Everyone has a talent. There are those who are world-class doctors while others are legal masterminds waiting for their chance as a Supreme Court Justice. Some people become successful race-car drivers while what seem like too few become favorite elementary school teachers. Even those who think they have no talent, those who dreamed of being actors but cannot memorize lines or hoped to become an author but cannot put together two sentences, have a skill they can perform above all others.
We all take delight in having talents. It is our ability to excel in this one thing that gives us our individuality. Without our individuality, we become nothing more than average. Average has replaced failure in our world. Gone are the days when we strive to be like every other American; a house with a white picket fence, married with two kids and a dog. Now we must be the best at something. We dream of the days when we are superstars or political leaders. To be something other than a lead actor or a U.S. Senator is an utter failure.
And all this because we don't like the word average unless "above" is inserted in front of it.
I recently returned from a month-long trip to various places in the country. Between D.C., Tennessee, Oklahoma City and Dallas I had some good experiences. But this isn't about those experiences. That'll be for another day.
When I arrived back in the Chicagoland area, I was given a task; I need to build a fence for my dad. Here's the catch: the only time I knew what I was building was when I built an argument, and even then it's even money on whether it is a good one.
So I'm presented with a task. A monumental task. A why-would-anyone-think-I-could-possibly-do-this task. And like most seemingly frustrating challenges, I took it head on without thinking.
We're not talking about a small fence here. We're not even talking about the easy-to-do six-footers that barricade ourselves from the outside world. Instead, we have a four-foot, open-slat fence. The good news is that the fence will be a copy of the old one, just with new wood. The bad news is that I need to raise the bottom up two inches without raising the whole fence up. To make it worse, I need to do it solo.
The reason solo is bad is because a.) I don't know what I'm doing and b.) I don't know what I'm doing.
I have a little knowledge of carpentry gathered over the years. I learned how to use a saw from my maternal grandparents, where woodworking was a major hobby of theirs. My grandfather would plane and size wood out for my grandmother, who would then cut various figures out of them. Then she'd paint them and sell them for a decent sum. It was her craft and something she took pride in. I learned how to use various saws from them growing up, but not enough to build things.
Actually, the only time I ever "built" something was a beer pong table I crafted together when living in Fairfax, Virginia. It was/is a nice table, but really it was just two sheets of plywood painted to look like a football field with braces and saw horses keeping it up. I really liked it, but I can't say it is something I truly built.That brings us to these past few days. With my dad, I went to the lumber yard and gathered the necessary wood (which I calculated based on some rough measurements.) Then we hauled the wood to the back and I set up my work station. Not only was I alone from that point on, but I was completely clueless.
I had some confidence that this was going to get done. Dad mentioned I should have the small fence on the side of the house, which has four six-foot sections and one small gate, in a few hours, so I thought this was going to be a good deal if I could get it done in an afternoon.
Five hours later, this is all I had done. And I wasn't taking a slow route by any means! I was measuring for accuracy, cutting with caution, and assembling to perfection. I made sure every piece of wood was level to the ground and standing straight up and down. It was just taking forever to put together each section. Especially when I would have to figure out how to hold up the wood in order to screw the wood screw in properly to make it not only two inches above the ground, but conforming to the pattern and equidistant from each other slat. I didn't know what I as doing wrong. Then came Sunday. Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. Apparently this was waived for the devoted sons who promised to build fences. It didn't hurt that I had the house to myself since everyone was out on the boat or downtown or who knows where. I knew I couldn't build the gate the same way as I did the sections because gates aren't permanent fixtures on a fence. They swing back and forth. So I had to assemble the gate on the ground and the install hinges to the fence and the gate.
The gate, which is half the size of any section and uses much less wood, took longer than the rest of the fence! I spent most of the day trying to get the thing to fit. And when it was done, on Monday, I mentioned to my dad that I was thinking about assembling each section of the fence the same way, by building it on the ground and then installing it to the posts. His response, "I would've done that in the first place."
At what point of "I have no idea what I'm doing" did I somehow subconsciously turned down any advice? I'm still lost on that one. However, fast forward to today, the alternative method is working fine. The fence is half finished and I am winning the fight. It isn't easy work. It isn't fun work (for me.) I'm not even close to being good at this work. But there is on thing the fence taught me; I didn't get a degree in architecture or anything that involves building physical objects for a reason.
I just don't have the talent for it.
