#23: The mystery of the forced manual labor

Last summer we painted our house (again). 

We tried to convince my dad that hiring the job out was the best way to go. But dad has a bad habit of making things like this a "family project" that we all do together. I never quite understood why we didn't just get someone else to do it or take what I thought would be an "easier way". Then I read this article about a dad who takes a project and turns it into an opportunity to have some face time with his kids. (You can check out the article here or just read it below.)

"Living in a small country town has its advantages, but one disadvantage is the mud in the spring. In an attempt to keep the mud outside the house, I planned to spread gravel on my dirt driveway. I had 60 tons of gravel brought in and left in two piles, which looked even bigger when I stood in front of them. In our town, people commonly have big trucks, trailers, tractors, front loaders, and backhoes. Me? I’m the guy with a shovel and a wheelbarrow.

I asked Rory, my 15-year-old son, if he would come out and help. He wasn’t the picture of enthusiasm, but he agreed....He was a teenager whose world was getting larger than the one his dad used to fill. I had never had any real problems with him, but he was no longer the little boy who would hold my hand and chatter as we walked. His world now included many activities and friends that took him outside the home. We still enjoyed each other’s company but found it harder to spend time together. I wouldn’t have guessed that moving gravel would facilitate openness between us, but on that day it did just that.

As we shoveled, each to our own rhythm, Rory started talking. At first we discussed the job at hand, but then the talk turned to other things that were on his mind. We discussed music that he was interested in. He was active in certain forums on the Internet and described the posted conversations. In school he had a psychology class, and we discussed some of the ideas. Then there was the topic of his friends, and several funny stories followed.

As we talked we filled the wheelbarrow, and then I would lift the load, wheel it to a bare spot, and dump it. I was pleasantly surprised when Rory followed me during these short intervals in order to keep up the conversation. I am pretty sure he didn’t know how much his willingness to talk meant to me. I tried not to let on. His talking so freely to me didn’t happen every day.

As we worked, blisters formed on my hands, but they were just a reminder of the sweet time I spent with my children, especially my oldest son.

Across the street a young construction contractor was building his house. While I was working, he was using a front loader to push the earth around the foundation of his home. It would have taken 20 minutes to get our job done with his powerful machine, but I was afraid he was going to come over and offer to help. I would have looked foolish turning down his help, but accepting it would have robbed me of the unexpected experience I was having with my children. Toward the end of the job, when I was exhausted, I wasn’t sorry. My children were still there and were still talking to me. Manually moving that gravel was the sweetest hard work I had ever done."

I'm guessing this is a big reason why dad made us do the work (I'm sure there were lots of other good reasons too, Dad...) This video clip was another big hint as to what was so important about all of us getting out there and doing the work ourselves. 

All in all, I'm grateful that my dad has always taken a "homegrown" approach to the jobs around the house (big and small). (That's easy to say now that I'm not living in the same state as my parents--can't get roped into a home improvement project for at least another 9 months haha) I have learned so much from my parents about how to work and take care of myself and those around me. The lessons learned and the time spent together were well worth the hours of manual labor.