Installing a Door with Stanley

My hands are swollen. I ache all over. I am in the office for a regular check up but I am experiencing worse pain than usual. It is what they call a “Flair-up”.

A conversation with my favorite doctor, Dr. Artur Rand…

“Have you been taking your regular medications?”

“Yes”

“Have you been doing any unusually heavy work lately?”

“Not really, Doctor. I did paint the living room this week.”

“How long did it take you to paint the living room?”

“Oh…I did it in one day,” I said proudly.

“Next time take two days.”

 Installing a Door with Stanley
 

Stanley, the neighbor across the street, on the corner, has been coming here for a couple of days helping me install the side door. That door has been sealed shut with caulk since we bought the house. It was an old, hollow metal door that was completely rotted at the bottom, the ants and the rain had rusted and decayed both the door and the frame. I have put off the job of replacing it for these past few years but finally stiffened myself for the expense and effort. I am glad to say that the new primed, fibreglass door is now swinging and secured with a new stainless steel entrance lock. It still needs to be painted and the masonry opening still needs to be stuccoed as well. That is to say that the job is about 75% done and I am out of steam-for the moment. Stanley is a good chap. From Belize and lived in the U.S. for most of his life. Hard working and willing. I hope I paid him enough for the help but he would not name a price so I had to guess how much to give him and almost force it on him at the end of the day. Also it is hard to tell how he felt about the money as he is perpetually smiling and happy and I doubt he would express disappointment regardless.

I am not bragging when I say I am/was a good carpenter. It is work that I have always loved and for a good part of my life I earned my living doing carpentry, all types-trim, concrete form work, framing, hardware installation, etc. One does not do this work well unless one studies and enjoys it. Also, once a good carpenter always a good carpenter, the only restricting factor is one’s body which is bound to eventually “give out” as the trade is a strenuous one. I have never met an old carpenter who is not bent and busted, swollen with arthritis, unable to ply the trade except in the most limited way. Years of splinters and cuts, lifting great weight, twisting into difficult places and configurations in order to get to the work done takes its toll. Until recently I worked like there could be no end to me. Now I see that I am flesh and blood and the requirements of many tasks are beyond my capacity so I must get help from others to do what I need to get done, thus Stanley. I asked him to “help” me with the door because my swollen hands and aching back insisted but enjoying the aid of another presents another problem, this one mental and psychological.

Every mechanic (I use this term to include all who have mastered a trade and might earn a living at it if they choose to do so-it is a union term for a competent craftsperson) works in his own way. They use tools in a peculiar fashion, plan a job according to the way his or her own mind works and according to the training he or she has received. The job is either well or poorly done and describes the person who has done it. Within a range of possible techniques each mechanic works very differently. Also there is a pride that goes with doing a job and pride can be difficult to maintain if someone who works differently than you is overly critical or even takes such a different approach to the job so as to confuse you. A clash of personality or technique may ruin a job or a relationship when two dissimilar mechanics are trying to do the job together.

As we set up and began removing the old, rotted door and frame there was a dance of sorts. A respectful aligning of abilities. Stanley and I, I believe, found a stable state of equilibrium fairly early on. I had to work harder at scoping out Stanley’s methods and means than I did at installing the door. I know that earlier in my life-when I was in better shape, my hands were not swollen, and my bones and muscles were more compliant- I would have had that old door ripped out and the new door installed all by my self easily in a couple of work days. In my present state I decided 1) that I needed help to do the job and 2) that I needed to take a back seat and allow Stanley to work in his own way. Let him make the job move. If he did something that I felt was not wrong, but not the way I would do it, I had to let him take the lead. I consigned myself to the position of “Stanley’s helper”. That’s not an easy path for me. I’d spent the last thirty years of my life deciding how everything should be done by every trade on every job. That is what a superintendent does and it is very difficult to do, especially if one doesn’t want to alienate everyone on the job. Being the “helper” especially in my own trade was tough. Stanley, I am sure, was struggling with his own pride and his own desire to fit into the situation. We are neighbors, just beginning to appreciate a little friendship, trying to make a team of ourselves to get the job done. In the end we did the job without a negative word and I think a bit of respect for the abilities of the other.

 

My goal was not just to install a door it was to install a door and make a friend. To install a door and not hurt my aging body. I hope I have done that.