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THE FENCE SAGE, PART II

If you recall from a few columns ago, I told you about the fence I was putting up around my swimming pool. And, if you remember, it was not so much a fence at that point, but a bunch of random fence parts scattered about my yard. It looked like a tornado had just gone through a fence factory.

Well, fast forward to today, and I am pleased to say that I have a fully functioning fence, thanks in no small part to my intense efforts. The bulk of this effort consisted of my taking a pen and writing out a check to pay someone to put up the fence. But in the end, I did manage to do a little bit of work on it, enough so that I could (a) claim some responsibility for its construction and (b) complain to my wife about the back-breaking labor I endured.

I purchased the fence from a home improvement store. They, in turn, apparently purchased it from the Three Stooges. It took almost three months to get all of the fence shipped to me. It even got to the point where one of my neighbors left a prank message on my voice mail informing me that my fence had been delivered to Tunisia. Sadly, I did not immediately recognize it as a prank call, because I figured that there was as good a chance of it being in Tunisia as anywhere else.

But once the fence arrived, the construction began. A group of three men came to the house to erect the fence. I helped the best way that I knew how, which was to leave the premises immediately. After several days of working, they had installed the bulk of the fence. There were a few hiccups along the way, but these guys were trained professionals. A burst sprinkler line was a minor delay for them. For me, there would have been rampant flooding had I attempted to repair it.

You would think I would have been very excited to see them install the last piece of fencing. But you would be overlooking the fact that there was still a six-foot gap in the fence, since we were one panel short. I knew that I was going to have to go back to the store, which was going to have to go to the Larry, Moe and Curly Tunisian Fence Company, and I would have a completed fence some time around the time my grandchildren were learning to swim.

I called the company and placed the order over the phone. The young man who was helping me told me that he was going to try and get them to ship the panel as soon as possible. I laughed and laughed. Ah, the gentle innocence of youth.

About three weeks later, the panel arrived. Surprisingly, this was on schedule, although considerably longer than it should take to ship one lousy panel. But that’s an issue for another day.

I placed a call to the man who had installed the bulk of the fence so far, hoping he could come out soon and finish the job. After several days, I came to one of two conclusions: (1) he was out of town or (2) he had dealt with that fence company before and felt there was no possible way I could be serious about the final panel’s arrival.

As the weekend approached, I grew impatient. I was tired of seeing the gap in the fence, so I decided it was time for action. It was time to take charge. It was time to grab the bull by the horns. It was time to ask my neighbor for help.

Sure enough, my neighbor was able to assist me in attaching the final panel. And by “assist me” I mean “do it while I watched.” It was a beautiful thing to behold – my brand new fence, all complete, all one unit, keeping my family safe. Then my neighbor had to really kill the buzz by mentioning that I still needed to pour cement in about 20 holes. The man who had installed the first part of the fence had not poured the cement on two sides, because without the final panel in place, you could not be certain where posts needed to go. This is why you hire people. I would have cemented as I went, and ended up having a fence that looked like a Dali painting.

So I took on the task of filling the holes with cement, a task that is WAY less fun than I thought it would be. Here is the art of cementing in a nutshell: (1) lug 80-pound bag of rocks over to a hole (2) Pour bag into hole (3) fill with water (4) repeat.

Eventually, I was done, and I was overwhelmed by the feeling that overtook me. That feeling was sheer and unrivaled pain in my back, from having lugged over 1,000 pounds of concrete around my backyard. But, in addition, there was a small section of me that felt great pride in knowing that my yard was now secure, that my family was now safe, and that my fence was no longer in Tunisia.