Cheers To The Roofer

My grandfather on my mother’s side was a roofer. He was built like a brick house, similar to the ones he climbed daily. Muscle and brawn, carrying a pack of shingles on each shoulder as he climbed up ladders without using his hands.

When my father started dating my mother, he was a scrawny little teenager. As you can imagine, my grandfather intimidated the living hell out of my father. Thankfully, based on my existence, that wasn’t enough to scare him away.

Now the days of climbing roofs have long been in the rearview mirror for my grandfather. The other day I was driving around in the car with him. He would point to various buildings in town and say, “See that hotel right there? We did that roof back in the 80s. You should see the view from up that high. Although there weren’t as many buildings around back then.”

He would go on and on. You could tell that this gave him pride. It takes him back to a different time in his life. When he was younger. When he had the whole world in front of him. Where he created something beautiful with his bare hands. Felt like he was part of something.

I think our parent’s generation did something subtle but quite profound while raising us.

Now let me preface this. I believe this line of thinking is completely natural and an ingrained part of parenting. I have these same feelings now with my daughter. But the timing of this particular thought might have led to some unintended consequences.

They told us, “I want you to have more opportunities than I had.” Of course, the word opportunity here meant college. This thought coincided with the explosion of college admissions in this country. And the growing general acceptance that it was the best path forward for the general population.

They said, “I want you to have a better life,” Better. It is a comparative word. A better life than mine. “I don’t want you to work like I had to work. I don’t want you to sweat, to work with your hands, to break your back, to feel the flames of the forge every day, to eat dirt, to scrape by. I want you to have a better life.”

But what message did that send to an entire generation?

That your life wasn’t good enough? That the things you built with your hands weren’t beautiful? Wasn’t worthwhile? Didn’t provide you with purpose and pride? Didn’t provide the world and our structures with value?

That becoming a mechanic or a plumber or a tradesman would be seen as the lesser of the options. That a hard day’s work where you earn your keep and earn your worth is only reserved for those unlucky enough to have to suffer through them?

Where have all the tradesmen gone?

Maybe they are off chasing so-called opportunities and a better life…

My family on my father’s side owned and operated a seafood restaurant in my hometown for 70 years. My great grandfather built it from the ground up. A large number of my family worked at the restaurant. My grandmother was the queen bee and ran the entire place. Kept the legacy of her father alive, even though he had long passed.

My mother worked three to four nights a week as a waitress. And my father would help out on the weekends working behind the bar and cash register to keep things running as smoothly as possible during the busiest of nights.

Now when I became a teenager, I eventually broached the subject of working at the restaurant. It was immediately shot down. “You don’t want to work at the restaurant. Plus, your grandmother would never let that happen.”

I believe the reason for this proclamation was the same line of thinking. We want better for you.

Shield you from this tough environment. Shield you from the loose tongues of the cooks. Shield you from the sometimes unruly, unhappy customers. Shield you from the sweat, blood, and tears of a hard day’s work. You have more opportunities ahead of you. You sit tight. Better opportunities. One’s that we never had. A better life.

Those statements while made with the best intentions are not free. They come with a cost.

Because it prematurely closes a door and shuts out something potentially beneficial in our lives. And that is being part of the story. Part of the legacy. What if I wanted to be a part of the restaurant my family built and worked at? What if I developed a purpose and aim in carrying on the family business and that gave me direction and fulfillment?

What if I wanted to be able to join in and tell stories about working crazy nights where everything turned into chaos and spit us out bruised, battered, and broken. Limping to work the next day ready to do it all over again. What if I wanted to work side by side with the people that I loved, with the people that I looked up to and aspired to be like? Mentoring me along, teaching me life skills that I had not yet acquired.

What if I wanted my children to grow up and one day and take them for a ride past the building where the restaurant used to be. Pointed and said, “Daddy used to work here. We made people smile and laugh. Sometimes made them angry and cuss up a storm. Created a place for families to come and be together under one roof. Share a meal with your fellow neighbors. Celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Come as you are, and leave as you are. Walking out the door feeling just a little less hungry for food, but a little more hungry for life.”

And I would smile a big smile, remembering the work we did. Just like my grandfather as we drive around looking at shingles on 30-year-old roofs. Breathing in the moment. Feeling fulfilled as we pass on the stories to the next generation.

Don’t get caught in the trap of a better life. Better is subjective. All the opportunities in the world can still lead you back to the one right in front of you. There are plenty of noble treasures in your backyard. You just have to dig them up and give them a little polish.

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name

And they’re always glad you came

You want to be where you can see

Our troubles are all the same

You want to be where everybody knows your name

Cheers to the roofer.