Holiday Traditions

My family has a rather unique tradition at major holidays.

Whereas some American families eat turkey, watch football, gather to sing songs or watch fireworks, we undertake home remodeling projects. We seem to bond over hammers, nails, sawdust and insulation, long workdays toiling in the mud and dust, attics and outdoor brush. Or perhaps just because it's fun.

I should clarify that when I say "fun" it isn't Disneyland fun, body-surfing fun, going out to hear great music or eat good food or drinking "fun". I do know the difference. This fun is hard, tiring, at times frustrating and painful. No, this is the fun that comes from connecting deeply with another human being, getting to really know that person by working with them, achieving something together, laughing at the mistakes we make and the very paradox and weirdness of finding pleasure in hard work. It is the fun of giving of yourself unconditionally, without reserve or expecting anything back, or receiving that gift from others. It is the fun of knowing someone cares enough about you to give up turkey, football, drinking and fireworks, or the fun of being able to express that kind of caring from someone else.

Here are some examples:

- My brother Pete, my dad and I spending a 15-hour day crawling in my sister's house's crawl-space insulating her floor, then another day in her attic (partially insulated with blown cellulose, to make breathing impossible without dust masks) further insulating it. This was Thanksgiving.

- My brother Ben and his friend spending a couple weeks around Thanksgiving building a modest 12'x24', 2-story 'shed' (think 'garage').

- My brother Pete and my Dad coming over July 4th to clear an acre of thorn bushes (3 days), replace a couple doors, insulate and provide a floor to an attic space (30 hours over 2 days), and paint.

- My brothers Pete and Ben coming over another July 4th to help me finish my 1500 sq foot deck project (2 weeks).

- Me and my ex-wife hand-mixing and pouring concrete two Christmases in a row, one in a light snow with a 1-year old in many layers of blankets in the shelter of the eaves.

- Easter Sunday painting the basement my ex and I had just spent the last 6 months finishing (I guess you could count all the holidays in that 6-month period).

- Christmas driving up to Pete's house to meet him and my sister Debbie, who flew in from Charlotte, to help him remove wallpaper, paint, varnish floors, install stove and washer.

- Christmas driving 1500 miles to move the rest of the stuff from my old house, fix up a few sundry things and get it ready for sale. This was with my renter, Brian, who rapidly became a good friend.

This may sound strange to some, but those are some of my happiest, most meaningful memories. Perhaps it's striving toward a shared goal, facing a challenge together. I don't know, but I genuinely grew closer to those people during those difficult but fun times.

In what is perhaps sub-consciously a test of sorts, I spent a couple days just before and after this past Christmas with my girlfriend building a shelf which covers the entire back wall of my garage: 16'x8'x2'. We planned it together, discussed building techniques, measurements, pros and cons of different approaches. We then bought and hauled the lumber together, built it together, laughed together at our mistakes and accidents (it's no fun unless some blood is shed), hooted at the idea of spending all of Christmas Eve day "partying" by doing this.

We loaded up the shelves and I drove my car into the previously-cluttered garage today.

This is the stuff of life, the stuff that builds and cements a relationship. Regardless of what the future holds for my girlfriend and me, she has become part of my ritual of hard physical labor on holidays, brought me more happiness than she probably knows and given me the best present I know of.