Down here in Florida we have a neighbor, Joe. Joe (like me) is from Maine. Unlike me, Joe is a 20+ year Marine Corps veteran. Also unlike me, Joe is in his 80s and is getting a little fragile, although he won't ever admit it.
Well last week I was chatting with him in front of his house. I remarked that the bottom step of his stairs was looking a little worse for wear. He insisted it was fine, but a closer inspection showed that the stair tread was rotting. After all, it was 20 something years old. I told Joe that I'd fix it over the weekend.
And so yesterday I went to Big Box Hardware Store to get 2x12 and assorted stuff. I cut it to length and painted it (didn't want to put an outdoor stair down unpainted on the underneath, even if it was out of sight. Especially if it was out of sight ...). Then I pulled up the old plank.
Damn if the whole thing wasn't rotten, especially the support planks. Back to Big Box Hardware Store, and lots of cutting of 2x4. And painting. And clearing out the old stuff, down to (yay!) concrete. Then building the support box, then putting the tread on. Rock solid; yay, me!
And then painting. And the new step looked so good - and the old steps looked so weathered) that I painted the whole thing again. Puff, puff, puff.
But Joe's front steps look good now, and I don't worry about his (or Mrs. Joe) stepping onto a rotten board and falling down. So mission accomplished. And an ibuprofen cocktail was just what the Doctor ordered.
It's interesting here in Florida. There are a lot of older folks, and people pitch in to look after each other. We like it here rather a lot.
9 comments:
BTDT. One of my frequent dilemmas in remodeling is where to stop tearing out old crap in order to patch on the new. And then you deal with a frame where not one corner is square and no floor is level. It does test your skill as a carpenter.
In Florida, you have to deal with constant humidity--it's moisture and air together that rots wood. I was replacing old rotten fenceposts one time, and down beside the rotten remains of the post I was digging out, I found about a two foot remnant of the previous post. I took that rotted chunk of wood to my bandsaw, and in the middle was a couple inches of pristine cedar. It was wet, but no air to get to it, and estimated to be over 100 years in the ground.
You're a good man Charlie Brown
I'm sure Joe appreciates what you did.
You are a good neighbor and a good man.
Thanks, everyone. Joe (and Mrs. Joe) did appreciate it. That felt pretty good.
My back, that didn't feel so good ... ;-)
Good deed and good fun. I spend all my time on my computer, but when I actually fix something it really feels good. But apparently I am getting old, so for anything requiring heavy lifting I will need an assistant. Fortunately, I have a couple.
P.S. I misspelled deed. I fixed. 'Good dead' is not what I wanted to open with.
Well done sir!
Nice to know you're from Maine! My family of Scots-Irish emigrated to the New World in 1760, and like the damned fools they were, headed North instead of South. We've been here ever since.
A quick Mainiac story: I worked for 15 years for a performance test group, testing power plants all over the world. On one job in coastal Ecuador, my engineer (I was an instrument technician) happened to be from Fort Kent. We arrived at the plant, which was being built by a Quebec engineering firm that had bought the defunct Nepco group. Nepco was staffed with lots of guys who graduated from Maine Maritime's Power program, and many of them came over to the new firm.
Anyway, John and I arrived on site, and reported to the Construction trailer. Inside were 9 guys, and 8 of them were fellow Mainers. Upon finding out that John and I were both from the state, the one lone non-Maineac in the group, a crusty old Texan, turned to the Construction Manager and drawled; "How th' Hell did you let THAT happen?
Thank you, BP!
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