‘What can I say? I’m sorry. See ya next time’

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: My husband Tyler and I discovered jewels and junk in the demolition phase of converting our old Methodist church into a house.

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One of the final places we demolished was the area beneath the entryway steps.

Based on old photos we found, we determined the steps were not original to the church. The original entry was beneath the belfry; the current entry had been constructed in the early 1940s.

Leading to the opening beneath the carpeted wood steps, a cupboard door of sorts without a knob had been sealed with foam and painted over (maybe more than once). In other hiding places in the church, we’d found old Christmas decorations (disappointing) and a plethora of old doors (thrilling!), so Tyler and I were curious what might be hidden under the steps.

He chipped away at the trim around the door, discarding pieces in all directions. “I feel like Geraldo Rivera!” he said, and I giggled.

Readers of a certain age may remember Rivera, who hosted a 1986 special on The Mystery of Al Capone’s Vaults during which he spent an hour hyping the potential discoveries of a secret vault beneath the Lexington Hotel in Chicago. When the vault was finally opened on live TV, the only things found inside were dirt and several empty bottles. [Rivera’s last words of the episode are the title of this post.]

beneath the stairs
Ta-da!

Like Rivera, our discovery was disappointing. The members of the church had left behind only a pile of scrap wood and a Bible comic book from 1962. The best thing, in fact, was the cupboard door: Solid beadboard.

beadboard cupboard
The back of the vault door was the best part.

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Tomorrow: Chapter 11 concludes with a look at what we accomplished during demo. Read it here.

The church itself soothes moments of doubt

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: As we prepared the blank slate in the old Methodist church we were renovating into our home, the 95 percent of demolition that was dirty was beginning to wear us down.

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After weeks of demolition, we were practicing self-therapy.

“Wow, we’ve made so much more progress than I thought we would.”

“Well, we knew the belfry had problems. It’s no surprise to us.”

“You know, we can bring in an expert to discuss headers if we need one.”

“I need a break, too. Breaks are good. We can’t work seven days a week.”

We needed to be cheerleaders for ourselves because everywhere we looked, we were surrounded by dust and old nails, and around every corner was more to do. As Tyler walked contractors of various sorts through the building for quotes, more than one said, “You have quite a project here.”

Anyone who’s ever done a remodeling project already knows: Many contractors cannot be depended upon for anything, but least of all, encouragement.

Right about then, we took to heart a battle cry uttered by master carpenter and host Ben Napier in an episode of HGTV’s “Hometown,” who surely had faced mammoth home remodeling projects of his own: “That’s the way the great ones all start. People doubt them. Everyone doubts them, and honestly that’s how I think you become great. You prove them wrong. You prove the doubters wrong.”

So yes, it was a big project. Thank you for pointing that out. We were going to persevere and invite the doubters to the open house to show it off when we were done.

Patience sign
Patience is a virtue.

I also was attempting to let the church itself reassure to me during those quiet moments of uncertainty. There was this sign left behind on what was perhaps a Sunday School room door: “Please be patient. God isn’t finished with me yet.”

And the message painted over the inside of the entrance, to be seen by exiting parishioners and witnessed by me every time I carried another load of tools or wood upstairs or downstairs: “Go now in peace.”

go in peace sign
Sending forth message.
peace banner
On a background of falling snow. How could it be more perfect?

This was reinforced by a little quilted banner I found among the Christmas decorations which said simply “Peace.” I brought it home, washed it gently (more gently than the poor Wise Man I’d defaced) and admired the excellent stitchery. And the appliquéd bell. It had a bell! This gem would find a spot back in the church.

And then there was the rock at the foot of the flagpole. I’m not sure what it was telling me but I found it compelling. It might have been a image of Moses with the Ten Commandments (or half of them? See? Moses was a writer, too), but it might also have been a saint or a significant Methodist figure. I think he was sticking out his tongue. I did a reverse image search for it on the computer, and I learned it was a relief, that is, a sculptural technique where the sculpted elements remain attached to a solid background. I went literal with my findings, as in “relief,” a feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress. Finding the church and working on it a little bit every day could be considered a relief: We found home.

flagpole sign
What a relief.

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Tomorrow: We make like Geraldo Rivera and go on an expedition. Read about it here.

Church demolition: Creepy, horror edition

Monica Lee5 Comments

Our story so far: Roughly six weeks into the demolition phase of project, we were pleased with the treasures we’d revealed in the old Methodist church we planned to turn into a home, but we’d also found a lot of dust and debris.

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For all the junk and debris we found in the church, we were delighted not to find two things: Rot and vermin. Besides the rotted roof in the belfry, all the wood we found in the church both hidden and exposed was astonishingly sound.

I was also pleasantly surprised by the lack of insects. Sure, there were a few spiders and spider webs in many corners, but none of those disgusting millipeds had taken up residence in the basement, and even the Asian lady beetles and box elder bugs that were infesting our nearby rental house were few and far between at the church.

wasp nest
One of three wasp nests built between the floor joists of the basement.

As Tyler was carefully removing the tin ceiling in the basement, he found three enormous wasp nests built between the exterior wall and the floor joists of the first floor. Shortly thereafter, he found another one in the false roof of the entryway. But the honeycombed structures were at least a decade old, and their creators had taken up residence elsewhere long ago.

It seems only squirrels had been unwanted squatters in ye olde Methodist church (with five extremely mature pine trees on the lot, we shouldn’t have been surprised). I’d take dead squirrels over live bats any day.

stans wife
Skeletal squirrel.

Besides Stan, whose mummified remains we found in the belfry during one of the early showings, Reroofer also found a number of squirrel carcasses in the bell tower during his reconstruction foray. And I discovered an almost perfectly preserved squirrel skeleton in a box of plastic chandelier crystals that had been stored on the second floor.

I imagined her to be Stan’s dearly departed mate, tempted but ultimately doomed by the packing Styrofoam in the box that would become her coffin. Her creepy beauty transfixed me. I texted a picture of it to my stepdaughter who, with a degree in biophysics, I thought might find it scientific. Her response? “Ewwwww!”

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Tomorrow: The self-therapy begins. You can read about it here.

How to get rich selling demolition waste

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: The demolition phase of converting our old Methodist church into a home included a couple of dumpsters and a lot of trips to Goodwill.

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We tried to be good stewards of our unwanted demolition waste. To avoid filling a landfill, we gave away a lot of things, but when the opportunity to presented itself, we were open to selling items. With mixed results.

I packed up a box of Christian books and tried to sell them at Half Price Books. I got $2.80. I immediately invested in a $3 copy of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to the World’s Religions. I figured any woman who thought living in a church was a good idea really ought to educate herself on all things spiritual.

Then, after the second guy in a beat-up pickup truck stopped to ask if he could haul away the scrap metal we’d piled up outside next to the church, Tyler and I took it upon ourselves to see how much it was worth.

One warmish afternoon in January, Tyler and I piled all the siding Reroofer tore off the belfry and about a hundred miles of suspended ceiling grid into the back of our beat-up pickup truck and drove to a scrap metal yard about ten miles away.

We stopped for lunch. Because we worked up an appetite filling up the truck.

We spent $14.23 on a couple of bowls of homemade soup and a salami club sandwich, which we split. And, because it was a bakery, Tyler got a dynamite apple fritter for dessert.

We proceeded to the scrap metal yard where a couple of overall-clad fellows helped us separate the more valuable aluminum siding from the steel scrap. Our booty was weighed, and they handed us a check for $30.24.

After factoring in the gas required to transport our scrap metal, we each earned roughly $7 an hour plus lunch.

Which was a vast improvement compared to how we spent the next two hours. We priced bathtubs, kitchen cabinets and flooring to use on the ceiling of the second floor. Big price tags, them all.

We still hoped to sell the exterior staircase at some point. Surely someone—with a cutting torch or a long trailer—needed a fire escape.

exterior staircase
For sale: One fire escape, barely used.

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Tomorrow: What we didn’t find during demo. Click here to read it.

‘The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion’

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: From Sunday school room tables to manger scenes, we gathered, sorted and gave away many of the items cluttering the interior of the old Methodist church we were demoing in order to turn into our dream home.

[I cannot claim authorship of today’s headline. It is a quote from Thomas Paine, an English-born political philosopher and author of “Common Sense,” the first pamphlet to advocate American independence.]

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Some things were simply too sacred to throw away indiscriminately. But they weren’t worth keeping either.

Like the flags. The American flag hanging on the flagpole when we took ownership was decrepit beyond salvage. That one and another we found were donated to the local American Legion post for proper retirement (i.e., burning). I also found a half-dozen desk flags that I donated to Goodwill. The United Methodist Church flag, we returned to the nearby congregation with whom the former members of our church had merged.

Then there were the hymnals. We found boxes of them, probably a few issued by every Methodist hymnal committee in a century.

I kept four of them with the intention of making a unique light fixture for a reading nook somewhere. The rest, I gave to Goodwill in hopes someone would find a creative use for them.

Bibles
These Bibles are becoming useful again in the hands of prison inmates.

And the Bibles. We unearthed more than two dozen Bibles in various conditions from falling apart to pretty nice. I kept one in excellent condition, respectfully tossed two whose bindings were disintegrating and packed up twenty-six others. Those I shipped to Christian Library International. CLI’s mission is to advance Christ’s light in prisons by distributing Bibles and offering Bible study.

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You can help Christian Library International, too, by collecting Bibles at your church, contributing money for shipping and prayer.

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Tomorrow: Like good American capitalists, we make the big bucks by selling some of our construction waste. Read it here.

Little things matter

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: As we demo the interior, we found a multitude of items in our old church to toss or give away.

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Two and a half weeks after we closed on the church, Tyler’s hired man St. Johnny tackled the closet I had once told Tyler I would clean out first. So many other priorities had pushed their way to the front of the line.

The closet was a single door along the eave on the second floor. When we’d first toured the church, a hand-lettered sign was posted on the closet door warning: “Do not open!” Of course, I opened it. Inside I found a couple of paint cans and a whole lot of dirty insulation.

“Oh, I think I read somewhere they had a wild animal in here. Maybe it was in there,” the real estate agent said.

But Stan the squirrel found a final resting place elsewhere.

Now, St. Johnny was demolishing the whole wall; my procrastination had become his opportunity. We hoped to create storage there, maybe enclosed by short, sliding barn doors.

St. Johnny found a whole lot more than old paint (but no live animals). The single closet door led to a long space along the eave, filled with Christmas decorations. Ah, so the church had already been using it as storage. Unfortunately, all of it was covered in a thick layer of dust and insulation.

As usual, St. Johnny moved boxes to my sorting station, and I sorted through them to determine what was garbage, what was worth donating and what was worth keeping.

All of the tinsel, the Easter basket stuffing and a box of Christmas manger costumes some Sunday School class in 1970 wore went into the dumpster. Some talented mom (or a moms) had turned a passel of second graders into proud shepherds watching a flock of kindergarteners by night. But the costumes had seen better days. At least three hundred dollars worth of multi-colored Christmas lights went to the basement; at some later date we would determine if these lights could be used to decorate the exterior of the church.

I found two manger scenes. One included a lighted plastic three-foot tall Holy Family. I couldn’t bear to relegate the miniature family to the dumpster, so I situated them on the curb. It was an unseasonably warm day in the middle of December, and only an hour went by before a passing van determined they had room at the inn.

“Hey, are you giving these away?”

“Yup,” I called out from inside the church, “they’re all yours.”

At the other manger-scene extreme was a cardboard stable filled with little figurines. The disintegrating barn went into the dumpster. But like their bigger relatives, I couldn’t bear to toss the figurines. So I brought them home, intent on at least washing them before giving them away.

three marys
Three Marys, one baby.

As I scrubbed their faces gently in the soapy dishwater (the “gently” part came after I erased a Wise Man’s face—ugh), I determined the figurines came from at least three different crèche scenes. I had three Marys but only one baby Jesus; this evoked a memory of my little brother who repeatedly stole Baby Sweets from my Mattel Sunshine Family back in the late 1970s—babies can be so compelling. Still, maybe someone was missing a Mary. So on the last day of the year I used my final opportunity to claim a tax deduction for a charitable donation, and I transported my motley manger family to Goodwill. Maybe someone would find a treasure in an expressionless Wise Man, or maybe not. But at least I tried.

defaced wise man
Tell me I’m not the only one reminded of the man whose face melted when he looked at the contents of the Ark in “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

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Tomorrow: Some things are even more sacred than figurines of the Holy Family. Click here to read it.

Of two minds on the divider

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: If we couldn’t repurpose the things we found in our old church during demolition, there were three ways to get rid of items we had no use for: Throw them away, give them away, sell them.

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During demo, I made several trips to Goodwill and Habitat for Humanity’s Restore. Some furniture, light fixtures and even Christmas trees were our trash, but some other man’s treasure.

built-in
Though difficult to see in this picture, the built-in cabinet on the right has crosses carved into the upper doors.

On an early trip to the Restore (which accepts construction materials and operational appliances and resells them for Habitat for Humanity’s housing program), I tried to talk the manager into taking the built-in cabinet and accordion room divider that had been between the sanctuary and the overflow space.

 

Tyler and the hired man St. Johnny loaded them into our pickup and secured them for the 20-mile journey to a new life, and I was assigned transportation responsibilities.

I pulled up to the drop-off just as a garbage truck pulled into the lot to empty the store’s dumpster. While the truck’s beep-beep-beep created background music, the Restore manager eyed my goods.

“The bad news is, we’re not interested,” he said. To be fair, the accordion divider had seen better days and the built-in was designed for, well, a church. “The good news is, I can try to talk to the trash guy into taking them. I’ll help you move them from your truck to his.”

The garbage man agreed. It being a couple of weeks before Christmas, I hurriedly dug ten bucks in cash out of my purse and thanked the dump truck driver profusely. I was sorry to be further filling a landfill, but grateful for serendipity.

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Tomorrow: I find a couple of motley manger families living in the Christmas closet. Click here to read it.

Garbage clutters the house that has no dream

Monica Lee4 Comments

Our story so far: The demolition phase of our church conversion drags on.

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If we couldn’t repurpose a material ourselves, there were three ways to get rid of items in the old Methodist church we had no use for: Throw it away, give it away, sell it.

IMG_8952Only a few items were worth the trouble of reselling, so we opted to giveaway many miscellaneous objects, but unfortunately, we created a literal ton of garbage that was of no use to anyone.

Initially, the plan was to use the regular garbage bins to get rid of refuse. Thirty-yard dumpsters, as it happens, are expensive. And we didn’t budget for any dumpsters in the Tequila Budget. So we deluded ourselves into thinking we’d just fill our garbage cans full every week and eventually, we’d get rid of everything.

Ha!

It was clear after the first week, we would get rid of all our garbage in about 2071 at that rate.

Then Tyler thought he could just bring a few overflowing truckloads to the dump.

But the nearest dump was forty miles away.

Then he thought he could order a dumpster after the first of the year. We’d just walk around our construction debris inside the church.

dumpster.jpg
Dumpster No. 1, half filled.

When the walking around became wading, he knew he’d lost the good fight. Two weeks into our demolition, Tyler gave in and ordered a dumpster. A thirty-yard dumpster was delivered the next day and filled within a week. St. Johnny, Tyler’s hired man, spent a lot of time hauling ceiling tiles, lathe and plaster to the dumpster, and even though we identified a number of items for repurposing, the basement pass-through where undoubtedly thousands of hot dishes and pies were served and the sanctuary communion rail where who knows how many sins were forgiven found their final destinies in the dumpster.

It was difficult to write a check for almost $500 just to haul away our garbage, but we ordered another dumpster to be delivered just after the New Year. Such was the price of expunging the suspended ceilings, the old carpeting and all that plaster lathe from our landscape.

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Tomorrow: A donation attempt goes awry. Read about it here.

Dust, old nails and scrap wood

Monica Lee3 Comments

Our story so far: The demolition phase of our church renovation included unearthing interesting treasures and repairing the belfry roof.

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Chapter 11

The dirty part of demolition began to wear us down. There’s a reason home improvement television devotes five minutes or less of every show to the demolition process and usually punctuates it with crazy demolition antics. The work is necessary, but most of the time, it’s just plain dirty work: Dust, sawdust, insulation dust and construction waste served with a side of tedium.

Tyler was supervisor and handler of power tools. St. Johnny, the hired man, did any work that required kneeling or heavy lifting, skills neither Tyler nor I relished exercising. I was assigned to menial, monotonous jobs like removing nails from trim and flooring.

coal picker
Yet another arcane but useful tool in Tyler’s collection.

One of our goals was to recycle as much of the church as possible. Those pieces of trim and flooring would live new lives as trim or repaired floor or accent walls in the remodeled interior. But one can’t safely saw pieces of wood riddled with nails. Oh, those church builders of yore loved their nails! A single piece of hardwood flooring might have thirty nails (plus a few carpeting staples thrown in for good measure). Tyler invested in a new Air Locker gun, a device powered with compressed air that niftily forced nails out from the bottom. He also dug a strange but effective device from one of his tool boxes that looked like it once was used by an iron welder from the Old West to move coals; I used this to yank stubborn nails from boards that could not be coaxed out by the Air Locker gun. I spent many hours using these amazing tools and acquired a bad case of tennis elbow but I became an expert. A few tips:

  • Wear work boots. Those nails are being forced out with highly compressed air pack a punch when they hit your feet.
  • Wear eye protection. Those nails fly everywhere.
  • Wear gloves. Recycled wood has splinters.
  • Admire the sparks: Yes, sometimes there are sparks.
  • Organize your recycled wood by type. In a five-thousand-square-foot structure, you’re gonna recycle a lot of wood. Separate the trim, the baseboards and the flooring, or you’re never gonna find the wood you want when you’re ready to reuse it.
neatly stacked scrap
One of our more neatly stacked piles of scrap wood.

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Tomorrow: Wanted: One dumpster. Cheap. To read it, click here.

The price of peace of mind

Monica Lee1 Comment

Our story so far: The contractor we hired to fix the flat roof of the bell tower in the old church we’re converting figured out how to not only save our 1,000-pound bell but ring it, too.

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reroofer
Our roofing expert, hard at work.

The bearded contractor I renamed Reroofer worked tirelessly on our bell tower for three days, fueled only by cigarettes and king-sized Snickers bars. He reinforced the framing, installed new decking and replaced the backer board and aluminum fascia. He put a new ice-and-water shield all around, wrapped all eight pilings with shielding and built a new trap door.

More work—to the eight original pilings holding up the structure—was required in order for us to ring the bell reliably and regularly, but that would have to wait for heavier equipment and better weather.

Reroofer finished the initial work to the belfry just in time. A thirty-mile-per-hour wind was whipping up, and the forecast called for temperatures in the teens. It was December in Wisconsin after all. When he was done, the belfry actually looked worse. Oh, it was more solid by a long shot, but aesthetically, ye olde belfry looked half-dressed without her siding. We’d agreed Reroofer would come back in the spring to make the belfry pretty, but for now, it was structurally sound and waterproof (also, squirrel free).

When he climbed down and cleaned up his tools, he handed Tyler a bill: $1,500.

After the initial extravagant quotes we got for belfry work, I was so relieved I could have cried tears of joy.

There were many nights between the time we first saw the holes in the roof of the belfry and the day we closed when the rain on the roof of the camper made me cringe. I hated thinking of all that water coming into the church unimpeded.

The night our Reroofer made the belfry water tight, I lay in bed listening to cold spiky drops of rain hitting the windows of our little rental house. The rain sounded like rice being thrown against the windows. I turned over and smiled as I drifted back to sleep.

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Tomorrow: Chapter 11 opens with a few tips on saving scrap wood, a valuable commodity in our renovation. Click here to read it.