little odds and ends.

My father just lived his life that way.  Still does.  I have never heard him say that something was beyond my ability.  I have heard him speak of his own limitations, but there aren’t many of them. 

While we lived in Beaverton, I got to work with my dad on quite a few projects.  We converted a garden shed into a powered, insulated office.  We replumbed under my house to convert from cast iron to PVC piping, and separated the drain lines so the kitchen and washer drained separately and we wouldn’t have leaks in the laundry room any more.  We embarked on an aborted attempt to reconfigure my house so it would be better for the kids.  We roofed his new house together. 

Through all of this, I’ve learned some common sense about building.  Measure twice, cut once.  Perpendicularity is important.  Non-load bearing walls leave a lot of flexibility for configuration.  Check level and alignment a few times.  Then screw it in when you’re sure.  Some trim will hide almost anything.   Basic electrician’s work consists of matching the black wire to the black wire, and not a whole lot else.  Be careful in everything you do – the big project is not a risk, but not doing the job right is a risk.

The past 9 days have seen me permanently install a wall air conditioner above the freezer in our new pantry, frame a door in that pantry, and finish the other framing in the room.  It saw me buy a chain saw, read the manual, start it up and fell a tree in the woods around my house.  They saw me assign bringing in firewood as a chore to my son, take apart the filter unit for the pool to store it for winter, and build fires to keep my heating costs down. 

A teacher who has taught a child to read can be given credit for the words the child can read.  When the child is in med school, learning things the teacher will never know, the teacher still deserves the credit for giving that child the tools she needed to get through med school.

My father taught me to build in much the same way.  I know what’s important, what can wait, what I need to have a pro come and do.  And I know, because of what my dad taught me, that I can do this man thing ok.   I can chop wood, start a fire in my fireplace, add a pantry to my house, replace doors, saw up trees, play ping-pong, read a book my kid recommends, and laugh a lot. 

I love my father.  I have a ton of respect for him.  And he has made my life as a man more complete, and enabled me to do the same for my kids.  Thanks for not handicapping me, dad.  I needed to know all of this stuff.  It’s important.