We all have our special cultural connections, and this is not to stereo-type but come on now. We know if we want a great slice of Pizza we go to New york to an Italian Pizzeria. I don't care where Pizza originated from, New York Pizza is best.
I knew this older man and loved to watch him make repairs. He worked in my aunts house sometimes and would wear faded overalls, a white tee shirt, boots and a cap. His hammer hung from that little piece of jean material, like carpenters jeans today and he always had a pencil in his ear. His name was Hansen. I know it sounds like a last name but we were told it was his first name.
Hansen would stop working when he saw us kids come around and talk about his latest project, a special bookcase bed for a seven year-old. We also learned the seven year old used a wheelchair. That little boy Arnie lived next to my aunt. My aunt let Hansen use her house and basement to do the work while Arnie's parents worked during the day. I also learned Hansen was making this for just about nothing. He knew the people had a lot of bills with Arnie in his wheelchair, so he accepted lunch on Saturdays and very little pay. Hansen went to the carpenters union to get scraps.
Those guys were mostly all Norwegians and knew what Hansen was doing
for that little boy and his family. So to even say scraps is stretching the truth.
Hansen loved teak wood and it was Spring, so he drew pictures. He drew so many pictures about the bed, how Arnie would get in and out, how he would reach the books, a special hidden drawer for just Arnie. It was almost time to start work, putting it together.
So now he has his drawings, fingers worn from refining his pictures, pencils broken and a spot of hair on the right side of his head shorter than the rest from scratching and his load of wood. He now needed screws which were expensive, not just any screws but wooden screws. He wouldn't use too many because he was going to dovetail as many sides, tops and bottoms as possible. He had wood glue, sand paper and was almost ready to start when he realized something was missing, but what?
Snap! He snapped his fingers remembering. He needed two saw horses. The set he had just wouldn't do as he wanted everything level and perfect. As us kids watched him pace we asked, Hansen, what is it? What's wrong? He turned and said kids, you vant to help right? Can you get me more vood? Ask your parents if they have an old table yah? Hansen thought he could make two saw horses from a couple of tables. Soon a couple of dads were hauling some old battered and weathered picnic tables to Hansen. Apologizing, they said, Hansen this is the best we could do!
Oh yah, yah, dis vill vork very vell, tank you, tank you everyone!
The men with Hansen pulled apart legs and strips of wood and then put it together to form two saw horses. After careful measurements Hansen said, ahh Dis is perfect, yah? The grown-ups and kids at once yelled, yah!!! Hansen said vell, it is getting dark now, I vill start early tomorrow. Saturday morning is a goot time to begin. I vill have fresh coffee and a crumb bun.
Saturday moring came and Hansen showed up coffee in hand but no crumb bun. One of the grown-up said Hi Hansen,what no buns? Hansen said, vell, vell they were all gone ven I get there yah? Maybe Monday. In the next few seconds about fifteen neighbors showed up with boxes of crumb buns. A few women had big coffee Thermos's with cups, cream, and saucers.
Some of the men stayed to help if needed and everyone else went home. Hansen started with the headboard. With crafty and educated hands he measured twice, cut once, did the dovetails, prepared the secret drawer. That drawer would hold many wishes over the next years as Arnie grew up. All it took to open it was first knowing it was there and that secret was between Hansen and Arnie., and how to open it. Shh, I can't tell.
Hansen made the bookshelf in the headboard and added a lip so it would hold the books in. He added the same shelf at the foot board, but adding it on the outside end. That way Arnie could reach a book from both ends, while in or out of bed. He took out his chisel, a smaller one at first. Just before starting he drew dovetail lines. Then he made the side rails, added opposite dovetails joints. He connected the side rails and head and foot boards adding a small amount of glue before pressing all of the joints together.
Then he sanded again. He sanded all of the pieces first, and now again. Now once more he took out his chisel, drew and carved, and carved some more at the bottom of the foot board. Cutting a scrap of sandpaper he sanded the small chisel openings. Hansen made a special drawer to slide under the bed. Arnies' mom and dad had little space. This drawer was made so Arnie could pull on a string and it would come out and pop up.
While it was close to being finished he knew he needed more time, a day or two and Hansen didn't work on Sundays.
Hansen and two men carefully loaded it into my aunts basement until Monday. Well Monday came, but so did sadness. Brooklyn had an unusual storm, and my aunts basement became flooded, a wall of bricks came down and Arnie's bed was smashed beyond repair. Hansen's face was a look of devastation. The two men behind him couldn't believe what happened. Softly one neighbor asked, Hansen, what now? Hansen grinned and said vell, vat do ya tink? I make another one, yah? Right away he called the Norwegian Carpenters, and before he knew it, a truck pulled up and men jumped out with more than enough in supplies.
The block was alive buzzing with the news of Hansen's devotion to make Arnie's special bed. Arnie's mom and dad went to work, and Arnie was at school, also saddened by what happened, but they never saw the truck arrive or the response on the block.
More neighbors, coffee and crumb buns, tools, stain, screws, sandpaper, saw horses, levels, wood glue and chisels, and hands. More hands that could ever be needed for one bed. But now it was about friendship and neighbors, and love for a little boy and his special need. Hansen wanted it finished by that night, so now he asked for anyone who worked with tools to do what they could and he needed fans.
It looked like a movie was being made on that street. My aunts house became a lunch counter, restroom, and break room. Men were busy hammering, sanding, making dovetails, leveling and measuring twice, cutting once.
There were two things for just Hansen to do. He was to do the secret drawer and that other something at the bottom of the bed. Out he took his chisels and pencils. He started to draw his special project. The whole bed was stained and fans were fanning it dry to be ready when the family came home that night.
The beautiful teak wood glistened in the early evening sun and just as Hansen finished the last of his chiseling and sanding, a van, then a car pulled up.
The block filled with onlookers. It was a picture of men in overalls, hammers, all kinds of tools, empty coffee cups, dreary eyes and slumped shoulders. Ladies were wiping their eyes and men were wiping sweat. Women were sewing a bedspread and curtains, finishing that up too. These families were hands full of worn life lines, creases of knowledge lined foreheads, hands calloused and backs bent, yet, yet they lived. They lived to show one little boy named Arnie that he was loved just as much as anyone, and had as much to offer in life as anyone else did.
Arnie's mom and dad cried as they looked at the bed, at everyone who stood before them clapping, hugging and crying. Arnie with tears in his eyes saw the bottom of the bed. In it was carved, ARNIE. Then he was shown his secret Drawer. Arnie asked for a piece of paper, sat and wrote a letter to himself, a first wish. Before he put it in his drawer he asked Hansen to read it to everyone and said, this is the only wish you all get to know. That paper read like this:
When I grow up I want to be a carpenter !
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