Guerrilla Home Improvement

Early one morning two weeks ago I was driving from Baton Rouge to Lafayette on business. As Iurned onto Interstate 10 from Hwy 415 I saw a hitchhicker standing on the entrance ramp, looking pretty forlon. Not unusual. There are lots of older men trying to get across the country to a better opportunity. The grass is always greener...

I've got a soft spot for these guys, and if I've got the time and they don't look too dirty or dangerous, I'm likely to offer them a lift. Who knows, maybe this time they'll make it. Anyway, their stories are usually interesting.

So I pulled over & asked him where he was going. "Dallas."

"I'm only going to Lafayette, but you can catch I-49 from there." He threw his bag in the back seat & slid in. A tall thin man , he didn't look drunk or dangerous.

As I drove, he told me his story. His name was Michael Crook, on his way back home to Dallas from Bay St. Louis. A master painter who'd been lured to Mississippi with the promise of a $20/hour job, when he got there the guy said he'd hired a bunch of "wetbacks" and didn't need him, but if he wanted to hang around he'd pay him $8 or $10/hour. That wasn't what Michael had signed up for, so having spent all his money on a bus ticket down, he was hitchhiking back to Dallas.

We talked on. He told me he did plastering and sheet rock. He expounded on all sorts of technical minutie about different brands of paint and plaster. He really sounded like he knew his business. By the time we got to Lafayette I was trying to figure out how to hire this guy.

He gave me his sister's phone number & a few days later I called. It seems she's been helping Michael and his wife for some time when things get bad. I told her that I had some work for him and I'd pay his way back down here, but if he wasn't really skilled, then she would be doing nobody a favor by telling me he was, cause he'd just end up stranded in New Orleans with no way home. She assured me he was good at his craft.

So I sent the money; Michael caught the bus with his trunk full of tools and dropcloths; and here he is. He moved into the guest room in the cabana, the one room which is not a total wreck after the pecan tree fell through the roof, and started work last Friday. And yes, he does know his craft.

Where there were huge holes in our bedroom and hall ceiling, all is smooth and beautiful. Where there was mold, the surfaces were treated with bleach, sealed and painted. The attic was treated. The ceilings and walls are being painted, and we'll soon be on to start working on the office.

Things are looking up.