The foreman had the plans spread across a stack of lumber. Thirty of us stood around him, waiting.
We had seven days to build our house in Joplin, Missouri.
My school called it a “Blitz Build.”
Most of us studied construction management at CSU Chico. A few came from other programs. A professor had paid for nearly everything: flights, hotel, food, and building materials.
I never asked how.
The exterior walls lay stacked beside the foundation. They were large prefabricated panels, foam insulation packed between their faces. Pallet ties and shrink wrap still holding it together.
The plastic was snagged and billowed in the breeze.
I helped cut it away then went back to the foreman. The plans were still spread across the lumber.
I swept a patch of floor that was mostly dirt.
Someone picked up a hammer, turned it over in his hand, and set it down.
I moved a stack of materials closer to the framing.
Someone asked when we were going to start.
The foreman bent over the drawings again.
That first evening, none of us had much to show for the time we’d spent waiting.
~
On the second day, we began lifting panels.
I took hold of one side and helped raise it.
We lined up the edges and bolted the sections together.
Once the first panel stood, we brought up the next.
By the time we stopped for lunch, the walls had begun to enclose the house.
Sandwiches delivered in paper sacks. We ate them sitting on buckets and supplies—each with a pickle tucked inside the wrapper.
Then a crane arrived, and we returned to the house.
I stood below as the operator swung the boom over the house. Roof joists rose above us, hanging from their rigging. We guided them into position and secured them. When the crane left, the roof structure was in place.
~
My alarm came all too fast.
4:30 flashed across its face.
“Breakfast by five. Job-site by six. Work ’till eight.”
Then I hauled myself out of bed.
Around midday, one of the professors came over to a stack of two-by-fours. He knelt beside the lumber with a measuring tape and pencil.
“Hey, do you want to frame a wall?”
I crouched beside him.
“I thought you were an architect.”
He smiled.
“That among other things. I also teach sometimes.”
He spread out the plans. We measured the lumber, marked the cuts, and assembled the frames. When we finished, I helped lift one upright.
It stopped against the joists.
I pushed. The top struck the framing overhead before the wall could stand straight. We lowered it and tried again.
It caught in the same place.
The foreman found me.
“You made them too tall.”
I found some mallets.
We lined up along the wall and began tapping. The first blows barely moved it. I worked a few inches at a time, then moved down the length of the frame. The top scraped against the joists. We checked the alignment and kept hammering.
The wall settled a little then dropped into place.
I fastened it down and moved to the next one. This one, I framed a half-inch shorter.
~
By the fourth day, I found a coil of Romex and started on the electrical.
I pulled cable through the framing and fed it through the holes in the studs. I brought the runs to the receptacle boxes, then moved into the next room. Lumber and tools lay across the floor. I stepped over them, reached through the framing, and pulled the cable through.
Outside, the hospital stood on a hill.
From where I worked, I could see whole sections missing from the building. Floors ended at torn edges. Open rooms faced the sky. I could see into the exposed structure from the job site.
The owner of our house came by while I was working. He walked through the framing, looking at the walls and the roof joists then stopped on the way out, looking at the brackets holding the house to the foundation.
Then he shook his head and laughed.
“What will those do? I had tornado insurance, but they said it was flooding. Flooding caused by the tornado. So they—”
He sighed.
“… I’m glad you’re here. It’ll be nice to just have a home again.”
I stood among the studs and listened then went back to work.
Beyond me, the hospital was still visible over the framing.
Then the rain came.
Water collected around the foundations, and mud clung to the ground outside. Wind blew it sideways, past jackets and hoods. Nothing could keep it out.
I stayed inside with the wiring while the students working on the exteriors went out to install siding, roofing, and the metal brackets securing the houses to their concrete slabs.
Inside, I stayed dry.
At last, we piled into the vans and drove to – Golden Corral.
I nudged my colleague.
“Hey look. Not Cracker Barrel again.”
He sat up and smiled.
I took a plate through the buffet line. The tables filled with plates and glasses as a hundred students ate.
Most of us went back for more.
Then we climbed into the vans and drove to the hotel.
I never saw the bills.
~
The next morning, everyone grimaced pulling on their boots. Jackets and clothes hung over the shower rod, dripping into the tub. The room reeked. Boots stood stacked against the radiator.
Outside, the concrete was wet, and our steps made squishing noises. We left watery footprints behind us on the way to the vans.
Then the rains started again.
It drummed against the roof while I fed cable through the framing. I moved from room to room, installed receptacles, and ran wire for the lights and fans.
When I reached a run, I pulled the cable through, guided it toward the box, and moved on to the next.
Inspectors came through the house. They met with the foreman, checked the electrical work, and left.
I went back to the cable.
~
By the sixth day, I’d reached the electrical panel.
I mounted it and began fitting the breakers. I worked through the rows, arranging the wires and making the connections.
When I stepped back, the panel was laid out in neat rows—everything marked, neat, and straight.
The professor who had paid for the trip came over. He stood in front of the panel and looked it over.
“That’s the finest-looking panelization I’ve ever seen.”
He looked at the panel a moment longer.
“We’re done in an hour. Fly home tomorrow.”
He paused.
“If you want to get here early tomorrow, I’ll drive you over to finish up. Final inspection’s tomorrow. I … had an electrician arranged to do this, but …”
“Just tell me when.”
I went back to work.
On the hill behind us, the hospital still had whole sections missing.