D.Construction
I am a Fischer by birth, which obligates me in some respect to devote a certain amount of time and energy to Fischer Builders, Inc. A. Fischer Builders, Inc. is the construction company started by Frank Fischer (my late great-grandfather) in Quincy, Illinois, in the 1930s. It has been owned and operated by my grandfather, Alan Fischer, for about the last fifty years, making it the patriarchal institution around which my father's side of the family has been built.
Everyone, from my grandmother and grandfather's five kids to each and every one of their kids, has done his or her part in keeping up with the company and keeping it and, in turn, the family running smoothly. That's not to say that it is a family requirement to serve time in the company like the armed forces before going off to the real world, but for some in the family, it is tradition and a way of life. For others who are less involved, my grandpa uses the company as an opportunity to employ dependable labor as is needed and give his grandkids the opportunity to make a little cash when wanted.
My grandfather is a very generous man, but he is also one to make you respect the value of earning a dollar. Every once in a while, he will give us grandkids a chance to work for the company in some, usually light, capacity to occupy our time, which would otherwise be spent lounging about, and a chance to put a little hair on our chins (or in Lindsey's and Alissa's case, a chance to break some nails).
But like I alluded to before, for some of us at Fischer Builders, construction is a way of life. This is not the case for me. I was born a Fischer, but not a Fischer Builder. Fortunately or unfortunately, the construction blood does not run through me. And every time I go back there to do something extremely manly, I cannot help but feel diminished by my cousins and fellow colleagues, who have been building houses and driving heavy machinery around since they were all fourteen years old or younger.
I am speaking mainly about my four cousins specifically, Chad, Nathan, Ryan, and Evan, who are the offspring of my dad's one-year-older (to-the-day) brother Greg and his lovely wife, Deb (they also have one daughter, the aforementioned Alissa). Anyway, these four gentlemen, who are all older than me (Evan being the youngest, older than me by a year) and were more or less born into the construction company, have all been described as gorgeous, exceedingly handsome men; and they all perform construction tasks as if it is second nature to them, or even first nature. The four of them all went into the Fischer Builders organization during high school and have been working there ever since, save Chad, the eldest.
Anyway, every time I go back to work for Fischer Builders, I somehow end up doing the most menial tasks possible, a.k.a. the bitch work, every time as I do not possess the skills and talents needed to perform the "real work." Most of time, I am working with Tyler or Jordan, who are not even Fischers at all, by the fact that they are the offspring of my father's oldest younger sister, Lori and her husband Dan Stroot (they also have one daughter, in between the two boys and my age, the aforementioned Lindsey). But Tyler and Jordan, still, are both better-looking and more athletic than I am, similar to Greg's boys. When I am working with them, though, I feel much more comfortable and much more equal (maybe because we're all doing bitch work!), and tend to have a pretty fun time, most of the time.
But when I am working with Ryan, Nathan, or Evan, I cannot help but feeling violently emasculated and exceedingly jealous when they can do something so well that I can't do at all. They seem to get by so easily when moving heavy loads around, or hopping on and off backhoes and forklifts and trucks. How could any girl like me? How could anyone find me attractive when I can't do that stuff? I feel so worthless when I am just standing around watching them do actual labor.
I got some leverage the other day, though, when the project was tearing the roof off of the old warehouse in which Fischer Builders houses its extra materials, and which Jordan, Tyler, and I had spent the last week cleaning out and organizing. I spent the first part of the morning tidying up some things with Nathan (made me feel like a dope), after which I reluctantly climbed up above and began tearing the roof off with my lesser-construction-minded cousins Tyler and Jordan, amongst others.
I was initially freaked out because heights really do not entice me, nor do ladders. These fears were heightened by the shoddy condition of the roof we were deconstructing. When I arrived, Tyler had already poked his foot through one of the many rotting boards that had been in place underneath the shingles. With the condition of the aging planks, it was only with much caution that we crossed stepping only on the rafters. Upon later interrogation, my cousin and veteran construction worker Ryan told that this roof was an "11" on the 1-10 scale of worst roofs he'd ever seen. Though I didn't believe him, I did watch and work as the rest of us did with careful consideration throughout the day pulling up shingles and nails, minding our steps and concentrating heavily on not killing ourselves.
As time went by, it became easier and easier to get the job done, I was able to get over my initial fears and put myself into hard work mode in order to accomplish my task. With all of us working together, we got the entire side done in a matter of hours, despite the ramshackle condition of the support boards underneath. By the end of the day, I was the last one of us part-time grandsons to actually finish the job with the other full-timers. The other part-timers had given up, wishing to finish the next day, leaving Jordan, Ryan, and I to combat the remainder of this beastly project, however dangerous and precariously close to the edge on the worst corner of the entire building it may have been. But nevertheless, we finished the job, and I had a great time doing it. I felt very fulfilled about the task I had just performed. I had fun, I conquered my fears, and in the end I felt much more equal to my other cousins. After participating in a family activity such as that, my masculinity had returned to me and I learned that in order to conquer your fears, you not only have to face your fears, but you must also embrace them.
Everyone, from my grandmother and grandfather's five kids to each and every one of their kids, has done his or her part in keeping up with the company and keeping it and, in turn, the family running smoothly. That's not to say that it is a family requirement to serve time in the company like the armed forces before going off to the real world, but for some in the family, it is tradition and a way of life. For others who are less involved, my grandpa uses the company as an opportunity to employ dependable labor as is needed and give his grandkids the opportunity to make a little cash when wanted.
My grandfather is a very generous man, but he is also one to make you respect the value of earning a dollar. Every once in a while, he will give us grandkids a chance to work for the company in some, usually light, capacity to occupy our time, which would otherwise be spent lounging about, and a chance to put a little hair on our chins (or in Lindsey's and Alissa's case, a chance to break some nails).
But like I alluded to before, for some of us at Fischer Builders, construction is a way of life. This is not the case for me. I was born a Fischer, but not a Fischer Builder. Fortunately or unfortunately, the construction blood does not run through me. And every time I go back there to do something extremely manly, I cannot help but feel diminished by my cousins and fellow colleagues, who have been building houses and driving heavy machinery around since they were all fourteen years old or younger.
I am speaking mainly about my four cousins specifically, Chad, Nathan, Ryan, and Evan, who are the offspring of my dad's one-year-older (to-the-day) brother Greg and his lovely wife, Deb (they also have one daughter, the aforementioned Alissa). Anyway, these four gentlemen, who are all older than me (Evan being the youngest, older than me by a year) and were more or less born into the construction company, have all been described as gorgeous, exceedingly handsome men; and they all perform construction tasks as if it is second nature to them, or even first nature. The four of them all went into the Fischer Builders organization during high school and have been working there ever since, save Chad, the eldest.
Anyway, every time I go back to work for Fischer Builders, I somehow end up doing the most menial tasks possible, a.k.a. the bitch work, every time as I do not possess the skills and talents needed to perform the "real work." Most of time, I am working with Tyler or Jordan, who are not even Fischers at all, by the fact that they are the offspring of my father's oldest younger sister, Lori and her husband Dan Stroot (they also have one daughter, in between the two boys and my age, the aforementioned Lindsey). But Tyler and Jordan, still, are both better-looking and more athletic than I am, similar to Greg's boys. When I am working with them, though, I feel much more comfortable and much more equal (maybe because we're all doing bitch work!), and tend to have a pretty fun time, most of the time.
But when I am working with Ryan, Nathan, or Evan, I cannot help but feeling violently emasculated and exceedingly jealous when they can do something so well that I can't do at all. They seem to get by so easily when moving heavy loads around, or hopping on and off backhoes and forklifts and trucks. How could any girl like me? How could anyone find me attractive when I can't do that stuff? I feel so worthless when I am just standing around watching them do actual labor.
I got some leverage the other day, though, when the project was tearing the roof off of the old warehouse in which Fischer Builders houses its extra materials, and which Jordan, Tyler, and I had spent the last week cleaning out and organizing. I spent the first part of the morning tidying up some things with Nathan (made me feel like a dope), after which I reluctantly climbed up above and began tearing the roof off with my lesser-construction-minded cousins Tyler and Jordan, amongst others.
I was initially freaked out because heights really do not entice me, nor do ladders. These fears were heightened by the shoddy condition of the roof we were deconstructing. When I arrived, Tyler had already poked his foot through one of the many rotting boards that had been in place underneath the shingles. With the condition of the aging planks, it was only with much caution that we crossed stepping only on the rafters. Upon later interrogation, my cousin and veteran construction worker Ryan told that this roof was an "11" on the 1-10 scale of worst roofs he'd ever seen. Though I didn't believe him, I did watch and work as the rest of us did with careful consideration throughout the day pulling up shingles and nails, minding our steps and concentrating heavily on not killing ourselves.
As time went by, it became easier and easier to get the job done, I was able to get over my initial fears and put myself into hard work mode in order to accomplish my task. With all of us working together, we got the entire side done in a matter of hours, despite the ramshackle condition of the support boards underneath. By the end of the day, I was the last one of us part-time grandsons to actually finish the job with the other full-timers. The other part-timers had given up, wishing to finish the next day, leaving Jordan, Ryan, and I to combat the remainder of this beastly project, however dangerous and precariously close to the edge on the worst corner of the entire building it may have been. But nevertheless, we finished the job, and I had a great time doing it. I felt very fulfilled about the task I had just performed. I had fun, I conquered my fears, and in the end I felt much more equal to my other cousins. After participating in a family activity such as that, my masculinity had returned to me and I learned that in order to conquer your fears, you not only have to face your fears, but you must also embrace them.
posted by Leland J. Fischer at 2:23 PM
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