Painting The Cemetery Fence
This project would require a lot of energy and brains, so why did they trust me?
I’m on the Board of Directors for the Veale Creek Cemetery Association. It’s a nice two acre cemetery on the end of a creek that feeds into Lake Possum Kingdom. We have an annual meeting in May, and in 2008 the group started discussing painting the fence.
I can’t give exact quotes but my summary is pretty accurate: the secretary read last year’s minutes so we could approve them, gave a report on our checking account balance, and then took questions about where Merle was. Merle brings the brownies and the cooler of Dr Peppers every year. Her whereabouts was a major concern.
Merle was home recovering from a stroke, the secretary reported. She had made quite a bit of improvement. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief - looks like we’ll have brownies and Dr Pepper next year.
A report was given on the status of our historical marker. Seems the state was not too impressed with our collection of verbal accounts given by the old-timers and written down on receipts, envelopes, napkins, and whatever else people had in their pockets at previous meetings about this topic. One of the ladies had actually traveled to libraries and researched accounts! I publicly commended her efforts while inwardly wondering if she was showing off since she was one of the few in our group who is somewhat literate.
Then this one fellow did something unusual for our group. He actually remembered something we had talked about previously. He recalled our kicking around the idea of painting the fence when we had some money in our checking account, and the secretary had just gone over our good finances. Everybody’s face did the two-step changing expressions from “What-a-great-idea!” to “Would-I-have-to-work?” looks of concern.
That’s when the president spoke up. He had gotten bids before from $6,000 to $8,000 but he didn’t know what they’d go up to if we tried again this year.
Two of our members turned over backwards in their lawn chairs. We had to sit on them and bounce to revive their hearts.
As I was bouncing on Abner (being ever careful to bounce lightly so as not to break his ribs because I’m a bit heavy), it occurred to me that I had nephews and nieces who needed college money. They would be coming in for the summer - could they be suckered into this project?
Knowing we were miles away from electricity, I listened to the president talk about sandblasters and spray washers because if we didn’t “…get the old paint off, we might as well not paint it at all.” (I love the south.) He seemed to have us right between the need to paint and preserve on one hand and the need to save eight grand on the other.
I waited for the right amount of hemming and hawing and mosquito swatting. Speaking too quickly would show me to be a young brat trying to butt in. Waiting too long would allow the ones about to fall asleep to get the issue tabled for next year.
I drawled, “I have some nephews and nieces that’d paint it for $4,000 so they could have tuition money this fall.”
I could hear the mental gears around me clicking. Here was a bid $2,000 under what they’d gotten before but $4,000 more than they wanted to spend – yet it was for the kids! I knew I had ‘em – nobody can resist innocent children, right? I remembered an old golden rule of debate; never go against the guy who has pets or children as props. And after all, the attending members wouldn’t have to do the work!
Then the obligatory questions started. When could we get to it? It’d have to be July. Yes, Einstein, it will be hot then, thank you. No, I don’t own a pressure washer. (And I don’t plan to since there’s no water here, see…) I left with the assurance that they’d get back to me and really disappointed Merle hadn’t scheduled her stroke until after the meeting. After all, we only meet once a year.
To her credit, the secretary jumped on this chance to avoid physical labor herself and got the whole thing set up. She got the rest of the board’s approval, set up an account at the over-yonder local-yocal hardware store, bought the paint, and hauled it to her porch where she covered it with a tarp.
Then it was my turn. I assembled quite a team! Tyler, a six-foot-four collegiate baseball player, was the unmatched physical specimen. I knew he’d be handy for painting the flag pole. Scott, a future Aggie who spent summers doing landscaping, was used to the heat but couldn’t figure out how to read his email to know when the work would start. Lyndan, Miss Perfect College Student, was our spark plug. Her “can do!” attitude would be vital if we could just keep her from passing out in the heat like she had done several times in recent years. Aaron, Mr. I.Q., was a question mark. I’d never seen him do physical labor, but money is very persuasive and he wanted in to be with his cousins. Sawyer (UIL medal winner, marching band quads drummer, and pickup dome light book reader) was told by his parents that he’d be there. Leah (punt, pass, and kick winner in Texas Stadium and the quarterback of her Florida high school girl’s football team) is just crazy so she was a natural. But all of us did a double-take when Darcy decided to come. What? That’s right! Miss I-Don’t-Sweat-Or-Work saw all of these cousins heading off to the ole lake cabin without her and her little heart was just over come with love! Or grief! Or something…
An eclectic group like this would need lots of supervision. I arranged a trade-off with my wife so I could go. Then Weldon said he’d be there. That was good because I knew he’d be a great restaurant scout. (He had suffered a heart attack the previous fall and should not have been out in the heat, but he took care of himself by sitting in my truck and running the air conditioner while we worked.) Nolan committed verbally, then conveniently found a job after being unemployed for seven months. Clint said he had interviews that could not be missed, and Joe just laughed at the idea from the start.
After arranging food details with Grandmommy and various aunts, we picked a date and started the rendezvous. We ended up needing an extra vehicle to haul people and “stuff.” The back of my pickup had enough room for extra passengers, I think, but the July heat just seemed to suck the spirit of volunteerism out of this idea. Swim trunks, paint brushes, ladders, carpet strips, Gatorade, and a generator were among the tons of cargo we planned to need and that didn’t even include Sawyer’s book.
I knew part of this trip would be worthwhile when the other vehicle stopped at the Sonic in Graham for a last taste of civilization before our days of upcoming slavery. The ice cream was cold, the company was funny, and the girls hiked to a nearby restaurant for a potty break.
After driving down to the ole cabin and unloading, we were joined by the delegation from Abilene and our work party was complete. I deemed it appropriate to have our first power conference. Holding a gigantic fried chicken thigh in one hand, I commenced to eat and inspire the troops in a way that would have made Patton proud. We laughed. We cried. We despaired when I told them what time the alarm would go off in the morning. Most importantly, I made the official announcement that the three non-collegiates were not getting paid for their endeavors! To their credit, they stayed on and helped anyway. Of course, none of them were old enough to drive and they had no idea how to get out of there anyway…
The plan of attack was simple. Most of us would take drills with wire brush attachments. Powered by the generator, these drills would scrape off the old paint and when we were several sections ahead, we’d have the second crew start painting. We started in a corner far away from the main entrance so the majority of traffic would not see where we learned by doing. The generator cranked, we started spinning four drills, and I dispatched Weldon and a crew to go get the paint.
It didn’t take all morning to realize I had seriously missed the amount of time needed to scrape. It was July, but if we had continued that plan the snows of December would have fallen on us. Fortunately, our friend David had told Clint about a wonderful product that brushes on and removes old paint and rust overnight. If ever there was a time to try, facing these 80 miles of fence was it! So Weldon took off for the local-yocal hardware store and we finished up the first morning’s shift with drills. We took forever to scrape a fourth of one side of fence, and spirits were down. Weldon returned, and we delegated a few to apply the rust remover on one section for us to observe the next day.
At lunchtime, we called a halt. The heat had officially hit “awful,” so the plan called for afternoon swimming and siestas back at the cabin. All of our meals had been planned so we could pull items out of the icebox, eat from disposable utensils, and put the foods back in the fridge with no heating beforehand or dish-washing afterwards. This had the added benefit of saving the crew from some of my famous cooking concoctions. While swimming, I amazed my nieces with a visual explanation of why the moon affects tides on both sides of the planet at the same time. They were stupefied.
It was Wednesday so we cleaned up and changed in time to make supper in Graham before attending worship service at the Hillside Church Of Christ. It was easy for all of us to get there in time because Sawyer misread the analog clock and told everyone it was 4:55 when it was only 3:55. I’ll have to try that sometime myself because it’s the only time I’ve seen a group that size get ready for Bible class in 30 minutes. Afterwards, we drove the quarter mile to the Dairy Queen and Sawyer, true to form, asked for the dome light so he could read half a page on the way.
Back at the cabin, I seized the moment of energy that I knew we would not have the next night and asked the group if they wanted to go snake hunting. It was way too late, but the lure of adventure was overwhelming and everyone piled in. We got the tongs and a shovel just in case and drove to a deserted little two-lane blacktop that leading nowhere. We were enjoying the beautiful stars and great music on the radio when lo-and-behold if there wasn’t a four-foot rattler lying in the right lane! I got the headlights on it and managed to ask Scott why he was running up to it when Tyler didn’t have the tongs yet. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t get away!” came the future Aggie’s reply. Uh, okay Scott! Tyler finally joined him, got the snake with the tongs and held it while Scott beheaded it; they posed for camera-phone photos standing on the center stripe. Texas is such a great place…
Thursday morning was the ultimate. Boosted by our hunting success of the previous night, we checked the fence and deemed the primer/rust remover was working! The Hallelujah Chorus could not have sounded better than our hoorays that morning – no more drills! In that one day, we got slightly more than half of the project done. It was a tad tricky going around the outhouse, but as the ole restroom graffiti says, “No job is complete without the paperwork.” The highlight of this day for me was on the long backstretch when all of us were working in earshot of each other and we started improvising appropriate fence-painting lyrics to classic gospel songs. “Amazing paint, how strong the fumes, that makes my eyes not see!” and similar lines had us laughing deep-belly laughs while painting like a scene from Tom Sawyer.
We returned in the evening to race the rain. What? Rain? In July? But sure enough it was coming. We dispatched Tyler and Scott to take my truck to the flagpole and rig up whatever they needed to get a first coat on it. We have a photo of the ladder in the truck held by Scott while Tyler stood on top holding a brush duct-taped to the end of an extension pole. Mercy. The flagpole was Weldon’s idea, so I’ll blame the thousands of specks of white paint covering my brown truck on him. I certainly never mentioned the flag pole at our cemetery meeting. I may plan massive projects in July’s heat, but my craziness has limits! Weldon’s does not, however, but to their credit, Tyler and Scott got an amazing job done. Meanwhile, Joe, Lisa, and Nolan pulled in to check out our work and did not lift a single finger to help. I know what they were thinking – every project needs good managers. Anyway, they joined us for delicious chicken fried steaks at a restaurant on the lake.
We had to hustle the pace on Friday, but the bottom line is we got it done. We learned that paint mitts don’t hold up to wrought iron made in the 1870s, that all colors of Gatorade taste the same when you are boiling in July’s oven, and that mineral spirits will not get all the paint out of Darcy’s hair. I told my wife how impressed I was with this group of young ‘uns I assembled; despite the alarm clock to beat the heat, despite the thirst and the thorns, despite the leg cramps and the blisters, not once did Weldon or I hear a complaint. These kids are special. I love ‘em.
But we did outlaw the word “project” for awhile and replaced it with “Character Building Activities” (CBAs). When it was time to pay them, Tyler requested his in the form of one dollar bills. It is the only time in my life a teller had to go to the vault for my transaction.
The paint job passed the inspection of the secretary, we made some photos of the crew dressed in the actual working garb, and the legacy of these kids continues to grow. I wonder what project the association will want done at next May’s meeting? I suspect I may conveniently be at Merle’s cooler loading up and miss my moment to volunteer…
I’m on the Board of Directors for the Veale Creek Cemetery Association. It’s a nice two acre cemetery on the end of a creek that feeds into Lake Possum Kingdom. We have an annual meeting in May, and in 2008 the group started discussing painting the fence.
I can’t give exact quotes but my summary is pretty accurate: the secretary read last year’s minutes so we could approve them, gave a report on our checking account balance, and then took questions about where Merle was. Merle brings the brownies and the cooler of Dr Peppers every year. Her whereabouts was a major concern.
Merle was home recovering from a stroke, the secretary reported. She had made quite a bit of improvement. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief - looks like we’ll have brownies and Dr Pepper next year.
A report was given on the status of our historical marker. Seems the state was not too impressed with our collection of verbal accounts given by the old-timers and written down on receipts, envelopes, napkins, and whatever else people had in their pockets at previous meetings about this topic. One of the ladies had actually traveled to libraries and researched accounts! I publicly commended her efforts while inwardly wondering if she was showing off since she was one of the few in our group who is somewhat literate.
Then this one fellow did something unusual for our group. He actually remembered something we had talked about previously. He recalled our kicking around the idea of painting the fence when we had some money in our checking account, and the secretary had just gone over our good finances. Everybody’s face did the two-step changing expressions from “What-a-great-idea!” to “Would-I-have-to-work?” looks of concern.
That’s when the president spoke up. He had gotten bids before from $6,000 to $8,000 but he didn’t know what they’d go up to if we tried again this year.
Two of our members turned over backwards in their lawn chairs. We had to sit on them and bounce to revive their hearts.
As I was bouncing on Abner (being ever careful to bounce lightly so as not to break his ribs because I’m a bit heavy), it occurred to me that I had nephews and nieces who needed college money. They would be coming in for the summer - could they be suckered into this project?
Knowing we were miles away from electricity, I listened to the president talk about sandblasters and spray washers because if we didn’t “…get the old paint off, we might as well not paint it at all.” (I love the south.) He seemed to have us right between the need to paint and preserve on one hand and the need to save eight grand on the other.
I waited for the right amount of hemming and hawing and mosquito swatting. Speaking too quickly would show me to be a young brat trying to butt in. Waiting too long would allow the ones about to fall asleep to get the issue tabled for next year.
I drawled, “I have some nephews and nieces that’d paint it for $4,000 so they could have tuition money this fall.”
I could hear the mental gears around me clicking. Here was a bid $2,000 under what they’d gotten before but $4,000 more than they wanted to spend – yet it was for the kids! I knew I had ‘em – nobody can resist innocent children, right? I remembered an old golden rule of debate; never go against the guy who has pets or children as props. And after all, the attending members wouldn’t have to do the work!
Then the obligatory questions started. When could we get to it? It’d have to be July. Yes, Einstein, it will be hot then, thank you. No, I don’t own a pressure washer. (And I don’t plan to since there’s no water here, see…) I left with the assurance that they’d get back to me and really disappointed Merle hadn’t scheduled her stroke until after the meeting. After all, we only meet once a year.
To her credit, the secretary jumped on this chance to avoid physical labor herself and got the whole thing set up. She got the rest of the board’s approval, set up an account at the over-yonder local-yocal hardware store, bought the paint, and hauled it to her porch where she covered it with a tarp.
Then it was my turn. I assembled quite a team! Tyler, a six-foot-four collegiate baseball player, was the unmatched physical specimen. I knew he’d be handy for painting the flag pole. Scott, a future Aggie who spent summers doing landscaping, was used to the heat but couldn’t figure out how to read his email to know when the work would start. Lyndan, Miss Perfect College Student, was our spark plug. Her “can do!” attitude would be vital if we could just keep her from passing out in the heat like she had done several times in recent years. Aaron, Mr. I.Q., was a question mark. I’d never seen him do physical labor, but money is very persuasive and he wanted in to be with his cousins. Sawyer (UIL medal winner, marching band quads drummer, and pickup dome light book reader) was told by his parents that he’d be there. Leah (punt, pass, and kick winner in Texas Stadium and the quarterback of her Florida high school girl’s football team) is just crazy so she was a natural. But all of us did a double-take when Darcy decided to come. What? That’s right! Miss I-Don’t-Sweat-Or-Work saw all of these cousins heading off to the ole lake cabin without her and her little heart was just over come with love! Or grief! Or something…
An eclectic group like this would need lots of supervision. I arranged a trade-off with my wife so I could go. Then Weldon said he’d be there. That was good because I knew he’d be a great restaurant scout. (He had suffered a heart attack the previous fall and should not have been out in the heat, but he took care of himself by sitting in my truck and running the air conditioner while we worked.) Nolan committed verbally, then conveniently found a job after being unemployed for seven months. Clint said he had interviews that could not be missed, and Joe just laughed at the idea from the start.
After arranging food details with Grandmommy and various aunts, we picked a date and started the rendezvous. We ended up needing an extra vehicle to haul people and “stuff.” The back of my pickup had enough room for extra passengers, I think, but the July heat just seemed to suck the spirit of volunteerism out of this idea. Swim trunks, paint brushes, ladders, carpet strips, Gatorade, and a generator were among the tons of cargo we planned to need and that didn’t even include Sawyer’s book.
I knew part of this trip would be worthwhile when the other vehicle stopped at the Sonic in Graham for a last taste of civilization before our days of upcoming slavery. The ice cream was cold, the company was funny, and the girls hiked to a nearby restaurant for a potty break.
After driving down to the ole cabin and unloading, we were joined by the delegation from Abilene and our work party was complete. I deemed it appropriate to have our first power conference. Holding a gigantic fried chicken thigh in one hand, I commenced to eat and inspire the troops in a way that would have made Patton proud. We laughed. We cried. We despaired when I told them what time the alarm would go off in the morning. Most importantly, I made the official announcement that the three non-collegiates were not getting paid for their endeavors! To their credit, they stayed on and helped anyway. Of course, none of them were old enough to drive and they had no idea how to get out of there anyway…
The plan of attack was simple. Most of us would take drills with wire brush attachments. Powered by the generator, these drills would scrape off the old paint and when we were several sections ahead, we’d have the second crew start painting. We started in a corner far away from the main entrance so the majority of traffic would not see where we learned by doing. The generator cranked, we started spinning four drills, and I dispatched Weldon and a crew to go get the paint.
It didn’t take all morning to realize I had seriously missed the amount of time needed to scrape. It was July, but if we had continued that plan the snows of December would have fallen on us. Fortunately, our friend David had told Clint about a wonderful product that brushes on and removes old paint and rust overnight. If ever there was a time to try, facing these 80 miles of fence was it! So Weldon took off for the local-yocal hardware store and we finished up the first morning’s shift with drills. We took forever to scrape a fourth of one side of fence, and spirits were down. Weldon returned, and we delegated a few to apply the rust remover on one section for us to observe the next day.
At lunchtime, we called a halt. The heat had officially hit “awful,” so the plan called for afternoon swimming and siestas back at the cabin. All of our meals had been planned so we could pull items out of the icebox, eat from disposable utensils, and put the foods back in the fridge with no heating beforehand or dish-washing afterwards. This had the added benefit of saving the crew from some of my famous cooking concoctions. While swimming, I amazed my nieces with a visual explanation of why the moon affects tides on both sides of the planet at the same time. They were stupefied.
It was Wednesday so we cleaned up and changed in time to make supper in Graham before attending worship service at the Hillside Church Of Christ. It was easy for all of us to get there in time because Sawyer misread the analog clock and told everyone it was 4:55 when it was only 3:55. I’ll have to try that sometime myself because it’s the only time I’ve seen a group that size get ready for Bible class in 30 minutes. Afterwards, we drove the quarter mile to the Dairy Queen and Sawyer, true to form, asked for the dome light so he could read half a page on the way.
Back at the cabin, I seized the moment of energy that I knew we would not have the next night and asked the group if they wanted to go snake hunting. It was way too late, but the lure of adventure was overwhelming and everyone piled in. We got the tongs and a shovel just in case and drove to a deserted little two-lane blacktop that leading nowhere. We were enjoying the beautiful stars and great music on the radio when lo-and-behold if there wasn’t a four-foot rattler lying in the right lane! I got the headlights on it and managed to ask Scott why he was running up to it when Tyler didn’t have the tongs yet. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t get away!” came the future Aggie’s reply. Uh, okay Scott! Tyler finally joined him, got the snake with the tongs and held it while Scott beheaded it; they posed for camera-phone photos standing on the center stripe. Texas is such a great place…
Thursday morning was the ultimate. Boosted by our hunting success of the previous night, we checked the fence and deemed the primer/rust remover was working! The Hallelujah Chorus could not have sounded better than our hoorays that morning – no more drills! In that one day, we got slightly more than half of the project done. It was a tad tricky going around the outhouse, but as the ole restroom graffiti says, “No job is complete without the paperwork.” The highlight of this day for me was on the long backstretch when all of us were working in earshot of each other and we started improvising appropriate fence-painting lyrics to classic gospel songs. “Amazing paint, how strong the fumes, that makes my eyes not see!” and similar lines had us laughing deep-belly laughs while painting like a scene from Tom Sawyer.
We returned in the evening to race the rain. What? Rain? In July? But sure enough it was coming. We dispatched Tyler and Scott to take my truck to the flagpole and rig up whatever they needed to get a first coat on it. We have a photo of the ladder in the truck held by Scott while Tyler stood on top holding a brush duct-taped to the end of an extension pole. Mercy. The flagpole was Weldon’s idea, so I’ll blame the thousands of specks of white paint covering my brown truck on him. I certainly never mentioned the flag pole at our cemetery meeting. I may plan massive projects in July’s heat, but my craziness has limits! Weldon’s does not, however, but to their credit, Tyler and Scott got an amazing job done. Meanwhile, Joe, Lisa, and Nolan pulled in to check out our work and did not lift a single finger to help. I know what they were thinking – every project needs good managers. Anyway, they joined us for delicious chicken fried steaks at a restaurant on the lake.
We had to hustle the pace on Friday, but the bottom line is we got it done. We learned that paint mitts don’t hold up to wrought iron made in the 1870s, that all colors of Gatorade taste the same when you are boiling in July’s oven, and that mineral spirits will not get all the paint out of Darcy’s hair. I told my wife how impressed I was with this group of young ‘uns I assembled; despite the alarm clock to beat the heat, despite the thirst and the thorns, despite the leg cramps and the blisters, not once did Weldon or I hear a complaint. These kids are special. I love ‘em.
But we did outlaw the word “project” for awhile and replaced it with “Character Building Activities” (CBAs). When it was time to pay them, Tyler requested his in the form of one dollar bills. It is the only time in my life a teller had to go to the vault for my transaction.
The paint job passed the inspection of the secretary, we made some photos of the crew dressed in the actual working garb, and the legacy of these kids continues to grow. I wonder what project the association will want done at next May’s meeting? I suspect I may conveniently be at Merle’s cooler loading up and miss my moment to volunteer…