For Thursday, October 29, 1998 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 707 words

Barn-raisin' folk

I have a people story to tell you about my grown-up daughter, Kristi, and her husband, Chad. They just bought their first house at exactly the right time and captured the Haley's Comet of interest rates -- that generous and evanescent 6.5-percent. They now pay the same as they were paying in rent, except they own the place. Isn't that swell?

And get this: the whole transaction began as a random conversation we had one day while out wine tasting. It was back when I wrote that story about El Dorado vineyards.

I think the conversation went something like this:

Us (to them): The house you are renting now sucks.

Them (to us): We know.

Us: It's cramped. It's run-down. The yard's too small.

Them: We know. What can we do?

Susan to Kristi: Go out there and buy yourself a house. (A moment later.) Where are the want ads?

On Sunday we all went house hunting.

The kids live up there in Sacramento. Chad's a teacher and Kristi is an environmental engineer. They used to rent a nice house in Rancho Cordova, but the landlady moved them out and moved back in. They relocated a dozen blocks away into a dingy, old house with rattling windows in their guest bedroom, where we stay. Also, the air conditioning, which is essential, whistles through the vent like a deranged banshee all night long, in the guest bedroom, where we stay.

After that weekend, the fire was lit. Susan got the kids excited. She convinced them that buying a house while interest rates were falling was the only sanity. Two weeks later, they found a house they liked for $101,400 back in Rancho. Ironically, over the back fence is the nice house they used to rent. So, they already know the neighborhood and the neighbors.

However, this story isn't about houses, it's about humans, so I better get on with it. When the kids got their house key they immediately called everyone they knew and invited them to a big paint-and-move party. And it worked.

They were not shy about this. They asked for help openly and directly, and a baker's dozen showed up. We painted the house on Saturday and moved all the furniture on Sunday -- lickety-split. By Sunday afternoon we were relaxing on their couch in their living room in their house watching their dogs run happily up and down their yard.

Lots of family dropped by -- us; Chad's dad, Steve; Kristi's long-lost cousin Darren and his sweetheart, Kim; brother Adam. Friends came -- Josh, Chad's best man and vice versa and his lovely wife, Rene; the Wild Wests, Ron and Jane; pal and universal handyman extraordinaire, Brian Duquette.

Each of us took a job: Adam removed all the ceiling-fan blades and taped all fixtures. Kristi and Susan taped plastic across the floors. Darren, Kim Josh and Rene painted walls. Steve did the trim painting. I painted the ceilings. Chad painted everything twice. Brian rebuilt the neglected greenhouse window in the kitchen and made it look new again. Ron and Jane painted both bathrooms, entirely.

We worked to exhaustion both days. We drank out of a cooler in the garage. Some of us who stayed two days used sleeping bags. Our food was brought in and eaten on the floor -- pizzas, burritos, deli sandwiches. We lifted heavy things repeatedly. We got dirty and had no bathroom doors. We listened to local radio out of a tinny portable stereo. My arm hurts now.

While it was happening, and again now while I'm thinking back on it, I see that weekend for what it was -- one of the more rewarding experiences of my life. To see family and friends come together for a good old-fashioned barn raising did my maudlin heart good. To see Kristi and Chad happy about their new house, and so effective at organizing this auspicious gathering of folks, made me a happy pappy. I hope to feel this good again soon.

Come to think of it, I have a shed that needs painted in my backyard. And I've got pine needles, plenty of pine needles. And vines hanging through the fence. And some loose boards.

Hey, where'd everybody go?