I drive up to Gary’s home about 11AM. The house looks pretty good from the outside, but it has been almost three years since Katrina. Gary is sitting in a chair in his front yard watching the volunteer crew work. It looks like both he and the work crew perk up as I pull up into his drive way.
Gary is a really happy guy with no good reason other than he is still alive. I hope I can find that strength to laugh, to engage people, to talk when I’m carrying a heavy burden inside.
I guess Gary is in his late 60’s, it’s hard to tell. His health does not appear the best. (Later walking into his house, the smell tells me that he is a heavy smoker. Prescription bottles litter the table in his living room.)
“Mr. Gary, that siding looks really good. Somebody did a really good job.”
As I say this a really large, satisfied smile grows on his face.
“You know, that siding was done by the Mennonites. They told me it was the first time they had installed siding. “
I walk around outside, looking at the edges and window fit in more detail.
“Well, the Mennonites have a good reputation for building houses, I’m not surprised. It looks like a fine job.”
“It was done over a year and a half ago.”
While he is talking, I am mentally going through my checklist from the work-site manager over what we have to do here. I know there is a floor to install, some painting and replacing a column on his carport. I’m here because we need to install his kitchen floor and the crew is nervous about it.
A large roll of sheet vinyl lies on the pavement of carport. All I can think is when was the last time I saw sheet vinyl installed? I am not sure I’ve ever done it but I do remember some issues about how easy it is to tear, how hard it is to make a good seam, and how once you cut it too short you are up the creek. Uneasily I go into the house to check out the kitchen floor.
None of the crew or the work-site manager say anything. They just look at me expectantly, as if they are reading my doubts. Mr. Gary is looking at me too, and smiling. He seems to be project a confidence in me, as if I had an expertise that I plainly do not feel I have.
I look at the floor for a few minutes, revisiting those few painful things about vinyl, first the floor has to be spotlessly clean. The least little particle left behind reveals a distinct pimple in the vinyl if it is not removed. Crevices between subfloor, nail heads, anything will eventually show up as a mar in the surface. It is easy to tear. The troweling of the contact adhesive is a messy job. I am not looking forward to this one.
“Let’s get some measurements and see how the kitchen lays out on the vinyl. We are going to have to cut it, roll it up and carefully lay it down on the floor to check its fit. We may have to trim some more after that.”
I am looking for something to delay all this. I use my tape again to get the floor dimensions between cabinets, range, refrigerator and doors. Doing this again, I see that the lauan plywood that had been laid down as a subfloor for the vinyl was nailed with smooth-shank nails. Even now some of the nails not well seated are creeping up as the plywood flexed.
“I thought I said to use ring-shank nails, or even screws? These nails are going to have to be sistered with ring-shank nails, every nail head be well seated, and if necessary covered with leveling compound.”
There are no ring-shank nails, or screws on site and the leveling compound is partially dried out. I’ll need to go to the homebuilders’ supply store and get the nails and fresh compound. I put the crew to work nailing down the emerging nail heads in the plywood and head outside to the store.
After I get back with the nails and leveling compound I get them started on that. Now I have to tackle the vinyl on his concrete driveway. I measure and lay out the lines with blue masking tape.
Confused about one measurement, I keep repeating, “measure twice, cut once” as I walk back to the kitchen. It sounds like something an experienced pro would say.
Well then I saw this new fellow looking into the kitchen doorway besides Mr. Gary. He didn’t say much but Mr. Gary was smiling beside him.
One thing I learned a long time ago, when you are doing this kind of construction work and someone with some experience drops by to look in, you get a lot of information from comments or facial expressions. You usually get it fast.
“Mr. Henry, this is Edward, he did the plumbing and electrical work for free. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Mr. Gary’s expression changed after Edward’s visit. He seems even more respectful and friendly towards me.
“Yes, Mr. Henry, you’re going to give me a nice floor. I can tell.”
Of course this just raises the ante for me, puts a little more pressure on me. I keep thinking if those nails come up later, it’s my fault.
“Now Mr. Gary, I’ll do my best but I can’t promise anything but what I can do.”
“Mr. Henry, I just want my kitchen floor. I know you’ll do a good job; there isn’t anyone else around to do it. Do you think we can get the stove back installed today? I know you are going to do a fine job.”
“Well, Mr. Gary, I think I want to lay out these lines and see how we are doing. Also after the crew finished re-nailing we are going to want to apply some leveling compound to fill in the low spots. We want to let the compound dry.”
By this time it was after 4:30PM. I knew the leveling compound wouldn’t set soon enough for us to sand, sweep and vacuum today. Plus the one chance I have to cut that vinyl was still worrying me.
“Mr. Gary, I think we need to let the leveling compound set until tomorrow, to be safe.”
“OK, if you say so Mr. Henry.”
“Mr. Gary, we will get it all set up and lay the floor tomorrow morning. Is that OK with you.”
Yes, Mr. Henry, you’re in charge, I know you’ll do a good job.”
He said that with such confidence that it only increases my discomfort.
During the late evening at my trailer, I find one of my reference books. Vinyl floors.
“Of course! The paper template.”
My book says carefully lay out, cut and tape Kraft paper on the kitchen floor to form a template, them roll it up and transfer the layout to the unrolled vinyl.
On the way back the next morning I stop by the builders’ supply store and buy a roll of Kraft paper and masking tape. We lay out and cut the paper template, carefully taping it so we can transfer the outline to the vinyl. If we mess it up it is going to be my fault.
Finally I have to take my knife in hand and with the help of my crew cut out the pattern. As I cut the vinyl I can tell how soft and resilient it is, how it is going to be a nice slightly cushioned floor. And, on top of that the ceramic tile pattern is remarkably realistic. This is going to be a nice floor. If I do not mess it up.
I kept delaying the final step. I asked the crew to sweep and vacuum the floor twice. Then I went over it carefully. Finally, I had to move on.
“Let’s roll it up and see how well it fits the kitchen.”
No one objects. When we unroll it I realize I’ve used the wrong dimension to the door left about 15 inches excess. Thank goodness everything else but the looks ok, but I will have to cut the curved pattern of the door just before we glue.
“OK, I guess we roll it up and take it outside so I can trim this long edge.”
All this time I’m thinking every time we roll and unroll this vinyl we risk a tear. It could be 100 degrees outside by the way I am sweating heavily from the stress.
Finally, I have no choice but to cut the long edge.
“OK, let’s roll it up. We will place the rolled vinyl down, trowel the adhesive and unroll, and then gradually troweling and unroll a few feet at a time working our way across the room. One of you needs to use the roller behind us to ensure the glued vinyl makes good contact and squeegee any wrinkles as we go.”
By this time it’s close to five in the afternoon. The crew is supposed to fix dinner at camp tonight for the 6:30 dinnertime. It is a 40 minute drive back. I look at the crew leader who is staring at me. Mr. Gary is sitting in his chair the living room but is listening with a keen ear to our deliberation. It is an obvious decision. We send back all the crew as the team leader says to me that we’ll work until we are done. I nod my assent.
Mr. Gary stands and walks to the doorway watching us trowel, unroll a little and wait the designated 10-20 minutes and start again until we are done.
“It surely looks nice, Mr. Henry.”
“Mr. Gary this is a beautiful floor. I sure hope our nailing is ok. “
Mr. Gary’s smile is beaming.
“Mr. Henry, you’ve done well. I’m sure it is OK. It’s been almost three years since I’ve had a kitchen. Say, do you think I can walk on it now?”
“Well, I’d think I’d want to give it about 24 hours to set. What about tomorrow evening?”
I can see his disappointment.
“Oh, I want to brig my grandchildren over to see it! Do you think it would be ok? I guess I can just keep them off it and let them look.”
“I’m not so sure, Mr. Gary, we need to let the glue set a little.”
I stand there listening to this, thinking how happy he is, how something a straightforward as a new kitchen is so great an emotional achievement in Mr. Gary’s life. Right now his greatest joy is for his grandchildren to see this fine, new floor.
I relent.
“Mr. Gary, I guess if you are really careful and don’t let them walk on it very much it will be fine to show it off to night.”
“Don’t worry, it might be 7:30PM before thy can get over here.”
We pack up our tools and toss all of the debris cluttering his carport them into my truck, leaving carport clear and clean. Mr. Gary and I shake hands and exchange good byes.
”Mr. Henry, tonight is the first time since Katrina that I can park my car in the carport.”
All the way back to Gulfport I’m thinking how something as simple as a new floor, the expectation of a working kitchen tomorrow and a clean carport can be such a great joy to give someone.
I’m thinking how true it is that for these surge-stricken people. They measure the context of their life in time “after Katrina, ” as what ever happened previously pales in significance.
And then I realize between a tear or two how true this measurement is for me.
God bless such gentle spirits as Mr. Gary.
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