Exciting news about Cheryl’s home renovation project!
Since I posted yesterday about our friend Cheryl living at the edge of poverty, we’ve have fifteen people volunteer to work on her house this weekend! We’ve also received $60 in donations so far.
A couple other people have asked about ways to donate, so I’ve set up a PayPal account for people who feel prompted to give. Click on the “Donate” button to offer money to help her out.
For work on the 20th and 27th, we estimate that we’ll need:
- 4 cans of outdoor primer
- 2 cans of white latex exterior paint
- 4 cans of interior latex primer
- 4 cans of interior latex paint
- reglazing for two large windows
- curtains and curtain rods for 5 large windows (currently they’re using towels and old sheets)
- bathroom tile
- 4-6 electrical outlet plates
Once we’ve found plumbers, carpenters, and electricians, and they tell us what needs to be done, Cheryl’s house will need other supplies.
I’ll be sure to take photos this weekend so people can see the work progress!
Poverty in our hometown looks like this
If you drove past a certain house in our middle-class neighborhood, you’d think the family that lives there does all right. Not great, by the standards of one of the wealthiest counties in the United States, but a comfortable home for a hardworking blue collar family.
Walk around the house, though, and you’ll see how misleading a facade can be. My friend Cheryl raised five children in this house, many of whom have moved away. Her husband died tragically a few years ago, and his military benefits are not enough. Now Cheryl works two jobs, and has no money or skills to fix up the 40-year-old home.
Broken windows covered with plastic
Overgrown backyard
The only reason the front looks decent is because a drunk driver spun off the road and crashed into the home. Insurance has paid for all the repairs.
Inside the house, Cheryl has done her best to keep her home clean. She even has window trim and flooring that could be installed, but doesn’t have the tools or the skills to install them.
Bedroom window
Her carpet has worn away to the subflooring in some spots. Plumbing problems in the bathroom have caused the subflooring to crumble and the tub lining to rot.
Bathroom floor sinking from rot
Rotted tub lining
We have sent out a call for help to all the members of our church, including the members of our High School youth group. We asked for workers, donations, and tools to fix up Cheryl’s home during a service project that starts Saturday the 20th and will continue on for several weeks.
A few dozen people have responded, including construction foremen and carpenters, as well as people like me who can hammer a nail or paint a wall. Of course we’re still hoping for plumbing, carpeting, and electrical work, as well as people who know how to install these things. But any way we are able to help willl be a huge improvement to her life.
I myself wouldn’t have known that an impoverished widow lived in this house, unless I knew her personally. In our wealthy community, it’s hard to even imagine that right next door someone could be living in such poverty. Over the next few weekends, my biggest thrill will be the possibility of making someone else’s world a little more beautiful.
Ang’s birthday extravaganza
Joe certainly did have great plans for my birthday! On Saturday, we spent the afternoon at the Old Town Art Festival, near Lincoln Park. We met some fascinating artists, especially ones that stretched our conceptions of photographic art. We asked ourselves, how do we move beyond pretty pictures and into photographs that reflect our love of life, our core values, and our individual ways of seeing the world? How long does it take to develop that individual creative “voice”?
While many of the artists created lovely work, we were captivated by several who had an individual vision that made us hunger for a budget for artwork. Or greater talent in ourselves. Here are some of the artists we spent time with:
Iona Handcrafted Books - I craved one of her leather-bound journals of hand-crafted hemp, cotton, and jute paper; these have leather strap closures and beg to be used for special thoughts and drawings.
John Gutoskey, Mixed Media Assemblage - I fell in love with an intricate cigar box stage of mixed media from the “Metamorphosis of Faith” collection.
Greg Davis Photography - This remarkable artist sold everything and took a year off to travel through Asia. His astonishing photos of the people he met transcend the boxes that we use to categorize the world.
Sean Scott, Pomme de Terre Pottery - We saw lots of pottery and ceramics at the art fair, but nothing like the textured pottery and abstract pieces he molded as organic matter. Joe especially loved the pieces called “Birch Vessels”.
The festival was also a feast of people-watching.
Then we went to dinner at Topo Gigio. Along with two thousand other people. My linguine with scallops and lobster was exquisite. So was Joe’s chicken saltimbocca.
After dinner, we drove down to Navy Pier, where Joe had reserved a cruise on one of the tall ships to see the fireworks from the harbor. Our ship, the Windy II, was used as Batman’s yacht in one of the movies.
They let passengers help raise the sails and secure the ropes, and you better believe I volunteered. “It’s my birthday,” I said. “You have to let me try!” They did.
The fireworks were amazing. Joe is a genius at taking good fireworks photos. This one shows the Pier and part of the Chicago skyline.
After the cruise, we went inside for ice cream. The next day we got together with the daughters and boyfriend for good Mexican food. Later that night, we went for ice cream again. And there’s NOTHING wrong with that!
He’s got a secret.
Joe’s making secret plans for tomorrow’s birthday. And for me, that presents a challenge:
“So, what do you have planned?” I find that the direct approach might work best. Who knows, he might blurt it out. It’s worth a try.
“Do you really want to know? I’ll tell you ahead of time.”
“No, I want to be surprised. Wait, tell me. I want to know. Or…maybe a surprise would be more fun.”
“We might have to reschedule if the weather is bad, though. We could do it Sunday afternoon instead of Saturday.”
“Will that give us enough time? We’re worshipping at 11 and then there’s the congregational meeting at noon.”
“The meeting will only take an hour.”
See how I’ve cleverly determined that this is not a day-long activity? “Sure we can reschedule,” I said. “To Sunday or Friday or Monday or whenever.”
He looked uncertain. “No, Monday won’t work. It has to be the weekend.”
“Hmmm.”
Last night I continued my fact-finding mission. “So what should I wear for my birthday extravaganza?”
“Just casual clothes.”
“Casual like business casual? Or jeans and a t-shirt? Dress pants? A bathing suit?”
“Just regular casual.”
“What kind of shoes should I wear?”
“Comfortable shoes. There may be some walking.”
“Ohhhh, we’ll be walking, will we? How much walking?”
He sighed. “Look, do you just want to know where we’re going?”
“No, I want a surprise! But what about the weather?”
“Well, we’re kind of committed to Saturday at this point.”
“Committed how? Like reservations, or more like locked in a mental hospital?”
“I’m not answering any more questions.”
Lessons from the Garden of Weedin’
My opportunities for learning never end.
I’ve learned that Round-Up doesn’t kill weeds. It kills weeds AND all the things around it that have been slighting sprayed, plus the roots of all grass in the surrounding areas. Or maybe I’m not following the directions.
I’ve learned that while it seems fun and hopeful in February to start a tray of seeds for the summer vegetable garden, I’m not good at this activity. The plants always die of damping-off, or don’t survive the weather no matter how long they’ve been acclimated, or look pathetic for a month after planting, until I finally get disgusted and go to the garden store to buy more plants.
I’ve learned that one summer of over-enthusiastic planting leads to years and years of garden maintenance. And wailing and gnashing of teeth, while I listen to other people riding their motorcycles and bikes or getting out their boats. Grass all the way, baby.
