Color My World
The exterior paint is going on. It’s taupe with white trim. As I wrote earlier, the ceiling of the porch “must” be painted sky blue. It’s the rule in the South! The exterior is a slow process. The painter who is painting the outside is a “special” older man who is dear to Dawson, our restoration expert. He should be retired, but he needs to work, and Dawson likes to help him out whenever he can. He said he’s a really fine painter, but he’s very slow. For our project, there is no rush, and he figured out early on that we are easy-to-please, and charitable. So, he saw this was a job this man could do. (The painters who worked on our interior are on other jobs.)
I worry. It’s 90 degrees. He stumbles. He drags his ladder. He was on the upper story by the metal roof, sweat dripping down his face. I asked him if he had plenty of water; he said he did but I never saw him drinking. I kept my eye on him and my charged phone in my pocket. I have a lot of trouble understanding his speech, so I wasn’t sure if I’d recognize any verbal signs of heat stroke. I pray for him. His wife drives him here mid-morning, he sits in the swing for a lunch hour, and she picks him up at four o’clock, so it is a rather short day.
In the next block I saw an old house get new steps and ramp built, siding scraped, and completely repainted in a week, including trim and shutters. Two young men did it. They were already at work when I walked Buddy at 7:30 and were still there when I walked him at 5.
Life does move faster when one is young. There’s the monetary goal, there’s the drive to build a reputation with happy clients, an eye to the future. And that’s a good thing. Life for our painter is in slow motion, winding down. He’s happy to have work, a reason to get up and put on his coveralls, muscle memory from a lifetime of work. His wife needs a reason to pack his sandwich and drive him. Everyone needs a reason. Everyone needs to have his or her talents recognized and appreciated. Everyone needs to have “work.”
He might still be dragging that ladder at the end of the year, but I’m so pleased to be able to be that painter’s reason. And I thank God for Dawson, himself a young man of vigor and drive, who recognizes the old painter’s need and is able to offer him work in a patient and respectful way, and allow us to participate in that blessing.