Girls and Boys
Great moments in building history: Boys aren't allowed to build a shed
It was a warm, sunny spring day in Richmond, Virginia. Several months earlier, my sister had held a party to destroy a shed that had been on the property when she bought her house. Now we were going to put up a new structure to house her gardening equipment.
I was excited about the project. The shed wasn’t one of those kits from the lumber store; we were building from scratch. My father headed up the work crew, and one of my brothers was joining us. My wife had come along for a visit but planned to steer clear of the work site. My wife is leery of power tools and made it clear that we amateur woodworkers should be careful to avoid injury.
You can count on my father for two things related to a project such as a backyard shed. He will go all out to finish it in the time allotted, in this case a weekend. And he will come up with a clever, elaborate design so that the finished product is eye-catching. My father’s design involved creating an 8-ft. by 8-ft. version of my sister’s 25-ft. by 25-ft. one-bedroom house, with siding and fake doors to match. Of course, my father’s tendencies can be a volatile mix, particularly when the shed’s design requires more than two days’ worth of work.
By the time I arrived at my sister’s house, my brother and father had already put down the plywood floor, and the framing was under way. I asked to see the plans, but my father pointed to his head and said with a knowing grin: “They’re all up here.” My own confidence sagged because I have tried to wing it on past projects and ended up with fairly odd results.
We compensated for the lack of blueprints by holding frequent conferences on what to do next. Neighbors who were wandering by also chimed in with their advice. As I popped in the house for a soda, I reassured my sister that the only possible injury on the job site was laryngitis.
When I noticed a minor problem in the framing and pointed it out, my father shrugged and said, “We’ll cover it with plywood.” When we got to the plywood and some corners were a bit off, my father shrugged and said, “We’ll cover it with the siding.” When the siding did not line up perfectly, my father shrugged and said, “It’s just a shed.”
Then my cousin and her husband wandered in to see how things were going. Their 5-year-old daughter also seemed interested in how we were proceeding. Her father stood by her, leaning over the framing and joining in the chatter. After some time, my cousin’s daughter spoke up.
“Daddy,” she asked, “how come all the boys are outside doing this and all the girls are inside? Are the girls not allowed to build this shed?”
We were all struck dumb for a moment, but I understood her confusion. In her house, her mother swung the hammer and did all the repairs around the house. Her father’s talents lay elsewhere—such as paying someone else to build a shed. But as he looked at our slightly ragged, off-the-cuff labor of love, he also knew the answer to her question: “It’s okay, honey. That’s true at this house, but at home, Mommy knows that it’s the boys who are not allowed to build a shed.”
—Michael Shea, Arlington, VA
Drawing by: Jackie Rogers
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