Cut The Deck

CAPTION: "Well, you know its a lot bigger than it looks."

 

My parents and grandparents shared a fairly common "American Dream." Before they departed the planet they wanted to own homes with "little white picket fences." If you search the branches of your family tree, you'll find the identical dream.

For those of us still around, I think the house dream remains a constant. But the "little white picket fence?" It's my observation it has been symbolically replaced by another add-on. Can you guess?

How about "a little house with a big ol' DECK."

Okay, here we go. 

         ALL HANDS ON DECK

                              By Paul Reinertson

                                   Circa 1984

 

         Welcome to our redwood deck. My stepsons and I built it ourselves. Those of you sitting in the corner over there on the right? Be careful. That’s where we ran out of cement for the posts, and that section could go at anytime.

Those of you standing on that northeast corner? Don’t lean on the rail. They shorted us some bolts so that part of the railing is attached with some carpet tacks I foundin the garage.

         Other than those two hazards, I’ll think we’ll all be safe here while I tell you the story of creating this urban escape from reality. But, ah, we need to get going. If I don’t get on with it we’re all going to get soaked by the sprinkler system. It’s just a little detail overlooked as we were selecting the site.

        

I’m a do it yourself man. You know what that means? It means I’m one of those hardy guys who figures he can jump in and easily do what some carpenter spent five years apprenticing to learn. I’m going to admit this up front. Being a do it yourself guy requires some level of chronic insanity. The chronicosity is critical. Persistent insanity is what keeps you from calling in professional help when that’s clearly the appropriate action. Call me crazy, but “I (we) did it all by my (our) self (ves)

How did this all get started? Well I’m tired of sitting around work listening to all the guys talk about these great barbeques they’ve having out on their decks. Why can’t I? It starts with a little daydreaming. And I have to admit the daydreaming gets a little out of hand. I see this tri-level redwood outdoor manse. There is a spot for the ten foot by teen foot gas grill in the center of the edifice. Brick planters are strategically placed around the outer edges. There is a beam lattice overhead for hanging pots. And there is a brick bar with a granite top.

I spend two week’s worth of spare time designing and costing it all out. I takethe final numbers to my wife for economic approval. Quietly, but firmly she says, “you are about ten thousand dollars short.”

I am devastated. What will have to go?

“Take a look at my design plans, HON! Maybe we could take out a loan?”

She looks.

“Hmm?”

“What is the meaning of Hmm dear?”

“Looks familiar to me!”

Why the gall!

“What do you mean familiar?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m sure I saw the same deck in the last edition of Better Homes and Decks.”

“You know I never read that junk. How could I have gotten any ideas from there?”

She walks to the dining room table producing the magazine in question. There it, is, granite bar top and all. I am shocked, hurt, and angry all at once. How could they have already stolen my design.

She lets me suffer a few minutes and then points to what should have been the obvious. It’s a caption that reads: HOME OF BILL AND JUDY REDMAN.

“Don’t I know them?”

“Uh huh. They are friends of Sam and Edna, and we were at a barbeque at their house last summer.”

“DAMN!”

I’ll try to keep that kind of language to a minimum. But as we go along here I know at least a percentage of you will want to join me in a little verbal purging of frustration.

Well, the telling of this story is going to take some time. So grab some ice tea from the window sill, and let’s take a little break before I really get into this.

Let’s don’t make it too long though. Remember we’ve still got the sprinkler to worry about.