From: Alan Skeoch
Subject: Barn Building – a skill I seem to lack
Date: January 5, 2018 at 3:01:48 PM GMT-5
To: alanskeoch
STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES: A HARD LESSON LEARNED IN BARN BUILDING
alan skeochjanuary 2018
“Marjorie, stand beside the car…Pregnancy getting close to term…we are going to have a baby!”“Alan, when the baby arrives you will have to pay attention to other things.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, I will need help.”
“Right! You can count on me.”
“We can no longer pile farm equipment and planks on the roof rack.”
“Why not? The baby isn’t going be put on the roof rack, is it?
“Think…think…think, Alan. Or is that too much to ask?
“Act like an adult for once in your life.”
So that is when the great idea came to mind…like a flash of lightning.
Our car in 1968. Loaded with Tara, our coonhound…a set of cultivating discs on the roof…and Marjorie who was very, very pregnant.
THE BARN FIASCO
“Alan, you have to stop.”:
“Stop what?”
“Stop bringing all these driftwood planks here?”
“Why?”
“Mr. and Mrs Coyne, our wonderful landlords, won’t say anything but they are worried? beginning to think their tenants are odd.”
“I’m stacking the lumber neatly in the laneway…can’t resist grabbing the stuff…good wood.”
“Where do you get it?”
“Sir Casimir Gzowki park…lumber pilesup there in a jumble like pick up sticks all winter”
“Are you allowed to…”
“Never gave that much thought. Easier to get forgiveness than permission you know. A couple of city workers pulled up he other day while I was taking apart a smashed up picnic table.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Nope, just told them the law of the sea…right of salvage…I was doing a service to society.”
“And they believed that?”
“Yep…they even pointed out some big planks frozen in ice that we could loosen.”
“The pile is now 7 feet high and three feet wide, ten feet long”
“Some 2 x 12’s, lots of 2 x 6’s, some big timbers…”
“But what is the purpose??”
“Well Marjorie, spring is coming. “
“So what?”
“Birds built nests, groundhogs dig borrows, fish find gravel beds, flies cluster at windows, frogs start to sing”
“Stop being silly…What are you going to do with all that water beaten half splintered junk…”
“First, I am taking all the big spikes out of it…”
“And?”
“And you are pregnant…big as a house…”
“Alan!”
“So, I am going to build a barn.
“A barn?”
“As I said…spring is building time…birds are building nests for their eggs, snakes are finding spots to root around together, …”
“Alan, stop talking drivel.”
“OK, you are very pregnant…baby due in May…so I am going to build a barn.”
“Makes no sense…nonsense…why build a barn…do you expect the baby to live in the barn? Do you thinks you are Joseph and the baby will be called
Jesus?
“Now, there’s an idea…Jesus. No, I think Kevin is better or Morgan.”
“Get back to this barn foolishness. “
Note: This was my idea of a barn frame. The kind Alex Skeoch built back in the 1890’s. Mine would have to be a little more modest as my lumber supply was limited to the boards floating down the Humber River and washing up on Sunnyside Beach in the winter of 1968. I was convinced that barn building was part of my genetic makeup.
SKEOCHS WERE ONCE BARN BUILDERS
“Marjorie, Alexander Skeoch built barns At Corrunna a hundred years ago.”
“So what? You are not even sure of that…”
“So, people must have called him Al, which is what some call me… I must be genetically destined to be a barn builder…must come naturally…”
“Where is this stupid barn to be built?”
“On the old foundation of grandad’s barn…in the hollow between the farm ponds.”
“Who is this barn for?”
“For me…and my collection of abused farm equipment.”
“Nothing to do with me or the baby?”
“Well,..No, guess not…but should keep me busy…maybe by the time the baby comes I will have a manger built though. “
“So how does all this lumber get up to the farm?”
“Bought a roof rack for the car…take a few planks at a time…good springs on the car…”
How does one fool build a barn. With care? Note the long rope to hold the beams near to vertical. But not quite vertical unfortunately. As a barn builder I felt I was gifted. Certainly agile. Note there is no ladder and the beam is aslant In my defence it was very difficult to keep the upright beams straight while pounding in the angle braces. Alex Skeoch, the builder of the Cruickshank barn at Corunna, had the help of 100 men and as many women. I was alone most of the time. Got advice from Marjorie and Dad occasionally. “You are going to kill yourself, damn fool.”“Alan, we have a child coming and you are risking your life.” “Are those nails long enough?” “Alan, those nails are bent…don’t tell meyou are using the old spikes?”
And so the new barn began to rise from the ashes of the old Freeman barn. As planks arrived they were cut and hammered to posts, then plywood pieces were nailed to roof trusts…all cut to length with a skill saw. Being a lone builder was not as easy as it seemed. Dad came along occasionally to add his comments which usually started with “You are a goddamned fool!’ And then he did his part to help pulling spikes out of the battered planks and muttering choice phrases while huffing and puffing on a White Owl Invincible.
We had the family farm but the barn had been lost decades ago. Now a farm without at barn is like horse with out harness or a cow without an udder or a swamp without frogs or a sky without clouds or a house without a stove…Get the point. You can probably add a host of other examples. Do so, by all means.
This is (was) my barn. You will note the lone surviving piece of Granddad Freeman’s barn was the stone stable wall at the front. All the other structures I built myself. I did not have enough of the rescued green asphalt roofing so had to dip in our savings for a few squares of brown shingles which were on sale.. NOTE the farm field. Try to pretend you do not see the weeds. Look at the spring toothed cultivators and the big drag plow. Not seen is the International Formal A tractor.
The barn would be a perfect place to keep all the rather neglected farm machines I had been collecting. Much to the humour of the real farmers on the Fifth Line. And to Dad, trapped above on an old horse drawn corn cultivator that made a lot of noise when pulled through the weeds but
“Alan, get me off this son of a bitching bastardly machine.”
“Dad, it will pull the switchgrass.”
FIASCO! HEART BREAK!
“ALAN, you might like to come up to the farm…surprise awaits you!’
“Nothing we can do about it. Gimme the crowbar!”, said Dad later that day. No expletives immediately. He loved our creation as much as I did. Did not want to hurt my feelings. At least not right away. When we got into the demolition phase he reverted back to his old self. Speaking in opposites.
Dad got as much kick out of the demolition of the barn as he did the construction. He grinned a lot and let fly with his compliments such as ‘goddamned fool’, “you don’t know what the hell you are doing.” “let’s set the whole thing on fire and be done with it.” “here give me that crowbar, you don’t know your ass from your elbow.” etc. Etc. In short, we had a good time both building and demolishing the barn.
“You know Alan, it would probably have come down anyway,”
alan skeoch
