If my parents weren’t builders, I guess I never would have heard of barn raising. It happens with Amish people. If somebody needs a new barn, all the nearby farmers come over and build the guy a new barn all in one day. I guess what happened today was a clubhouse raising.
My parents wanted to start at seven a.m. Seven a.m. to my parents is like ten a.m. to normal people. As we pulled into the driveway, I could hardly believe what I saw: the Lindops—Mr., Mrs., Ernie—all waiting and waving on the porch. But the biggest surprise was Lily—she came along. And nobody made her. She hasn’t been grumpy for the last couple days. She’s talking to me again.
Mr. Lindop went for supplies. Dad set up his workbench in the yard. He ran a long orange cord to an outlet on the porch and connected the buzz saw.
Then we started building. It was hot. Mrs. Lindop brought out lemonade and iced tea with mint leaves in it.
After a while Nacho and Burke showed up, still half asleep. Their main jobs were to stay out of the way.
By lunchtime the walls were up and spaces framed for two windows and a door. Mrs. Lindop had a picnic set up in the shade of the back porch. Cold cuts. Potato rolls. Chicken salad. Blue corn chips. Pickles. Olives stuffed with cheese. Brownies. Watermelon. You name it. Once, as I looked up from my sandwich, I saw Bump ride by.
All afternoon we were swimming in sweat. Everybody was dragging but Ernie. He was darting like a squirrel. I swear, from seven a.m. till the end, I never saw the smile leave his face.
By dinnertime the job was almost done. Peaked roof with shingles. Hardwood floor. It was beautiful.
“I want to live here,” I said, only half joking.
Last came the paint. “What color, Ernie?” said my dad.
Ernie didn’t hesitate. “Orange!” Everybody made groany smiles. Before anyone could say, You can’t paint a clubhouse orange, Dad said, “Orange it is.”
An hour later, one wall to a painter, it was done. A miniature orange house. “I take it back,” I said. “I don’t want to live here.” Everybody laughed—Ernie loudest of all. I’ve never seen anybody so happy as that kid.
“One last thing,” my dad said. He went to the truck and came back with a weather vane he had saved from an old job. He screwed it onto the roof. It was a floppy-eared dog with its straight-out tail pointing in the wind direction.
Then we all went out for pizza to celebrate.