Son of a Carpenter

My Father left high school to join the army during World War II. He built our first house on a dirt road in Rock Wood Michigan. He constructed the basement with cement blocks, carrying every block down to the floor, and building the walls by himself. The same is true for the rest of the house. I remember when he bought a router to build the kitchen cabinets. It was a very exciting day for him. My Dad built this house in his spare time after work and on weekends. I remember my brother and I shining the hardwood floors in the living room by sliding a bath towels. I was 4 years old.

He built our second house on a dirt road in Flat Rock Michigan. Again it was after work and on weekends. My Father was a construction carpenter for a company that no longer exists. For extra money he would dig graves with a pick and shovel. I went with him once or twice and could not help but notice one shovel that had a square blade. It was to keep the sides straight and square. Back then the houses were made of solid wood. Each board secured to the other with a hammer and nail. No nail guns, no plywood.

My Father retired from the factory job after twenty years and received a small pension. The day of my high school graduation party, he, my mother, and younger brother moved to Mancelona Michigan to a 100 year old farm house on a dirt road.  He gutted the house and rebuilt it in his spare time and on weekends while commuting from Flat Rock. I stayed behind to go to school in Detroit. After six months of school, I joined the Army and went to Vietnam as a helicopter pilot.

My Father built his fourth house at the base of the hill from the farm house. He built it like the others in his spare time, on weekends, after his bridge construction job.

That was the last house that he built, but he did move two more times. Once to a house with a large vegetable garden that he and my Mom tended to after work and on weekends. They sold produce for extra income and canned vegetables for themselves.

His current house is in a wooded community near a lake.

Yes, I am the son of a carpenter and the only time I walked on water is when we went ice fishing.