January 24, 2021
As I write here in WNY, Bills mania is at fever pitch. Their first AFC playoff game since 1994; quarterback Josh Allen wasn’t even born. The game hasn’t started, so I don’t know yet whether to celebrate or mourn. But that’s not why I write or why I’m thankful tonight.
For the past two months, we’ve been working on a ground floor laundry room. Our cellar stairs are steep and we aren’t getting more agile, so it just makes good sense to do it now. Some Amish friends handled the excavation, foundation, and framing work, but when it came time to put in the electrics and plumbing, for obvious reasons I became the man of the hour. That hour stretched into weeks as I strung wire, installed the plumbing, and learned that they couldn’t come back to finish the job in December. So I insulated, hung drywall, taped and mudded the seams, and Linda and I painted. Yesterday I hung the last piece of door trim.
After dinner today, I got the tractor and plowed a path from our driveway all around the house to the new basement entry, and my two sons and a friend provided youthful muscle, moving the washer and dryer to their new home. Most people our age don’t have their grown children living within walking distance. We are blessed that way, and by the fact that they actually enjoy spending time with us. Sunday dinners help, and after today, this may no longer be an accurate statement, but I am thankful tonight for Nate, Matt, and Bob. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photo of them fist-bumping at the conclusion of the job; all I have is a picture of the finished job itself. Thank you, guys, for all your work. And thank you, Lord, for young men willing to do the grunt work for this old man.
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