Old Fashioned Home-Raising
When it comes to building stuff, I'm about as handy as a match at a gasoline spill.
My dad can take a block of wood and, using a chisel, a hammer and some sandpaper, somehow shape it into a Carnival cruise ship. His father built myriad fine homes in Long Island, N.Y.
I'd be lucky to whittle myself a spear out of a broom handle.
Nevertheless, I signed up to work a Saturday at a Habitat for Humanity project in northern Beaumont.
Habitat for Humanity, with the help of lots of volunteers and money and material donations, builds or refurbishes houses and sells them to needy families, who get financed through no-interest loans. The families are expected to take part in some of the construction. This is called "sweat equity."
Habitat for Humanity, founded in 1976, is a nonprofit international ecumenical Christian housing ministry that has built almost a quarter million houses worldwide, with homes for more than 1 million people in more than 3,000 communities, according to http://www.habitat.org/how/factsheet.aspx
They're not palacial, posh mansions, but they are nice, well-built, decent-sized homes that often dramatically elevate the owners' quality of life.
In the communities that Hurricanes Rita, Katrina and Wilma ravaged this year, Habitat for Humanity has its work cut out for itself.
Signing up as a volunteer through my church, Wesley United Methodist, the work date was supposed to be weeks ago, but Rita blew a wrench into that. A home-building event postponed for a home-wrecking event.
The project was rescheduled for this past Saturday, so off I went to the work site, carring a couple of pints of coffee, some protective goggles and a hammer. Mr. Extreme Home Fakeover.
I didn't need any equipment, though, because there was plenty of it available, from electric saws to fashionable aprons for toting around nails, hammers and other home-construction whatnot.
I got assigned to the roof, pounding on plywood and then nailing tarp upon it.
This is not sissy work, for hammering on an angled roof is precarious business. I found myself hammering on the slide amid other works bearing nail guns, saws and other potentially skin-shredding, eye-popping devices.
Nails, hammers and sheets of tarp rolled off the rooftop as workers hollered "HEADACHE!!!" to warn those toiling below. People slipped on the slick plywood. One guy, whose name I can't recall, navigated the exposed rafters with nothing but cool fall air between him and the concrete 10 feet or so below. When asked how he swallowed his fear, the mountain goat said he used to work at a refinery, and walking around on the catwalks 300 feet above the Earth was far more frightening.
I felt like a sissy.
Nevertheless, I continued pounding away for hours and hours. At about 3:30 p.m., our work was done. We'd run out of materials, and the roof, except for the shingles, was done anyway. My sole injury for the day was a throbbing left thumb, which took a poorly aimed hammer blow near day's end.
I'd heard the home was for a single mother and her daughter, but they weren't there for sweat equity on this day. There is still plenty of work to be done, including interior Sheetrock installation, a job a group of Catholics was doing on another Habitat for Humanity home down the street.
I'd like to say the experience left me all warm and fuzzy inside, but I can't. I had too much fun and learned too many fascinating things about home construction. I also burned enough calories to take care of the cheeseburger that volunteers grilled up for lunch.
After the home is finished and the occupants move in, maybe I'll drive over there and say "Hello." Maybe I'll bring them a house-warming present, too.
My dad can take a block of wood and, using a chisel, a hammer and some sandpaper, somehow shape it into a Carnival cruise ship. His father built myriad fine homes in Long Island, N.Y.
I'd be lucky to whittle myself a spear out of a broom handle.
Nevertheless, I signed up to work a Saturday at a Habitat for Humanity project in northern Beaumont.
Habitat for Humanity, with the help of lots of volunteers and money and material donations, builds or refurbishes houses and sells them to needy families, who get financed through no-interest loans. The families are expected to take part in some of the construction. This is called "sweat equity."
Habitat for Humanity, founded in 1976, is a nonprofit international ecumenical Christian housing ministry that has built almost a quarter million houses worldwide, with homes for more than 1 million people in more than 3,000 communities, according to http://www.habitat.org/how/factsheet.aspx
They're not palacial, posh mansions, but they are nice, well-built, decent-sized homes that often dramatically elevate the owners' quality of life.
In the communities that Hurricanes Rita, Katrina and Wilma ravaged this year, Habitat for Humanity has its work cut out for itself.
Signing up as a volunteer through my church, Wesley United Methodist, the work date was supposed to be weeks ago, but Rita blew a wrench into that. A home-building event postponed for a home-wrecking event.
The project was rescheduled for this past Saturday, so off I went to the work site, carring a couple of pints of coffee, some protective goggles and a hammer. Mr. Extreme Home Fakeover.
I didn't need any equipment, though, because there was plenty of it available, from electric saws to fashionable aprons for toting around nails, hammers and other home-construction whatnot.
I got assigned to the roof, pounding on plywood and then nailing tarp upon it.
This is not sissy work, for hammering on an angled roof is precarious business. I found myself hammering on the slide amid other works bearing nail guns, saws and other potentially skin-shredding, eye-popping devices.
Nails, hammers and sheets of tarp rolled off the rooftop as workers hollered "HEADACHE!!!" to warn those toiling below. People slipped on the slick plywood. One guy, whose name I can't recall, navigated the exposed rafters with nothing but cool fall air between him and the concrete 10 feet or so below. When asked how he swallowed his fear, the mountain goat said he used to work at a refinery, and walking around on the catwalks 300 feet above the Earth was far more frightening.
I felt like a sissy.
Nevertheless, I continued pounding away for hours and hours. At about 3:30 p.m., our work was done. We'd run out of materials, and the roof, except for the shingles, was done anyway. My sole injury for the day was a throbbing left thumb, which took a poorly aimed hammer blow near day's end.
I'd heard the home was for a single mother and her daughter, but they weren't there for sweat equity on this day. There is still plenty of work to be done, including interior Sheetrock installation, a job a group of Catholics was doing on another Habitat for Humanity home down the street.
I'd like to say the experience left me all warm and fuzzy inside, but I can't. I had too much fun and learned too many fascinating things about home construction. I also burned enough calories to take care of the cheeseburger that volunteers grilled up for lunch.
After the home is finished and the occupants move in, maybe I'll drive over there and say "Hello." Maybe I'll bring them a house-warming present, too.
posted by Brian Pearson at 10:01 AM
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