It's Labor Day. I'm sitting in my upstairs office. Twenty roofers arrived a half-hour go. They're like ants swarming above me. Like thunder rumbling in the distance.
Our old roof was... old. How old were those shingles? George Custer's house is 400 yards to the west of us. He lived there. His famous horse "Dandy" lies buried in the backyard. One day Custer rode Dandy past our house, knocked on the door, and asked permission to climb on the roof and autograph the shingles. His signature is all over those things. The rumor is that Custer and his family, needing some extra money, actually roofed our house.
Out my window shingles are falling like rain. New wood is lined up around the house ready to replace rotting, damaged wood. I'm looking down at the crew, which looks like a team of ants that know what they is doing. Which makes me feel good.
We're getting a new roof today!
The old roof had some minor leaks. When it rained hard accompanied by strong winds, water crept through the flimsy singles. A number of times winds higher than 20-30 mph blew shingles off. I have climbed on my roof to "replace" them. Note the inverted commas around "replace." The idea of me replacing shingles or doing any roofing work is a joke. And it's become incrasingly dangerous. The slope on one part of my roof is steep, the shingles are slippery-shiny, and my legs are not in shape. I've sat on my roof's peak wondering what am I doing up here? I’m there thinking that I need to work out more and get in shape, not for my own physical health, but just to be a roofer.
My new roof means - I won't be up on this thing, probably and hopefully, ever again. My roofing career is officially over. If you need roofing work done don't call me.
I'm thankful for a roof over my head and food to eat and friends to love and be loved by and family. I'm thanking God on this Labor Day for these laborers, and for the wonderful people at Brothers Construction in Monroe County.