What do carpenters talk about on the job site? You might be surprised. The stereotype image of a beer-guzzling, red neck, big-wheel pickup driving guy talking about cars, women, and sports is just that—a stereotype.
Carpenters, and other tradesmen and women, are some of the smartest and most interesting people I have ever met.
For one, I worked with Johnny Garcia, son of a migrant fruit picker, for many years. He “came out from under the grape vines to get away from the snakes, spiders, scorpions, and tarantellas.” Conversations with him ranged from “why is there something rather than nothing” to “why is there any life at all on this small planet we call mother earth?”
Esau came from South Georgia, son of a share cropping family. I used to personally take him to a new job site because he couldn’t read the street signs. But talk about music! He could see music in his mind, compose songs in his head, and wail on a guitar. He brought joy to the job site.
Tom was a black guy studying for his PHD in science at UCLA. He taught me about protons, quantum physics, and black holes. For sure, I still need further education in these topics.
These carpenters, and many others, stirred my own juices to think and talk about more than framing walls, cutting roof rafters, and hanging doors. They made life more interesting, even exciting. At times I felt like I was riding a wild horse (photo) being with them.
Here are a few thoughts on a job-site topic: Why am I here?
THE REASON FOR MY EXISTENCE
Out of the blue it came to me just like the old ones said it would. Solutions to matters of import are seldom found in mathematical equations. They come straight out of the blue. Not a great matter for you maybe, but I wanted to know. Why I am here is basic. What’s my purpose on this bright planet? Why have I been studying, raising children, building houses, teaching students, and writing books? Surely there is a grand scheme to all this toil.
[[[PAGE]]]
I was sitting on my cushion, as I am wont to do these last twenty years or so, when the answer came. I was watching my mind, being careful with my breath, aware of the birds singing outside. It slipped into this awareness in the tiny gap found between breath and no-breath. That’s the place where wild things happen. Pay attention to the gap say the old ones. If you just see the leaves and not the spaces between, do you see the tree? If you just see the stars and not the dark figures between, do you see the sky? If you just hear the notes without paying attention to the silent spaces between, do you hear the music?
Those who know me remember that I came off the high, short-grass prairies where the only constant is the Wyoming wind. There was never a question about whether the wind was blowing or not. Rather it was about how hard and how cold it blows, coming down across those snow-covered (photo), sagebrush hills. A few old ones still live there, but these days they have warm clothes and warm houses.
I was born in the early 30s, born in an uninsulated rural farmhouse without central heating, wool socks or goose-down comforters. Three feet away from that iron kitchen stove and you were freezing. Whatever the temperature was outside that was the temperature in our bedrooms even when mother warmed the sheets with her flat iron. For the eighteen years I lived there, my strongest memory is that I was always cold. Sure we had those summer days. I would huddle on the lee side of our house and try to warm my deepest parts. The chill never left. I could never get warm “all the way through.”
So I headed out the day high school ended without bothering to attend graduation. The old ones said: “go south.” I went south. And south was a dreamland where the sun shone almost every day. Some years we saw morning frost two or three times. Snow was something you could go visit, miles away, if you wanted. I could feel myself thawing, partially.
I started at the university. I became a carpenter, a navy man, a teacher, a husband, a father, a writer, a runner, a gardener. But the cold was always there, peering from its home base, waiting for its chance to inhabit me again and again. Even as I sit here writing, I can feel the chill in my feet. Long, lean, and hungry looking I am, not much natural insulation on these bones, growing older daily. By the time blood is pumped from my heart down through my long body to my toes it has cooled considerably. Take the guard down for a minute and there will be icicles on my nose.
So that’s what came to me in the gap. I realized that all my efforts, all my struggles, the reason for my existence, has been to do whatever was necessary to keep myself warm. As an old one, I tell this to you.
(Written on a warm September day). Larry Haun
Fine Homebuilding Recommended Products
Fine Homebuilding receives a commission for items purchased through links on this site, including Amazon Associates and other affiliate advertising programs.
8067 All-Weather Flashing Tape
Reliable Crimp Connectors
Affordable IR Camera
View Comments
I am working on a project and the customer wants me to install recessed lights in her kitchen. The house was built in the 50's. The ceiling material is not drywall or plaster. It is similar to masonite/hardboard and is 3/8" thick. I am worried about creating a fire hazard by instaling the recessed lights. Anyone out there have info to help me?
Jim
Hi Larry! You are right on about stereotypes! I've met some of the smartest, quickest and least judgmental people on job sites. Just today I was speaking with a painter from Mexico. He has had almost no schooling yet he speaks English perfectly and can write and read in both languages. He taught himself with books and sub-titles. His young son is a budding artist and this makes him (dad) very proud. We have talked about everything from recipes to the prejudices that exist between people of different countries. Smart man! (that shares his delicious Mexican lunches)
Keep on galloping!
Chao! Anna
Jim,
You'll have better luck getting answers in the forum, Breaktime. See the navigation bar above this, just below the logo and click 'Breaktime.' There are lot's of smart carpenters there chomping at the bit to answer questions such as this.
Dan
HELLO LARRY DO YOU THINK AT MY AGE 55 THAT'S ITS TO LATE TO TAKE A CARPENTRY COURSE AND TAKING IT BY MAIL OR CORESPONDENCE COURSE IS GOOD.......I KNOW YOU DONT GET HANDS ON BUT THE LITERATURE IS ALL THERE.......YES OR NO........I HAVE ONE OF YOUR DVD'S ON HOME BUILDING VERY IMFORMATIVE.(framing walls)AND ALSO BASIC CARPENTRY BOOK.............
IF ITS POSSIBLE YOU COULD REPLY AT [email protected]
Larry: In my 40-year career as a carpenter, I have met all kinds of people. Some of them fit the "stereotypical" keep-on-truckin' hard-livers, and others have been bright, intelligent people who clearly enjoyed being alive, working their trade -- regardless of the sweat and heat, or numbing cold and wet. Others filled in the spaces in between. I was very fortunate to have taken a year's worth of union apprenticeship class that Larry taught in Los Angeles County, circa 1974. Not only was he an able teacher, but class discussion often branched out into many other subjects, usually having to do with what it meant to be a carpenter and tradesperson of integrity, even in the dirty, sweaty, high-pressure jobsite environment. Once he brought in slides of his travels to China, just so we could see there was more of a world out there besides the six-pack and tailgate. A man of many interests and talents, Larry showed me what a well-rounded tradesman could be. Thanks, Larry.
I grew up in the heat of the SFV. Of course not as hot as Lancaster or Palm Springs but it could get HOT.
How did you first deal with summer in the SFV??
Maybe the humid heat of the prairie prepared you and it didn't seem so bad.
I joined ZCLA and sorta did a similar thing. Still belong to an affiliate.
Great recollection there!!
I enjoy reading these stories. As I write this I am in Maryland in my severely under insulated rental house with a 30 mph wind blowing. It's maybe 25 degrees outside and snowing. It's bad, but it could be worse. No wool socks Larry, really? I know that must have been rough. I don't know how I could live in my house, much less brave the rigors on exterior carpentry on waterfront properties in the winter without my smart wool socks. I really value what Larry has to say. Any man who can sink a nail like he does should command respect. I must say I've always been horrible at interpreting poetry and the like. Unless I missed the point, I am a little sad to see his conclusion on the meaning of life. I guess when your cold your sole purpose is to find warmth. I have found warmth and love and meaning from the cold world in Jesus alone. If you only live to comfort yourself, when your gone, what good were you? Jesus saves us from ourselves and frees us to live in the light for His good. I believe if we were left to ourselves the outcome would not be pretty. Luckily Jesus came into our world to save us from our sin and show us how much God really loves and cares for us. This awesome example of love, humility and sacrifice compels us to share God's love with those around us. Reflecting God's love and glory for you to feel and see is the point.
Merry Christ-mas!