The Home-Improvement Teammate
Maggie Slepian
Most of my friends here in Montana are transplants. I have friends from California, Utah, Wisconsin, Washington, and Alaska. Each (non-pandemic) year, parents and families trickle in and out of town. We go to dinner with the Wisconsin parents, float the river with Alaska. We go hiking with Washington and drive to Yellowstone with Utah.
I’m happy to tag along with my friends and their parents, but there’s always a little pang of sadness, and a wish that my family was interested in coming out here. Montana isn’t exactly a destination for the non-outdoorsy, and the travel from New Hampshire has been too much of a commitment for most of them. My dad is the exception. In the 10 years I’ve lived here, he’s made it out three times. A few weeks ago was his most recent visit, and the first time he’d seen the house I bought in 2018.
One of the first things he did when he arrived was walk around my house, notepad in hand, taking notes about the house projects that needed to be done.
It’s important for my sanity to note that I keep my house really clean. I love having a tidy space, but it’s also something I can easily control. I sweep the floors, hang my clothes up every night, and do the dishes after each meal. I’m good at cleaning and it doesn’t intimidate me. It’s the bigger house projects that do—the ones that aren’t an immediate fix.
I know I could watch a YouTube video or look up the steps, but something always stops me. Too many materials, too many steps, too expensive. What if I mess it up? I’ve passively observed the finish on my porch degrade over the last three years, and accepted that my screens were torn and I just don’t open my windows.
We took a field trip to Home Depot, throwing things into the orange cart for each of his projects. We’d repair the screens and install a barrier so my cat couldn’t tear them again. We’d sand and stain the porch, and clear the branches off the roof and gutters. We’d trim the shrubs and take care of the weeds, and we’d even paint the front door a bright yellow—something I’d wanted to do since I moved in.
Back at the house, he got right to work. He was in his happy place. I knew from the family chat that he spent every nice day outdoors beautifying my childhood home, building brick pathways, repainting, and landscaping. He was also constantly doing projects in my sister’s house and brother’s house, both of whom live just a few miles away from my parents. This was a new one though: another one of his offspring had a house, and he got to make it look better.
This housework was something I knew I needed, but didn’t know how much I needed it. I trailed him as he worked his way around the house, peering over his shoulder as he mended screens and cut strips of cat-proof plexiglass. I took notes and photos, and as the days went by and the improvements became apparent, I felt a glow of pride watching the house brighten. The porch had looked worse than I thought (“Truly disreputable,” is a direct quote from my dad), and I didn’t know how much I missed opening windows until I opened them fully for the first time since buying the house. When I had friends over for a barbecue, I giddily told them, “It’s the one with the yellow door!”
The improvements were necessary and obvious, but it was more than just sprucing up the exterior. Helping my dad and watching the steps become reality took a lot of the mystery and intimidation away from working on “outdoor projects.” Everything we did was completed one step at a time. I watched my dad innovate and adapt, patiently changing his strategy if something wasn’t working. It was so different from my haphazard way of doing things (or ignoring them completely) that it felt like an epiphany.
But the biggest thing was having a teammate. The week my dad helped with house projects showed me what it was like to have someone on my team. It was reassuring and motivating. While I sanded the front door, my dad was in the garage repairing screens. While I climbed onto the roof and cleared the gutters, my dad fixed my broken gate. It made me want to work harder, and showed me what taking pride in my house felt like.
“Ask me anything you want while I’m here,” he said one day, carefully measuring a section of screen. “You have me for a full week.” And I did—I asked how necessary some repairs were, and his opinion about my landscaping. I asked how to prune bushes and square a fence. It wasn’t just his willingness and eagerness to help make my house look better, it was the fact that he wanted to teach me and work alongside me.
You can’t buy these qualities in a family member, friend, or partner, but when you have them, don’t take them for granted. I’ve fought on and off with feelings of loneliness in this whole home-owning endeavor, wishing there was someone who wanted to tackle these things with me. For a solid week, thanks to my dad and his unending kindness and generosity, I got to have them.
This message is brought to you from my freshly stained front porch, within sight of my bright yellow door. Thanks dad <3
