A Debris-Free Christmas!
On the way to take my eldest son, Curt, on a shopping odyssey Saturday, I spied something that made my heart jump and my holiday hopes soar. No, it wasn't a package-delivery guy, in a truck or on a sleigh.
It was the brush man!
During the almost three months after Hurricane Rita, we'd seen the trucks come through at least three times, only to have our mammoth mound shunned due to its intimidating largeness.
I quickly pulled over, got out and shook the brush guy's hand as he stood outside his monster crane truck and eyeballed a limb pile. He looked larger than life: tall, lanky, rugged, scruffy and wearing those state trooper sunglasses.
Could this be the hurricane superhero who would get that horrible, grass-killing 20-by-15-yard log pile off my front yard?
I told him how happy I was to see him and that I'd started to wrap my head around the possibility that my yard had been banished to the Land of the Misfit Debris Piles. I told him how the heart-wrenching heap served as a constant reminder of the neighbor's gigantic pine tree, which did more than $15,000 to my home and put our family life into upheaval.
In other words, I kissed his butt.
"Is this pile huge?" he asked.
"Why yes, it is very large!" I replied.
"Excellent," he said. "I like the big ones."
I shook his hand again and drove away, confident that by the time I returned, the angels would be singing as massive logs got yanked one at a time off my yard. Sure enough, a couple of hours later, there he was, saddled in his truck as if he were Paul Bunyun riding a mechanical ox.
Little by little, the debris pile disappeared as Bunyun skillfully used his crane as if it were a third arm, carefully picking up debris and putting it into larger lumps before taking them away with big claw grabs.
Little boys and girls from around the neighborhood watched in amazement as Bunyun worked, going house to house and taking away the eyesores one pile at a time.
Not only did he take away the tree remnants, he also came back and removed the other debris, the damaged roof boards, Sheetrock and assorted junkery.
By the time the dust settled, the noise subsided and entertainment died down, I finally felt a long-shouldered weight lift and the spirit of Christmas whoosh in.
The roof is done. The master bedroom, closet and bathroom are whole again, with a fresh coat of wife-pleasing paint. We've moved out of the sun room last night and back into the bedroom. The only thing left to do now are the outdoor fence, gutter and awning replacement, which won't disrupt our lives.
Tonight, we'll crank up the Christmas music, decorate the tree and celebrate the fact that the hardest part of the Rita recovery, at least for our little home, is behind us.
It was the brush man!
During the almost three months after Hurricane Rita, we'd seen the trucks come through at least three times, only to have our mammoth mound shunned due to its intimidating largeness.
I quickly pulled over, got out and shook the brush guy's hand as he stood outside his monster crane truck and eyeballed a limb pile. He looked larger than life: tall, lanky, rugged, scruffy and wearing those state trooper sunglasses.
Could this be the hurricane superhero who would get that horrible, grass-killing 20-by-15-yard log pile off my front yard?
I told him how happy I was to see him and that I'd started to wrap my head around the possibility that my yard had been banished to the Land of the Misfit Debris Piles. I told him how the heart-wrenching heap served as a constant reminder of the neighbor's gigantic pine tree, which did more than $15,000 to my home and put our family life into upheaval.
In other words, I kissed his butt.
"Is this pile huge?" he asked.
"Why yes, it is very large!" I replied.
"Excellent," he said. "I like the big ones."
I shook his hand again and drove away, confident that by the time I returned, the angels would be singing as massive logs got yanked one at a time off my yard. Sure enough, a couple of hours later, there he was, saddled in his truck as if he were Paul Bunyun riding a mechanical ox.
Little by little, the debris pile disappeared as Bunyun skillfully used his crane as if it were a third arm, carefully picking up debris and putting it into larger lumps before taking them away with big claw grabs.
Little boys and girls from around the neighborhood watched in amazement as Bunyun worked, going house to house and taking away the eyesores one pile at a time.
Not only did he take away the tree remnants, he also came back and removed the other debris, the damaged roof boards, Sheetrock and assorted junkery.
By the time the dust settled, the noise subsided and entertainment died down, I finally felt a long-shouldered weight lift and the spirit of Christmas whoosh in.
The roof is done. The master bedroom, closet and bathroom are whole again, with a fresh coat of wife-pleasing paint. We've moved out of the sun room last night and back into the bedroom. The only thing left to do now are the outdoor fence, gutter and awning replacement, which won't disrupt our lives.
Tonight, we'll crank up the Christmas music, decorate the tree and celebrate the fact that the hardest part of the Rita recovery, at least for our little home, is behind us.
posted by Brian Pearson at 10:06 AM
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