The project in Temple It’s 8 PM on Sunday night and I have nothing in mind to write for this blog, “Helping Fathers to be Dads”. I have a self-imposed requirement to write something every week to be published on Mondays (usually) - and that’s tomorrow! The Oscars are on but they are no longer fun to watch. Too many pretentious people, too much self-congratulation, and too many political comments from people whose opinions don’t matter to me. Wrong place, wrong time. With some time now, this will be a stream-of-consciousness article. Here goes!
My writing has been on the back-burner because I’ve been busy all week helping my son rehab a rundown pier-and-beam 900 square foot house in Temple, Texas. The Army stationed him in Ft. Hood and his workstation is in a satellite area near that central Texas town. My brother Bob graciously took a weeks’ vacation to help - he being the one with the expertise to take on such a job. After a 12-hour drive with many delays on a hellish I-35, we started the next morning working 9 to 11 hours a day for seven days. We had to replace the central-weight-bearing wall, install seven new windows (with 10 more to go), rewire the electrical system, take down drywall, repair structural damage, re-drywall, repair a major plumbing leak, level the floors, etc.
We knew of some of the issues with this house, but so many other things were in terrible shape! Obviously, the inspector, owner, and real estate agent were less than honest and possibly in collusion. That being behind us, I believe this house will be the nicest in the neighborhood when complete, which is now in the hands of my son, alone. Usually, being the nicest house in a neighborhood is not the best situation for getting your money back, but its necessary and Mike will be living there for almost four years. Mike is learning a lot, as was his goal in buying a fixer-upper.
He has a neighbor, an elderly gentleman named Peanut who is likely around eighty years old. He and Mike have become friends. His yard looks like a flea market but he does have tools to borrow when the need arises. One day he brought over some homemade wine produced from wild grapes. The three of us drank some and it was no longer safe to work with power tools! It was a bit high in alcohol content.
We know the house was built in the 1940s. The 2x4 frame is actually made from real 2x4s! There was nothing between the wood slat floors and the air beneath. No insulation, no basement, just an open crawl space. It was like a house built on a deck. The wood floors could not be reconditioned. Before the floors were leveled, there was a small hill/large bump in the middle of the living room. Peanut has lived next door so long he has a history of this house. He said it wasn’t built there. It was moved there from the country. We’re not sure how it held together. At one time a drug dealer lived there and after that it served as a beauty parlor. You can’t make this stuff up.
It is largely a neighborhood of families with a Mexican heritage. When we were working one day, the family across the street had a party. It was complete with authentic Mexican music and a red piñata for the kids to break open for candy. My brother, Bob, loves the Mexican ambiance and when he heard the music he craved a Margarita, so we went to one of the many Mexican restaurants in Temple that night. Unfortunately, we picked the Mexican restaurant (4.2. rating out of 5) that had a pet roach about the size of a half-used carpenter’s pencil. It crawled under our table and Bob, who I found out was a little sensitive to bugs, tapped his feet making sure it wouldn’t climb up his leg. A few minutes later, the roach was crawling up the wall behind Bob. I told Bob the roach was there but he thought I was pulling his leg. When he looked at my son, Mike, and saw the look on Mike’s face, he knew I wasn’t kidding and jumped up like a Mexican jumping bean. I called a waitress over while Bob grabbed a napkin and bravely grabbed the roach off the wall. Needless to say, dinner was over at the point. Unbelievably, they would only take half-off the bill.
My iPhone stopped working on day three. My power cord would not stay in the port and would not charge. I suspected some dust or object got in the port, but couldn’t fix it myself. Since my phone was my camera, my link to home, and so many other things we all get spoiled with, I wanted to get it fixed. The only problem was no Apple stores in Temple or Waco. The nearest Apple store was in Austin, a little over an hour’s drive away. I got an appointment for two days later at 5:50 PM. We decided this would be our mid-week break, and after seven hours of work that day, we would see some of Austin and to go out to eat.
This Apple store was in an upscale area called “The Domain”, which consisted of restaurants, shops, big stores like Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom’s, and condos-condos-condos. Sure enough, something was lodged in my phone port and it worked again when removed. While I was at the Apple store, Bob and Mike went to an outdoor bar down the street. I went to join them after my phone was fixed and saw Bob and Mike talking to this well-dressed, manicured man of about forty. Right away I knew what was up, the way this guy was leaning with his elbow on the bar and turned towards Mike. Mike and Bob had got into a conversation with this gentleman, named David. When he found out Mike had never been married and Bob was his uncle, he became even friendlier.
I entered the bar and Mike introduced me to David who smiled and was very polite. I said, “Let’s go eat!”, and David suggested an Italian restaurant down the way. Mike and David kept talking so I left the bar to wait. Mike nor Bob had no idea what was going on until David asked for Mike’s phone number. It wasn’t much after that that Mike and Bob joined me outside the bar. As we walked to the restaurant, both Mike and Bob claimed they were unaware of David’s real interest.
We went back to Temple that night and went right back to work the next day. I never ate so much dirt, dust, and gypsum. I also stepped on two nails, one rusty, (yes, I’m getting a tetanus shot) and smashed my fingers/hand about four times - not bad for a guy as clumsy as I am.
All in all, we accomplished quite a bit! The total rehab is only about 40% complete. But that’s not bad for 21 man-days of work. (I can say man-days because no women were involved, except the nice neighbor lady who brought us banana bread). Mike knows enough now to finish the job. This project will make this tour of duty, his last prior to retirement, go faster. In the end, he will feel very good about it - I’m sure.
While this wasn’t a standard “Helping Fathers to be Dads” blog post. It is an example of how great it is to have ‘family’! My brother and I didn’t have the best of circumstances growing up, but both of us were determined to not be like our father who never supported us. We are so proud of the families we have raised! All five of our children have college degrees and good jobs, and two have beautiful families of their own. Bob helps my family often and I help his family whenever I can. My son will be there for us, too, if ever we should need him. If all families worked together as well, drugs, crime, mental health issues, teen births, etc. would be much less of a problem in our society.
A country with solid supportive families would reduce our social issues significantly! When are we (dads, moms, businesses, government policies, etc.) going to do the things necessary to make families whole again? We need to start soon and, unfortunately, it will take two or three generations to correct after we begin a concerted effort. That is why I wrote a book and write this blog, because fathers are the key to keeping families together!
My writing has been on the back-burner because I’ve been busy all week helping my son rehab a rundown pier-and-beam 900 square foot house in Temple, Texas. The Army stationed him in Ft. Hood and his workstation is in a satellite area near that central Texas town. My brother Bob graciously took a weeks’ vacation to help - he being the one with the expertise to take on such a job. After a 12-hour drive with many delays on a hellish I-35, we started the next morning working 9 to 11 hours a day for seven days. We had to replace the central-weight-bearing wall, install seven new windows (with 10 more to go), rewire the electrical system, take down drywall, repair structural damage, re-drywall, repair a major plumbing leak, level the floors, etc.
We knew of some of the issues with this house, but so many other things were in terrible shape! Obviously, the inspector, owner, and real estate agent were less than honest and possibly in collusion. That being behind us, I believe this house will be the nicest in the neighborhood when complete, which is now in the hands of my son, alone. Usually, being the nicest house in a neighborhood is not the best situation for getting your money back, but its necessary and Mike will be living there for almost four years. Mike is learning a lot, as was his goal in buying a fixer-upper.
He has a neighbor, an elderly gentleman named Peanut who is likely around eighty years old. He and Mike have become friends. His yard looks like a flea market but he does have tools to borrow when the need arises. One day he brought over some homemade wine produced from wild grapes. The three of us drank some and it was no longer safe to work with power tools! It was a bit high in alcohol content.
We know the house was built in the 1940s. The 2x4 frame is actually made from real 2x4s! There was nothing between the wood slat floors and the air beneath. No insulation, no basement, just an open crawl space. It was like a house built on a deck. The wood floors could not be reconditioned. Before the floors were leveled, there was a small hill/large bump in the middle of the living room. Peanut has lived next door so long he has a history of this house. He said it wasn’t built there. It was moved there from the country. We’re not sure how it held together. At one time a drug dealer lived there and after that it served as a beauty parlor. You can’t make this stuff up.
It is largely a neighborhood of families with a Mexican heritage. When we were working one day, the family across the street had a party. It was complete with authentic Mexican music and a red piñata for the kids to break open for candy. My brother, Bob, loves the Mexican ambiance and when he heard the music he craved a Margarita, so we went to one of the many Mexican restaurants in Temple that night. Unfortunately, we picked the Mexican restaurant (4.2. rating out of 5) that had a pet roach about the size of a half-used carpenter’s pencil. It crawled under our table and Bob, who I found out was a little sensitive to bugs, tapped his feet making sure it wouldn’t climb up his leg. A few minutes later, the roach was crawling up the wall behind Bob. I told Bob the roach was there but he thought I was pulling his leg. When he looked at my son, Mike, and saw the look on Mike’s face, he knew I wasn’t kidding and jumped up like a Mexican jumping bean. I called a waitress over while Bob grabbed a napkin and bravely grabbed the roach off the wall. Needless to say, dinner was over at the point. Unbelievably, they would only take half-off the bill.
My iPhone stopped working on day three. My power cord would not stay in the port and would not charge. I suspected some dust or object got in the port, but couldn’t fix it myself. Since my phone was my camera, my link to home, and so many other things we all get spoiled with, I wanted to get it fixed. The only problem was no Apple stores in Temple or Waco. The nearest Apple store was in Austin, a little over an hour’s drive away. I got an appointment for two days later at 5:50 PM. We decided this would be our mid-week break, and after seven hours of work that day, we would see some of Austin and to go out to eat.
This Apple store was in an upscale area called “The Domain”, which consisted of restaurants, shops, big stores like Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom’s, and condos-condos-condos. Sure enough, something was lodged in my phone port and it worked again when removed. While I was at the Apple store, Bob and Mike went to an outdoor bar down the street. I went to join them after my phone was fixed and saw Bob and Mike talking to this well-dressed, manicured man of about forty. Right away I knew what was up, the way this guy was leaning with his elbow on the bar and turned towards Mike. Mike and Bob had got into a conversation with this gentleman, named David. When he found out Mike had never been married and Bob was his uncle, he became even friendlier.
I entered the bar and Mike introduced me to David who smiled and was very polite. I said, “Let’s go eat!”, and David suggested an Italian restaurant down the way. Mike and David kept talking so I left the bar to wait. Mike nor Bob had no idea what was going on until David asked for Mike’s phone number. It wasn’t much after that that Mike and Bob joined me outside the bar. As we walked to the restaurant, both Mike and Bob claimed they were unaware of David’s real interest.
We went back to Temple that night and went right back to work the next day. I never ate so much dirt, dust, and gypsum. I also stepped on two nails, one rusty, (yes, I’m getting a tetanus shot) and smashed my fingers/hand about four times - not bad for a guy as clumsy as I am.
All in all, we accomplished quite a bit! The total rehab is only about 40% complete. But that’s not bad for 21 man-days of work. (I can say man-days because no women were involved, except the nice neighbor lady who brought us banana bread). Mike knows enough now to finish the job. This project will make this tour of duty, his last prior to retirement, go faster. In the end, he will feel very good about it - I’m sure.
While this wasn’t a standard “Helping Fathers to be Dads” blog post. It is an example of how great it is to have ‘family’! My brother and I didn’t have the best of circumstances growing up, but both of us were determined to not be like our father who never supported us. We are so proud of the families we have raised! All five of our children have college degrees and good jobs, and two have beautiful families of their own. Bob helps my family often and I help his family whenever I can. My son will be there for us, too, if ever we should need him. If all families worked together as well, drugs, crime, mental health issues, teen births, etc. would be much less of a problem in our society.
A country with solid supportive families would reduce our social issues significantly! When are we (dads, moms, businesses, government policies, etc.) going to do the things necessary to make families whole again? We need to start soon and, unfortunately, it will take two or three generations to correct after we begin a concerted effort. That is why I wrote a book and write this blog, because fathers are the key to keeping families together!
The crew: Mike Sr. Bob, Mike Jr.
