This is The Way We are and This is How We Talk
Our church has been working with some other churches on a Habitat for Humanity project. Pepe wrote something about this on his blog. I’m pleased as punch to be a part of the whole thing. A house is being built by well-meaning people, and a honest, hard-working family with a sweet little girl will be able to afford their own home. As I often hear people say these days, "It’s all good!"
There was some confusion on the day I volunteered, however. I guess that’s inevitable when a crowd of people show up hoping to build something. If you watched closely, you could see the pecking order working itself out.
At the top was the Project Manager and his two assistants. His job is to oversee everything and make sure that the house doesn’t end up looking like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.
Next there were the two or three volunteers who seemed to know something about construction. They knew construction words like “soffit,” “joist,” and “plumb.” They brought their own tool belts and had serious looking hammers dangling from little metal rings. These guys sized up the situation quickly and got right to work, barking orders and grabbing power tools. They were the heroes of our flash mob.
Then there were people who didn’t know much about construction but managed to attach themselves to one of these hero volunteers. They quickly formed ad hoc work crews that always looked busy and always seemed to be getting work done.
Finally, at the bottom, were the pitiful people like me, who don’t know dick about construction. We were tentative and visibly uncomfortable as we milled around desperately looking for someone to tell us what to do. We gladly accepted orders from anyone who even looked like he knew what he was talking about. I probably would have nailed a board to my own head if someone holding a plumb bob had told me to.
This was establishing dominance and submission, old school. Wild Kingdom. Lord of the Flies. I doubt there is this much charging, bluffing, and retreating in the middle of the Serengeti.
I know what you’re thinking. It would take a miracle to get anything accomplished, right?
Well, miracles abound on Habitat sites. First, these houses somehow get built. Second, no one dies from doing something stupid like nailing a board to his own head. Third, men and women come together, form temporary but complex social organizations, work agreeably toward a common goal, and then disperse without a single act of violence or aggression.
Amazing.
One of the volunteers fascinated me, so I watched him pretty closely throughout the day. He wasn’t from any of the churches working on this project. I guess he was some sort of free-lance volunteer or something. He was short, stocky, and had a bullet-shaped head that erupted right out of his shoulders. He wore a t-shirt, ragged shorts, and beat-up tennis shoes. His discolored white socks were so gray that I wondered if someone might have poured a cup of graphite into his washing machine.
This guy seemed anxious to be numbered among the heroes who made us believe they knew things about construction, and he had a unique strategy for elevating himself in the constantly evolving social order of the day. He would hang around the Project Manager, loudly repeating whatever that guy said as if it was his own idea. Once I figured out what he was doing, it was very interesting to watch him.
Project Manager to the Bullet-Headed Gray Socks Guy:
“I’m gonna ram-jack this end down, cause I’m on the line. Then you tap your end over and line it up with the chalk. I need to see that chalk line before we do yours, got it?”
Bullet-Headed Gray Socks Guy [loudly]:
“Okay, you ram that end down, see? Then I’ll be able to line mine up. That’s the way we’ll do it.”
I loved the Bullet-Headed Gray Socks Guy and tried to position myself near him whenever possible. I enjoyed listening to the way he talked. He seemed to be an expert in a variety of subjects, including the esoteric art of weather forecasting.
“Yeah, I’m like those guys you see with their computers and all? Only I just take a look outside and tell you if it’s gonna rain or not. And I’ll be within a few minutes of the right time, too. Whaddya need a computer for? Stick your head out the window, for cryin out loud. I take one look outside and I’ll tell you exactly when it’s gonna start raining. I see clouds like these today, and I say, ‘Nah, it ain’t gonna rain. Not today.’”
I actually considered going to my car, getting my moleskine notebook, and writing down everything this guy said. Only I couldn’t figure out a way to do that without looking even more pathetic than I already did, so I spent the whole day listening to him and promising myself I would remember exactly how he said things.
“No, no, no, no, no. My man here’s got the stroke. Let him do it.”
“That’s gonna split! That’s gonna split! That’s gonna…you’re gonna split it.”
Occasionally you’d be hammering something and suddenly he would appear, looking over your work with a practiced eye. “Yeah, you’re gonna like that. You’re right on the money.”
I love real people and love to listen to them. This is the way we are in our world, and this how we talk.
Maybe you think I’m making fun of the Bullet-Headed Gray Socks Guy. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m every bit as silly as this guy and probably more. I still pretend I know karate when I’m alone on the elevator. I talk to myself constantly and am petrified of bugs. I’ll walk around a construction site, giggling to myself and listening to the way people talk. No, I have nothing but love for the Bullet-Headed Gray Socks Guy.
It’s doubtful that he even noticed me, but if he did he might call me, “That Timid Little Smarty-Pants Guy With the College Professor Glasses.”
And I’d be okay with that. Very okay with that. This was one day in our lives, and we were a bunch of silly people trying to bring one small goodness into this world.
You, me, and the Bullet-Headed Gray Socks Guy. We are absolutely in this together and for the long haul.
rlp
6:13:45 AM 
|
