Have fun, be good, take a nap

When we were kids, Mom would feed us breakfast and send us off to school in the morning with the admonition, "Have fun, be good, learn lots." Concise, to the point, and very Helen. I went to see Mom and Dad for a weekend recently, and now her mantra is "Have fun, be good, take a nap."

I'm beginning to learn how to take a break at the appropriate moment, step back from an issue, and just chill. There was one such moment, I think it was Day 3, when something random and unintentional got to me. Maybe I was tired, or I missed my own space, whatever. I stopped what I was doing, took my laptop out on the deck and listened to Simon and Garfunkel. It was restful and a source of stimulation at the same time, allowing me to step back from my reaction to Mom's reaction to Dad's reaction to some other dysfunctional faux pas in the peasant family dynamics. I'm not going to over-analyze it, just acknowledge it.

The whole visit went well, and I'm grateful that I can hang out with my aging parents at their house in their comfort zone and their daily rhythms, enjoy their company, and get a couple of chores done. Dad had a project or two underway, as usual, and he welcomed my participation as much as I welcomed having something tangible to do. That kind of reciprocity has not always been the case, so we seem to be making progress in that area.

The deck he built with the help of a friend has deteriorated over the course of 18 years of sun, wind, rain, and hickory trees, so Dad was replacing the spindles of the railing enclosing the north and west sides of the deck. My first job was to paint the new 1x1-inch 4-foot hardwood spindles--after first artfully arranging then on a dropcloth on the floor of the garage. This was nice solitary work that I could do in a deep squat taiji style like some Chinese-Norwegian Jackson Pollack.

My second job was to drill and screw the spindles onto the railing and deck. It's not rocket science, but as with any project, there are plenty of ways to get it wrong while measuring, spacing, and attaching stuff to other stuff, whether you're 12 feet up a ladder or bending over from above. This phase of the work required some communication, as well as trading off drill and screwdrivers, so Dad and I carried on a focused dialog as we worked through the process step by step.

Because Dad is 88 (and I'm not), I handled the ladder climbing, securing the bottom of the spindles to the deck frame while he attached the tops to the railing. Because he has degrees in industrial arts and a lifetime of experience in building and fixing things, he had a pretty clear idea of how to go about the task safely and effectively. Because I'm not 12 (or 18, or 24, or 30) anymore and have been to school and work awhile myself, I was able to offer a few suggestions on how we could organize and execute the work, though I usually deferred to his judgment. Because he recognized my contributions and valued my efforts, he listened to my ideas with an open mind and heart and mostly let me do my part my way.

By the end of the day, we had one side of the deck done and were ready for a vodka and Squirt. Mom had cooked a fine dinner of country ribs and scalloped potatoes, and I think I ate enough for three people. The deck railing was only one job in a to-do list compiled by a local construction expert, and I spent a little time reading through the other repairs that would bring their house up to marketable condition. Not that anyone is in a big hurry to sell the house and move to a condo up the road. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

The roof figures prominently in about half of the list, and a quick look from the back deck provided a clue to the problem. I had some downtime the next day, so I climbed up on the roof with a broom intending to spend half an hour sweeping off debris from the trees that tower over The Little House on the Fairway. You guessed it, half an hour turned into half a day, and a quick sweep turned into a sparring match with a ton of damp hickory droppings, gravity, the pitch of the roof, and the hot Tennessee sun. Luckily I kept my maize and blue Michigan baseball cap on, so I maintained a cool head and didn't succomb to heat exhaustion, vertigo, or delerium. My legs got a workout, and the accumulation of debris in low spots showed me how a minor design flaw led to the need for some of the repairs on the list. I'm looking forward to the next project.