OPINION:Real life is trendy now

Well, I wasn’t out there on the front porch sculpting a fallen tree or weaving a new carpet. I don’t even call my projects “home improvement” – I’m just trying to stay even. Forget the new carpet; I‘ll be happy if I can keep the old one reasonably clean.

I learned from my parents that it takes some vigilance and considerable elbow grease to keep a house from going downhill. My mother described home maintenance as a circular affair: go around the house fixing everything, and when you get to the end, start over – the stuff you did first will need doing again. “It’s like washing the dishes,” she said. “If you can’t afford a housekeeper, you’d better get used to doing the dishes, because breakfast, lunch, and dinner keep on coming – if you’re lucky.”

“Well,” I grumbled, “you could just have a daughter.” Mother laughed at this sideways reference to my dish-washing chores. I understand now that she was biting her tongue to keep from saying that dishwashing was the least of it.

But somehow I absorbed the idea that one of the great secrets of a happy life lies in discovering the joy of work. My dad got the biggest kick out of being able to do routine maintenance on our furnace. He was over the moon every year when his double-ruffle peonies came up in the spring. I began to see that it could be exciting to surprise yourself by accomplishing things. Like him, perhaps, I gained courage as I went along into adulthood, and before I learned my limitations I tried my hand at lots of tasks: sewing, knitting, upholstering, furniture refinishing. I even tried changing the oil in my car once. (Don’t ask!)

So I had Dad very much on my mind as I scrubbed, dried, patched, sanded and, finally, painted my porch. These things always take longer than I recall, and it was Veterans’ Day weekend; I had planned to go down to Grey Hill for a talk with him, but it was beginning to look as though I wouldn’t make it. “Never mind, honey child,” I heard him say in my ear. “There’s nothing urgent going on down here at the cemetery. You get that porch taken care of before the rains start.”

And then it hit me that I was enjoying myself: listening to the radio, musing about life, and giving my porch a fresh look for the holidays. Nobody will exclaim, “Wow, what a gorgeous porch!” But I’ll smile every time I look at it.

Susan Harper is retired, lives in Commerce and volunteers with the Commerce Public Library and the Jackson County Literacy Program.