Unknown English Artist: Linen, plain weave;
embroidered with wool and silk in tent stitches:
Harvesting (1701/25)

"What began as endless frustration …"

Two days following the FirstMeeting, the porch renovation project enjoyed a QuickStart. By eight-thirty, deck boards were being pried up. By noon, ceiling props were already being placed, and the brick planter wall was demolished. By the end of that first day of actual work, the ceiling had been thoroughly propped, and part of the brick perimeter had already been toppled. I constructed a peanut gallery comprised of a vintage metal lawn chair and a garden bench where Kurt, Our Painter, and I sat through the early afternoon making observations as the crew did what crews have always done. We considered it a credit to Pablo, The Concrete Contractor, that the crew seemed light-hearted, joking good-naturedly while they worked. Pablo occasionally called me over to point out some fresh absurdity in the construction he and his crew were dismantling. One only knows once deconstructing just how flimsy the prior renovation had been, though we had always suspected.

We decided that the brick front had indeed been cosmetic because the columns didn't extend down to the ground. They were balanced instead atop joists and posts, with some pieces in each pile loose and easily removed with no more than a hand. The roof had apparently been cantilevered in place, an overhang supported by little more than the rigidity along its leading edge and those massive ancient ceiling joists. The brick could have probably been removed without first propping up the roof, but as Pablo said, he tends to over-engineer his solutions. That certainly beats under-engineering them, and I'm pleased with the care he takes without even asking. This business seems fraught with risks much better not taken.

I had forgotten what happens when an experienced crew focuses on accomplishing something. Most of my experience has been on more cerebral projects where initial work leaned more toward definition, which always seemed painstaking. We'd seemingly stall in the starting blocks and take forever to build up enough steam to move even a spare inch forward. This project, though, was moving from the start. It was ruled more by adaptation than prior definition, with Pablo conducting what was never a scripted score. I cautioned him that Herman seemed bound and determined to cut his thumb off with the power saw. Pablo confirmed my concern, "He's like a monkey with that thing!" The crew continued with everyone finding something meaningful to attach themselves to, whacking brick or fashioning ceiling props. They even cleaned up after themselves at the end of the afternoon.

There was little to do but monitor progress, and I couldn't seem to distract myself from watching them work. I might have been incredulous that after so many years, this glaring error of a housefront was finally disappearing. Owning one of these old homes demands stewardship. It requires more than mere habitation. One must restore the place to as close to its original intentions as possible. Good stewardship should render a place ever more the way it originally was rather than radically remodeling it into some more post-modern form. The brick front was always an affront to this home's soul. It was so obviously a false front that it tarnished the place's reputation and naturally led anyone to question the owner's sanity and dedication. False fronts amount to vanity, an out-sized ego infringing upon basic sanity. We hope to return an authenticity to our outward face toward the world. We expect many subtle changes to result from this facelift, as restoring more original context always shifts story.

The QuickStart perhaps best delineates the spaces, the before time from the after. The prior regime had long overstayed its welcome. When we bought The Villa twenty-three years ago, the brick false front was almost a show stopper. It was such an obvious ruse it led us to wonder what else had been rouged in misguided effort to make this old girl seem younger and more vibrant. We learned in the nearly quarter century since, many of this place's poorly kept secrets. Whoever owned her through the seventies must have been do-it-themselfers, for the quality of that era's renovations has aged very poorly. Kurt reported contemptuously that he'd seen this story often in his more than half-century of professional contracting experience. Homeowner improvements inevitably cut corners. They display none of the benefits of strict permitting, inspection, or any deep understanding of the fundamental principles of building. They tend to be pretend improvements that might fool a few eyes but were ultimately intended to please only the ego-needy improver's.

I have been guilty of every sin every homeowner has ever committed, primarily for good and decent reasons. I feel grateful that The Muse and I are not trying to do this facelift ourselves and that we've hired competent and experienced professionals who bring their taste and experience into play. I spent my day in the peanut gallery, watching rapt as this embarrassment disappeared. Each whack of that sledgehammer reassures me that we might be capable of rising above our inheritance to take our place and leave a fresher legacy than did some previous owners I won't mention. My summer of discontent seems to be turning a more contented corner. What began as endless frustration appears to be transforming into considerable improvement, Grace incarnate!

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Grace, #PureSchmaltz