A few weeks ago, my neighbor called me to let me know that the former owner of my house had died. I never actually met Bill, because he was moving into assisted living by the time his house was on the market, and his son handled the paperwork during the sale. But I think about him often as I work on my house, because his personality shines through in the work he did.
Like many people in my generation, I don't really build things to last. Sure, I've made furniture that I hope to own until I die, but when I repair a door or plant a bush, I unconsciously think I'm making something that will maybe make it ten or fifteen years. Bill, on the other hand, built things like he wanted them to be around in fifty years. And a lot of the time, they still are. I appreciate his handiwork when I admire my custom-made bathroom cabinet, or the scale drawings of every circuit in the house.
It can be harder to appreciate this engineering when I'm the one destroying his work. I am ripping out some beds that line by back garden to reseed with grass. These beds were probably once beautiful, but time (and tall trees) mean that they are now shady and grow far more weeds that edible crops. But of course, when Bill installed these, he didn't just line them with a few bricks, like I would do. He drove down a half-dozen metal rebar stakes in the the ground to firmly anchor the wood frame borders. This weekend I spent hours digging up holes around the rebar. I don't think I'll actually be able to remove them; even with a two-foot hole they are firmly entrenched, and I can't guess how long they are. Next weekend I'm going to try to saw them off below the soil line. "Try" is the operative word here. I'm not entirely sure whether I, and my recriprocating saw, are up to the task.
5 comments:
Reading one of these posts is so motivating. I am motivated to find even more people who can do this work for me.
Bill obviously loved his home and his garden.
Think of all the friends you have who would come to your aid if you needed help with the removal of the metal stakes, especially if they knew you would feed them.
I love that you feel this connection to this person. So many people long for immortality and he has managed in this way to live beyond his mortal shell's shelflife.
I,too, think of the man who built our house. I think he built it thinking he would enjoy it with his wife, children and even grandchildren. It had five bedrooms and an above ground pool. But, sadly, it was not to be. He got a divorce and lost it at a Sherrif's sale, because he could not make the payments. So, I think of him with sadness as to what could have been.
I'm jealous of your circuit diagrams - we finally got an electrician in to look at the circuit in the bathroom which isn't working, and he agreed with me that it's probably a burnt-out transformer - next question, where's the transformer? Nobody knows, not even the former owners who supposedly converted the bathroom in the first place. So until we find the transformer, nothing can get fixed - I could start knocking random holes in the wall, but for some reason I'm not keen on that...
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