Hat's Off - No. 1

Recently, my parents, ages 81 and 84, have been worried about the state of the gutters that carry the water from their roof to the street.  Water overflows them every time it rains.  Dad, who worked as an engineer, pays particular attention to things like this.

Their worry is understandable.  You see, my parents, in their mid-50s, (age not decade) built the house in which they live, actually built it with their very own hands.  Subcontractors were called in by Dad for just a couple of jobs.

I missed out on almost all the construction as I was having and tending babies.  However, Better Half, my brothers, and their friends put in lots of hours.  They poured concrete.  They set roof trusses.  They helped with the huge tasks that required many hands.  Mom and Dad did the rest, even the roofing.

My parents love to talk about those days.  While it was hard, back-breaking work, it was very satisfying for my parents.  My mom, at the end of most days, noted their progress in an old notebook.  From time to time, she will get out the dog-eared journal and read to my dad and me.

But I seriously digress . . . . . . . .

Mom turned to the phonebook, then internet, to search for gutter contractors. She found two.   She also found gutter information and a gutter profile which she printed for my Dad to study.  Mom is the internet guru in the family. 

Dad calculated the square footage of the roof. He is the calculation guru.  He began to think he had installed gutters that were too small to adequately carry the water from the roof.

Armed with phone numbers and calculations, they made the call to the contractor.
 
Yesterday, I stopped for a visit.  They were both perched expectantly in the dining area.  I thought they were just excited that my brother was coming to visit.  They were.  But they seemed even more excited that the gutter contractor was coming to assess the overflow situation.

The doorbell rang.  Dad went to the front door and disappeared onto the porch.  After several minutes, Mom and I joined the men on the front porch.  I was stunned at the words I was hearing.

Bill Boggs, The Gutterman, told my parents they did not need new gutters.  He told them the gutters could handle the flow.  He was not interested in selling them a product they did not need.

He, patiently, and with great kindness, suggested they remove some filters they had installed to catch debris.  Taking care to use my dad's first name, he then suggested they flush out the black corrugated pipe that carries the water to the street.  He told them what to look for in terms of flow.  They asked him about installing gutter guards.  He did not even want to sell them the guards, for the time being.

I could scarcely believe my ears.  My parents are fairly savvy, with it folks.  But I do believe my dad was ready to buy new gutters.  And, if Bill had recommended it, I think the deal would have been done. 

Bill Boggs, The Gutterman, is a man of character.  He is the kind of man we hear about too infrequently.  I should have known all along that he was a good man.  He carries a 30 foot yellow Stanley tape measure on his belt.

My hat's off to you, Bill Boggs!