#12 Ode to Cheerful Carpenters

“Another morning in Paradise!” Chris often says by way of good morning. He usually arrives five minutes early (right), at 6:55, sometimes still catching Cholo and me on Cholo’s walk up to the vista at the place we local locals call On Top of the World (left).

Mike is enjoying his shortest commute ever because I’m his closest neighbor; he lives down the hill from me. Mike always arrives still eating his breakfast since he doesn’t have a long enough commute to finish it, as on other jobs that are often miles away, so that puts him in a good mood.

Tom rolls in later, often with a load of supplies for the day’s projects. All of them amaze me with their perpetual good cheer.

But then I’m pretty happy too. Tom indicated it’s nice to work with and for someone who is pleasant; instead of complaining about the debris around the house, I enjoying pulling nails, shoveling gravel, moving piles of lumber, and generally cleaning up the mess. Altogether, we make for one pleasant group of people to work with. And that has become a lesson in itself: positivity breeds contentment.

Craftsmen at Work
I have ever more awe for the craft involved in the trades.

(Three stages of the addition: left Tom and Mike on the skeletal frame; center, Chris with the cool pneumatic nail gun; right, the complicated roof joists and shear plywood framing--ask me about "shear" sometime!)

Probably the most complex part of my renovation occurred this last week when the carpenters had to wed the roof of the addition to the cabin, while also extending the new roof to reach over to the roof of the outhouse. And all while maintaining an aesthetic quality and improving the soundness of the building, qualities that Tom insists on—and for which I am grateful.

Such discussions of measurements I overheard on that roof! The intricate attention to making the new redwood siding fit snuggly into the odd angles of the addition. Confabulatons over how to repair the funky roofing while blending in the new roofing. Multiple trips up and down the ladder to the shop in the driveway to cut out pieces that would fit precisely. And when something needed to be recut to get an extra 1/8 of an inch correct, never a display of frustration. I love these guys!

As much fun is the storytelling. The crew gets an official snack and lunchtime together. We pull out our goodies and, sitting in the sun or shade, more thoughtful discussion abounds: where we all came from; how each of them got into the carpentry trade; the way Native Americans, old lumber families, hippies and Mexicans have been treated in Willits over time; the meth epidemic and how it has ravaged some families here; laughing about tool “hoarding” in sheds crammed with the organized disorder of parts that will be put to use one day, one day; raising kids without television in the country versus in the busy life of a small town; the silliness of the royal wedding and the somber consequences of Osama’s assassination; the impact of the homebuilding market downturn; the value of green building. How rich to learn from them, to trade stories and laughter.

The crew rushed to get the special rubberized "tar paper" on Friday afternoon since it's going to rain this weekend, meaning they all had to work late. After their outdoor shop was put away, tool by tool in Tom's traveling tool van, and we'd covered up all the lumber with tarps, it was five p.m., and I expected them to dash home. But the three men stood for a few minutes, looking upon their work, the new room they had created. They even plotted what was next. Earlier in the day in talking about his attraction to carpentry, Tom had said that he likes to make things, his hands gesturing to show the significance of substance. Indeed, he makes things and beautifully, too.

Apprenticeship on the Job
Meanwhile, I am upgrading my own skills little by little. The wonderful Willits Independent Film Series brought Company Men to town a few weeks ago, a film about elite executives who lose their jobs in the recession. One executive, played by Ben Affleck, has to eat humble pie and take a job with his contractor brother-in-law. I’ve been relating to that role in recent weeks. Affleck starts out with brand new work boots and a tool belt; his new boss tells him to leave the tool belt in the car since he won’t need it. Instead, with status as laborer, he is hauling lumber and mixing concrete.

I've been doing the same, putting myself on Detritus Duty. But with most of the demolition (thankfully) done, I have moved up to duty on the Chop Saw, where I saw through the longer pieces of wrecked lumber (rotten boards torn down from my structure or pieces cut off from the reconstruction, useless for further construction but too long for the woodstove). Chris is a good teacher; he told me how to use the impressive saw, and then, surely reading a flicker of doubt in my mind, he reinforced, “You can do it!” Sometimes we just need to hear that from one who knows.

Of course, I was also regaled with stories of mishaps on such machines; one experienced carpenter sawed through the tip of his finger and another guy cut off his hand (the story gets gorier, but I’ll spare you unless you ask for the rest of it). Mike’s good advice was, “Just imagine what is the worst thing that could happen, and act to prevent it.”

Practicing Gratitude

With rain coming this weekend, the couch was moved back into the cabin, allowing me to sleep there (instead of in the unheated shed, pictured right) and take benefit from the woodstove. Sleeping in the shed at night I've had to put Cholo on the bed with me in to keep us both warm--a privilege for the old man who has never before been allowed on beds. However, at 40 degrees, we are both shivering without one another's bulk. Though there is only tar paper on some of the cabin walls, the stove’s heat is infinitely better there than in the unheated shed.

Life without indoor plumbing is getting slightly wearisome, but I have my outdoor sink (picture above--the whole cabinet taken out of the cabin); no running water there either, but it's a better height for doing dishes and dunking one's head in the bucket. I continue to feel grateful for such small gifts.

And waking up in paradise makes it all worthwhile.