My Pops Showed Me How
Look, the lights work!
My favorite part of doing the work of home renovation is learning from my mentors, and the first and greatest mentor I ever had is my dad. He showed me that the work can be done, even if it may not always be fun or glamorous. For years growing up, I watched him, shaking my head, as he scraped and repainted our house on 19th street. I pitied him. Who would want to put themself through that time after time? Doesn’t he have other things he’d rather do?
Of course he did. But the job needed done and he was unwilling to pay someone else to do a job he could do himself. I didn’t get it; I do now. It’s one thing to hire someone when the you can safely complete a job yourself, but it’s another thing entirely to hire and pay someone else to do work you're capable of doing.
"Do It Yourself" is a deeply rooted gene (not yet fully characterized by science) occurring at high frequency in the Scandinavian/ Lutheran gene pool. I inherited it from him, though it wasn’t activated until I was well into middle age. I mean, lots of genes work that
way. Now it’s turned on, and I can’t deny nature.
Or maybe it's more nurture. My dad pleaded with me to help him do jobs around the house or up at our summer place in Michigan. I swear, when we would go north he’d work the whole time. I rarely bit on helping him but the few times I did forged memories I cherish, but more importantly, shaped skills and an ethos of sweat equity that I'm glad I now have. I learned about measured strokes with a hammer from helping him replace rotted out deck boards on our back patio. I learned a healthy respect for, and fear of, power tools as he taught me to use the Sears sawzall to cut out old deck boards out (he later gave it to me and 40 years later, it finally gave up the ghost.) From him I learned about wearing eye protection and gloves and that with the proper tools and precautions there is no reason why you can’t do the work yourself.
My dad has been a part of every house we’ve taken on. In addition to teaching me how to fix houses, he taught me about the profitability of real estate. It was he who convinced us to level up 20 years ago and buy the Sycamore Street house where we lived for 17 years and which in turn would provide the equity we would use to buy our Lagoons home--- a literal dream come true. He knew and told us that it would be hard at first and needed plenty of work. We’d feel in over our heads with the payments. We did, but we wouldn't be where we are today without having made that scary move.
Less so now than in years past but my dad would know, intuitively, if I was calling him on a Saturday morning, there was probably electrical work that needed done. He’d entertain my request, grinning to himself on the other end of the line, and ask, “what tools should I bring?” To which I’d dumbly reply, “uh, all of them?” He taught me hot from neutral from ground wire and showed me how to test a wire and outlet. There’s a magic about electricity, that isn’t magic at all, but still feels that way, when you flip the switch and the thing lights up. We have a private ritual (no longer private, I guess) where when that light or outlet works, we perform a little happy dance. We put our hands on each other's shoulders and jump up and down and cheer for joy. We'll never stop doing it, I'm certain of that.
My pops has crawled into the attic or crawlspace with me many times, and it was he who taught me not to have irrational fear of those confined, dusty, cobweb-ridden areas. It’s just about doing what has to be done. Like life, no one said that every day was going to be fun or easy.
Measure twice, cut once. There are some things you can’t undo, and no one taught me the importance of being diligent with one’s actions more than my dad. You can never be too careful, too sure, too exacting in life, whether it’s in measuring the length of a board or in the irreversibility of one’s actions or words. Like me, he’s not overly gratuitous with his words and sometimes says things he regrets. But the simple mantra of “measure twice, cut once” has always stuck with me and it applies well beyond the concrete world of wielding a circular saw.
Some see the arguably risky endeavors we’ve taken in life with houses as spontaneous or ill-advised, but the reality is that my dad taught me to evaluate risks and be ready to take action when opportunities present. This is always the product of a carefully considered plan. When he and his buddies take motorcycle trips, they almost never pre-determine their location. They know how long they will be gone, the approximate distance they’d like to travel, and that their bikes are in good working order. They decide on a location a day or two beforehand based on which compass point seems to have the most favorable weather. Given that they’ve seen it all on their bikes, this plan rarely results in them getting stranded without a campsite or a room; their bedrock of experience informs good decision making.
This kind of thinking suits me well. From an outside perspective it may appear that decisions are rash or spontaneous. People that are always scanning the horizon for the next great opportunity, though, are the types of people I want to be around. I’m not actually sure he knows the extent to which he's influenced me in this regard (I guess he does now.) Further, I don’t know if he knows the impact that his dad, who invested in a retirement community real estate project in Florida back in the 60’s and made a bundle, had on me. I don't even remember meeting his dad, my Grandpa Eric, because he died young, but I knew that it was this decision that left my Grandma Elsie living comfortably for the rest of her life. More importantly, I just thought, “Man, the cojones he must have had to do that! What a move!”
My parents bought a cottage in South Haven, Michigan when I was a kid. I remember Pops going up there in the dead of winter to close on the sale and how I was nervous for him. I didn’t know if I needed to be or not, but it seemed like he was going on trial, way up there on that frozen January weekend to seal a deal. And when I first saw the place, I thought it seemed a little run down. I didn’t see the potential at that time, but I knew my dad did, and now, I see things through that lens of potential to add value.
Nearing 50, we now have our own place in Michigan, and guess what? Every time we go, I’m knocking out projects. It’s not just because I can or because I’d like to save the money; I do it because I love it. It’s fun. It’s rewarding. At the same time, it’s adding value to a thing. My pops taught me that adding value to a thing is a productive use of one's time and because of that, he's added tremendous value to my life itself. Thanks, Pop.