Today Tom Sawyer

 Four weeks ago I was at a resort running a high level retreat for CEOs, athletes and political types. Three weeks ago I was in Florida directing a large corporate annual meeting. Two weeks ago I was directing a remote crew in London for an interview between a CEO and a noted historian. And last week I was directing a sales conference, an orientation for a firm's 800 summer interns, and an event sponsored by a financial company aimed at high level lawyers. 

Today I am painting a fence.

When Tom Sawyer responded to Ben with "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" he had a different goal than me. He was goading Ben into taking over his chore (and getting Ben's apple). My mission was merely to paint the fence in time for some weekend visitors. Still, after a month of high pressure, high stress projects, I would agree with Tom's assessment if not his motive.

To be accurate the fence was less a fence than a privacy screen I had installed a bunch of years back. I had fabricated two segments, one on each end of our deck, with the goal of screening those particular lines of sight to the neighbors. Not that either was that close to us or that they spent any time staring at our space. The screen itself was not solid, but rather made of wooden lattice with some decorative hangings on it. Rather than seal us in it gave us a little more solitude when relaxing in the backyard.

When I created it I also stained it, and it had subsequently been repainted when we had the entire house done. All was fine until earlier this spring when a large tree from the neighbor's yard crashed down in a windstorm. It bounced off our roof, ripping some shingles, trashing part of the gutter and destroying a segment of the deck railing. And yes, one section of my carpentry project was smashed to bits. 

Over several weeks we got the tree removed, the shingles repaired and the gutter replaced. Some talented carpenters rebuilt the destroyed deck. They also carefully examined the undamaged section of my DIY screen and faithfully reproduced a new one to match, albeit with much better workmanship. When done, save for a tear in a screen door and a dent on one side of the grill, you would be hard pressed to know that anything ever happened.

Except the new lattice and railing were raw wood and pale as my legs after winter. The guys who built it said it had to season a bit before we finished it. Give it a month, they said, then it could be painted. Those weeks had passed, and we had invited some friends over for a summer get together, hopefully on the deck. And so it was time to put the finishing touches on the reconstructed segment.

I put on some old clothes, found a can of stain in the garage and grabbed a brush. I plugged my phone into a speaker, dialed up some tunes and set to work. The nice thing about painting raw wood outside is that you don't need to be a professional. A litle drip here, a splatter there, it makes no difference. The worst you can do is drip on the existing deck in the same color: a quick swipe with a rag or brush and the splotch blends right in. After a month of jobs involving budgeting, coordinating, preparing paperwork, teams and precise execution, this was the polar opposite. And highly welcome.  

I started at the top corner and worked my way across and, then down. I picked where I wanted to go next with no consultation. No one shadowed me, no one second guessed me, no one asked when overtime would kick in, if we had approval to do it that way, or needed a vegan meal. I stopped when I wanted to, sang along loudly to the songs I liked, and steadily proceeded to finish one side. than the other. 

When I was done, I stood back and looked at the result of my work. There were a few drips here, small brush strokes there. I was covered in sweat, and had stains on my hands and arms. My tee shirt had as many splotches as the pachysandra below the deck, and I would have to even out the railing on a second pass. But on balance it was a task started and completed with no supervision nor clients to answer to, with a passable result. Tom once again: "Well I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" Mine was more of a dark oak color vs. white, but other than that, I'd have to agree. Even without the apple.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford doesn't mind doing chores that that have a start and an end. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.