Editorial
Front Page - Friday, June 18, 2010
Are We There Yet?
Holly wars
Jay Edwards
The week began in the usual way, with a drive from the west side of town. I got to work and hooked up my laptop and began going through the e-mails that had amassed since Friday. I’d actually already glanced at many of the titles, first on my Crackberry and then my IPad. It’s tough to hide these days, and the excuse, “I never got that message,” don’t fly no more.
After scrolling through and trashing the messages of ways to instant wealth and eternal youth, I came across one from Bill Ellis, our editor and General Manager in Chattanooga. It gave me a good laugh, which is never a bad thing, especially early on a Monday. With Bill’s permission here it is –
“Sometime today I’ve got to meet a plumber at home.
Someone has always hated the ugly paneling in the garage and decided to remove it.
Someone found that removing the studs, once the paneling was gone, was not easy.
Someone was swinging a big hammer with his right arm,(the someone is question is left-handed) due to constant and aggravating pain in his left shoulder.
Someone took a big swing and hit the cute little pipe that brings water into someone’s home.
Someone made a big mess. Which is the story of someone’s life.”
I told Bill to do what he needed to and not to be too hard on himself. There is “someone” just like him in the adjoining state to the west.
What is it about guys and home improvements? I guess it’s part of that whole hunter/gatherer thing. You gather it and sooner or later you’re gonna have to fix it. And there is something about it, often deep inside, that we love. The world may be in shambles - oil gushing in the gulf, volcanoes in Iceland, Texas playing in the Pac-10, Americans tying Brits in soccer, but through all the chaos man still has his home, and if he’s fortunate enough, it’s falling apart all around him.
I’m no different. And while they will never inscribe, “He was a great handyman,” on my tombstone, I’ve been known to tackle those small to medium honey-dos in my 30-years of wedded marriage (OK, bliss).
I’ve taken out ceiling fans and put new ones in without electrocuting myself, or any of the neighborhood kids for that matter. I’ve even installed a new bathroom sink (Just once though, back when I was so young that I still believed money could buy happiness and that Republicans shrink government).
But last Saturday my project wasn’t nearly as ambitious as my friend’s from Hamilton County. I was only out to trim the hedges, those being seven very large Holly bushes that line the front of our house. It is a tedious and exhausting task, and one that requires spending a lot of time moving and climbing my eight-foot ladder.
Kathy recommended I hire someone, partly because she is a good and faithful wife who worries about my well being; and partly because she hates the way I trim hedges. My goal is just to make them smaller so we can see out our windows. Her goal is more artistic, as in lawn-of-the-month club beauty – ala Edward Scissorhands.
I procrastinated Saturday, even spending a half hour trying to find mates for those lone dark socks in my drawer that keep multiplying (a phenomenon I’ve yet to figure out).
Finally it was time. My Cairn Terrier Gus followed behind, excited about a new adventure. After only thirty minutes I was soaking wet and even Gus wanted back to the land of Freon.
A few more bushes and then a break for lunch; the heat was exhausting but I was making progress. My goal was to finish and have everything cleaned up by 4:00. At 3:00 I had two bushes left, but they were also the largest and toughest to reach.
I got my ladder between the house and the last huge Holly and began the fight, me cutting with my right hand while holding a top windowsill with my left; one foot on the ladder and the other on the narrow brick of the ledge. The sweat dripped over me as the angry Holly lunged back with prickly stabs.
I needed to reposition so I turned, with my foot landing in the right spot. But when I reached back for the top of the window I got nothing, only air and the sickening realization I was falling. It seemed like slow motion and I thought to myself, “This isn’t good.”
So I fell, but into a thick bush which fortunately wasn’t a Holly.
I hung above the ground for about half a minute before lowering myself the rest of the way down.
Thus ending another project.
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