This year finds me especially thankful for my personal experience with a genuine producer, Mary. She's an attorney, a good mother, an office/operations manager, actively involved in her town, my personal general contractor and home improvement consultant, and much more. I count my many blessings.
While we're counting, here's a snapshot of the latest fruit of our labor.
Gone now is a 20 year old small metal medicine cabinet. This one is a foot wider and, as you can see, wood. It's loaded with space for my supplies and Mary's. This combined with the increased acreage in the vanity has gone a long way to boost my condo's eventual resale value as well as its value to me now.
Technical note: With just the two of us trying to mount this big, bulky thing to the wall as neatly as possible, I turned my attention to options for handling that. The thought of my arms shaking and tiring quickly while Mary, properly, took her time to get the positioning just right was solid motivation. The idea I came up with was scaffolding. Two plastic crates proved to be perfect foundations for this idea. We mounted them over the faucets and then added my drill case, a couple of one inch wood blocks, and, finally, a few shims to get everything perfectly level and positioned at precisely the right height. From there, all I had to do was to hold the cabinet steady while Mary drilled the holes and applied the toggle bolts into the dry wall.
The light fixture above it is new too. The previous light fixture was built into the old cabinet. It was a dusty mess. The electrician I hired on Mary's recommendation did an excellent job. He had to punch a hole in the wall to install a junction box and then snake a wire to handle the lights at the higher level you see here to make room for this healthy sized medicine cabinet.
While the electrician was here, I had him install an electrical outlet on the kitchen wall. Not having one there had been forcing me into having electrical cords straying across traffic paths. Things are much neater now...thanks to this particular producer—my electrician.
2007 has been a year of productive effort from the following crew:
- Carpet installers (Lowe's)
- Tile installers (Lowe's)
- Painters (me and Mary, especially Mary's knowledge of patching all kinds of holes)
- Ceiling scrapers (me and Mary)
- Furniture movers/installers (me and Mary) and toilet remover/installer (me)
- Plumbers (Lowe's dishwasher installation & Fletcher's rebuilding my washer/dryer pipes)
- Washer/dryer mover—(me; This was one of my biggest coups. I found a set of heavy duty metal casters at Lowe's to deal with the substantial challenge of moving my large washer/dryer from a very tight space alone. It was a job for 2 young, fit men. Narrowly avoiding the loss of the tip of one of my fingers, I managed to perch (precariously) the washer/dryer onto the casters and then fought it past the old carpet tacking that was still under it. Once I got it clear of its narrow confines, I finished mounting the washer/dryer safely onto the casters with Mary's welcome assistance. The casters now sit permanently under the washer/dryer for easy maintenance—just roll that puppy out as if were in a drawer!
- Town dump transporters (me and Mary)
- Linoleum removers (me and Lowe's)
- Wallpaper removers (me and Mary)
- Wallpaper installers (Mary and her apprentice, me)
All this and more was a logical extension of my decades long integration of Ayn Rand's ideas (Objectivism) into the fabric of my life. Ideas are not mere words that float in conversations...if you take ideas seriously. Ideas are calls to action. Honoring an idea in action requires you to do something many don't do—hold context across time.
"Life is good" my friends often hear me say. Well, that fact is now vividly evident in the structure of my home, literally from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. The permanence of lovely tile states it clearly, calmly, and surely. The sturdy, reflective wallpaper echoes it lightly. The new ceiling fan and light fixtures echo it. My new furniture and high definition TV (pics forthcoming) reflect it.
Holding context across the decades of my life, I have passed by the disappointing spirits that gave up along the way, thinking that maturity consisted of abandoning the eternally youthful vision projected in Ayn Rand's writing. Few things are more immature than such a spiritual surrender.
So, here I am, 30 years after reading the introduction to the 25th anniversary edition of The Fountainhead, wrapping up condo renovations to set the stage for the next stage of my life and the welcome challenges it holds.
That said, let me give thanks to the most important passage of non-fiction I ever read:
The best of mankind’s youth start life with an undefined sense of enormous expectation, the sense that one’s life is important, that great achievements are within one’s capacity, and that great things lie ahead.
It is not in the nature of man—nor of any living entity—to start out by giving up, by spitting in one’s own face and damning existence; that requires a process of corruption whose rapidity differs from man to man. Some give up at the first touch of pressure; some sell out; some run down by imperceptible degrees and lose their fire, never knowing when or how they lose it. Then all of these vanish in the vast swamp of their elders who tell them persistently that maturity consists of abandoning one’s mind; security, of abandoning one’s values; practicality, of losing self-esteem. Yet a few hold on and move on, knowing that the fire is not to be betrayed, learning how to give it shape, purpose and reality. But whatever their future, at the dawn of their lives, men seek a noble vision of man’s nature and of life’s potential.
There are very few guideposts to find. The Fountainhead is one of them.
That is one of the cardinal reasons of The Fountainhead’s lasting appeal: it is the confirmation of the spirit of youth, proclaiming man’s glory, showing how much is possible.
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