Tomorrow, I go back to work at the Museum. A truly unique and marvelous place to work; yet, I would be lying if I said I was excited. There is something soul-draining about working for a government agency, like being the engineer of a 20 mile long train that's sitting at the bottom of an uphill track (and the track is greased because studies show that greased tracks improve the train's fuel economy). You can shovel on the coal and spin the wheels until they melt off, or you can just sit there and take a nap. Either way, the end result is the same; after all, you're getting paid to
"be an engineer", not to get the train anywhere on time. Your tax dollars at work.
When my grandfather Buddy (the original F.W.) married my grandmother Betty, he was dirt poor. In the midst of the Great Depression, Buddy -a poor bricklayer's son from the small industrial town of Hazleton, Pa.- had no business marrying Betty -a successful farmer's daughter from the verdant Conyngham Valley below Hazleton-, but they eloped anyway in a friend's bread delivery truck. In his early 20's, shortly after his somewhat secret marriage, Buddy spent nights and weekends sorting through a pile of rubble from a demolished smokestack, cleaning old mortar off of brick after brick in preparation for the building of his soon-to-be family's first home. Buddy built that house, by the sweat of his brow and nothing else. He eventually became mayor of that little township in the valley, built a highly successful business from the ground up and took his beautiful bride all over the world. Betty lived in that house until the day she died, more than 60 years after its construction. It stands today as a testament to love, devotion and sacrifice. It also represents the indomitable nature of the human spirit. Buddy wrestled the world into submission, literally beating the snot out of the odds, brick by brick.
I felt impressed to share this story and the commentary about government work because I feel I am on the precipice of two great courses; life as everyone else knows it and life as something... else. We've been in the neighborhood of this precipice (as a family) since the beginning of last summer (when I quit teaching), but have continually kept our faces turned toward the safe, traditional paths. It wasn't until the past 4-5 weeks that I really got a decent look at the other side, and I like it. It's risky, dangerous and seems likely to chew you up and spit you out; but, it also bears the faint, distant promise of opportunity, the vein-y, elusive core of freedom. Not freedom from labor, trouble, struggle or stress, not freedom from anything at all, but freedom to. Freedom to work to support yourself, freedom to put everything you have into something in the faith that your efforts will be recognized, appreciated and in some small way rewarded.
Brinn says I'm a "hard worker", but I'm not. I'm just stubborn. I wrestle projects into submission until what stands before me resembles what stood in my mind before I started. Sometimes the fight is over quickly, but more often than not it's a long, messy, drawn-out affair that I commit myself to seeing through because I care, and because I'm stubborn. I put a LOT of effort into each and every one of these builds, and it honestly has very little to do with the money associated. My drive, the impetus for working 'til midnight in the yard, sorting through lumber piles with the three good fingers I have left (on both hands), and hauling little houses hither and yon in a crusty, rattle-trap truck is this, the feeling of standing on your own two feet in the face of uncertainty. I will work the pads right off of my fingers to experience the invigorating rush affected by refusing to be another name in a pile of resumes. To know that my fate is in my own hands, that my family's sustenance is not at the mercy of a disinterested, incompetent, self-serving third party; yes, I will fight for that, brick by brick.
And now a few pics (these are Monday's progress, I didn't take an pics of today's work):
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| Working up a stockpile of plank-age for the 'Castle Coop. This is gonna be a big one. Someone was about to throw that saw table to the right away before I snagged (a.k.a., quasi-dumpster dove) it. |
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| Lights extend the workday. |
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| I ripped down my own studs and half way framed this project out, mostly because of its size, I wanted some extra strength. Notice the rad, real-deal antique window going in. |
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| I may have said something along the lines of, "I'm not going to do this" about the hand-milled clapboard I made for this build, and I may not do it on the spacious backside, but I really wanted to see it in action so I could have the pictures for future reference. |
Stay tuned,
F.W.
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