Laying Down The Corner Stone
Some people have such a profound impact on your life that they change the course of your life. My father-in-law, Jim, opened my eyes to many aspects of life, one being an appreciation for old homes and learning the craft it takes to bring one back to life.
When we purchased our first house, it was a run-down piece o crap. But it was a house we could afford--and Jim said he would help me "fix it up." Jim's home was a spectacular Victorian that he completely restored on his own, so how could I go wrong?
Jim and I spent the next five or six years restoring this home. And over the course of those years, we got to know each other on a more personal level. I began to not only appreciate his skill as a person who could do anything he put his mind to, but also as a patient teacher and mentor--who seemed willing to put up with this novice's lack of skill so long as I gave it a good effort.
When we outgrew our home, and we looked for another to fix up, I recall sitting with Jim in the living room of what would become our next home--an 1881 Italianate--and asking him if he thought we could bring this home back to life. Nothing was impossible for Jim. "Sure," I recall him saying..."we can do it." And so we took the plunge.
The home was a disaster--in the beginning: Stripped of most of its architectural details, and covered over in layers of asphalt siding and stucco, it was a home that needed a tremendous amount of work to bring it back.
One defining element of Italianates are quoins--faux cornerstones, often made of wood. And sure enough, when the asphalt and stucco were removed, one could see the faint outline of the missing quoins...One day, I thought, these will be replaced.
As a retired Colonel in the Marine Corp (serving as a pilot in WWII, Korea, andVietnam), it became easy to see why so many who served under Jim said he was a man of conviction, a man of honor, a man of integrity. But I never new Jim as a Colonel. I new Jim as a man I admired as being "true" in every sense of the word. Some may think it odd, but my father-in-law, became my best friend. I would have followed him anywhere.
We lost Jim this past July to cancer, but it is odd how I catch myself thinking of him while working away on the house. This past weekend, it was time to replace the last quoin. I again thought of Jim and how he brought me to this point. I started to place the quoin on the home and then pulled it back--and took it into the shop.
On the quoin I carved the following:
Dedicated To:
James W. Dillon
1881-2005 PW-PD
...And placed the cornerstone on our home.
When we purchased our first house, it was a run-down piece o crap. But it was a house we could afford--and Jim said he would help me "fix it up." Jim's home was a spectacular Victorian that he completely restored on his own, so how could I go wrong?
Jim and I spent the next five or six years restoring this home. And over the course of those years, we got to know each other on a more personal level. I began to not only appreciate his skill as a person who could do anything he put his mind to, but also as a patient teacher and mentor--who seemed willing to put up with this novice's lack of skill so long as I gave it a good effort.
When we outgrew our home, and we looked for another to fix up, I recall sitting with Jim in the living room of what would become our next home--an 1881 Italianate--and asking him if he thought we could bring this home back to life. Nothing was impossible for Jim. "Sure," I recall him saying..."we can do it." And so we took the plunge.
The home was a disaster--in the beginning: Stripped of most of its architectural details, and covered over in layers of asphalt siding and stucco, it was a home that needed a tremendous amount of work to bring it back.
One defining element of Italianates are quoins--faux cornerstones, often made of wood. And sure enough, when the asphalt and stucco were removed, one could see the faint outline of the missing quoins...One day, I thought, these will be replaced.
As a retired Colonel in the Marine Corp (serving as a pilot in WWII, Korea, andVietnam), it became easy to see why so many who served under Jim said he was a man of conviction, a man of honor, a man of integrity. But I never new Jim as a Colonel. I new Jim as a man I admired as being "true" in every sense of the word. Some may think it odd, but my father-in-law, became my best friend. I would have followed him anywhere.
We lost Jim this past July to cancer, but it is odd how I catch myself thinking of him while working away on the house. This past weekend, it was time to replace the last quoin. I again thought of Jim and how he brought me to this point. I started to place the quoin on the home and then pulled it back--and took it into the shop.
On the quoin I carved the following:
Dedicated To:
James W. Dillon
1881-2005 PW-PD
...And placed the cornerstone on our home.
posted by Patrick at 6:36 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home