Now as anyone knows who has been around some, in California back in the 1800’s, the Catholic Church was one of the first major improvements for any town. And the town just naturally grew around the church. Since Livermore was founded in 1869, you know that by the time we lived in that house a hundred years later, it had seen some kids.
That house was built sturdy. Full, real 2” x 4” studs. With 1” lath boards on each side of the wall, then tar paper, chicken wire, and hand smoothed plaster. Inside walls were close to 7” thick. Outside the 1” lath was sheathed in a second layer of ship-lap boards from dirt to sky.
The windows were the old sash type. Glass panes held in wooden frames that slid up and down inside of a grooved wooden track; complete with ropes, pulleys and counter-balance weights so that they would stay up. The glass was held in from the outside. Fitted into a recess that was cut in the sliding frame, with metal triangle “glazer points” hammered in to hold the 4 corners, and all four edges sealed in place with putty.
Did you know that glass is like a liquid? Yep, sure is. Break a really old window, one that has been standing on edge for decades, and you will see that the bottom is thicker than the top. Every time.
One day, my brothers and I had to help our father as he replaced a window that had been broken. I can’t tell you how it got broke, but I would guess that we boys had had something to do with it. At the time, I remember being some put out over the fact that we had to help. That was work. And everyone knew that boys shouldn’t be made to work when the sun is shining.
At least everyone except our father.
I came to realize later though, that that 30 minute lesson in window replacement was some of the best invested time of my life. That 30 minutes provided more play time than I can possibly even begin to calculate.
You see, as the years progressed, my brother’s and I broke an additional window or two in the place.
There were the two or three that got broke from BB and Pellet gun wars in the house while Mom and Dad were at work, and the couple few that a shoulder, head, or other body part (or whole) got shoved through, and some thrown books, toys, and other “objects at hand” accounting for some glass truth be told, and I would be remiss if I didn’t include the one we shot an arrow through I suppose. And while it pains me to admit to anything as mundane as a thrown rock, I guess I should fess up that we even broke a couple that way too.
But, after that window replacement lesson, there was nothing that could calm the fires of open hostility quite like the sound of breaking glass.
Maybe the US should try that in the Mideast. Fly them drones over the cities with a loop tape of glass crashing to the ground. Certainly couldn’t hurt.
In any case, before the last shard of glass actually hit the ground, my brothers and I would have ceased the fight, and launched into an amazingly choreographed routine. It looked like this:
We all broke for our rooms and our secret money stashes, I’d grab all the bills that we had, race out the back door and jump on my bike, headed downtown in a sprint that would have been hard for a drug fueled Lance Armstrong to keep up with.
Barry would grab a tape measure, broom, and dust pane; Jeff a hammer and chisel.
Jeff would go to work chipping out the old, hard glazing putty, being careful at the corners to save the metal triangles for reuse. Barry would measure the window size and call the glass shop to order up the right size cut, then proceed to gather sweep up, and bury the broken glass.
By the time I made the 4 blocks down to the glass shop, the guy would be snapping off the last side. I’d pay for the new pane, tuck it under my left arm, jump back on the bike and head for home.
When I got there, Jeff would have the frame cleaned out and ready, Barry would have the glazing putty can opened and the linseed oil stirred back into it, and we would tilt the pane in place, drive the glazer points, and work two sides and the bottom with putty all at the same time. Six kid hands can lay a lot of putty in short order is all I’m saying.
If’n the three of us had been smart, we’d a gone in business. We could have a new pane set in less than 20 minutes from the sound of tinkling glass. There wasn’t a glass shop in town that could match that.
Several times we finished up just as Mom and Dad pulled into the driveway from work. I know for a fact we escaped restrictions and punishments on any number of occasions cause they never knew we had broken a window.
Come to think of it, not only did that 30 minute lesson give me more playtime, it also gave me hours of more comfortable sitting too.
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