I'm back, Diary. Last time I told you about my idea of building a clubhouse out of our old garage doors. Jake and Art from Kellogg's lumber company left. They wouldn't help. They couldn't, they said. If they did, and my parents didn't want them to, Mister Kellogg would really get mad. He might even fire them.
I thought it might help if I could get Mother to side with me. She was all alone in the kitchen, getting supper ready. Thankfully, Dork wasn't there to mess up the whole thing. She was busy as can be. Still, I told her about my idea. The look she gave me could've bent steel. "Ask your father." That's all she said and went back to work again. Although her eyes were red hot, her words felt colder than an iceberg in Alaska. Sometimes, you'd think I enjoy jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Shouldn't have said a thing to her. Should I?
Hardly anyone in this house talks to Father anymore. He doesn't smile very much. He spends too much time at the Elks Club or some tavern in the country at night. Which makes him argue with Mother when he comes home. The next morning, his head must hurt a lot.
Back to the clubhouse. When Johnny Nelson and I were talking about my plan as we sat on Johnny's front steps, Mister Nelson, Johnny's dad, overheard us. He seemed more than interested. "I got a few questions," he said.
"Shoot," I said.
"What kind of door is your clubhouse gonna have?"
"I haven't even thought about a door. Yet."
Mister Nelson kind of laughed. Not a mean one, mind you. Just the kind when somebody is amused. "How about a window, or windows? You'll need one or more, don't you think?"
"Why?"
"Well, you'd like some light coming in, wouldn't you? Or else the inside of your building will most likely be darker than the inside of a cow's tookus. You wouldn't want that, would ya?"
"I don't have any money. Where could I get a window for free?"
"I got a couple of old ones in the garage. You can have one. Or you can have both. Makes no never mind to me."
"Jeez, thanks."
"Let's go look and see what you have," he said. "Maybe I can give you a few pointers. Your dad probably won't be able to help much. Most doctors don't know diddly about building things."
"Can I go?" asked Johnny.
"Course you can," said his dad. The three of us crossed the street and walked down the driveway and made our way to the back of our garage. Mister Nelson looked hard at the doors. "Not bad. Not bad, at all. I expected there'd be some rot on the bottom, but there isn't."
"I moved them by myself. They were against the side of the garage there." I pointed to the spot. "I pulled them on the grass, one at a time. They kind of slid like a sled on snow."
"Oh, yeah?" Mister Nelson looked long and hard at me as if he didn't believe me.
"Well, kind of." I felt my face turn red. Actually, it was very difficult to move them. But move them I did. I then told him about one door being the building's outer wall and the other, the roof. "The garage will be the inner wall," I explained.
"Gordy already told me that," said Johnny. "He's gonna need more wood than them doors, ain't he, Dad? I told him so."
"Say," said Mister Nelson, rubbing his chin, "I saw a bunch of one by sixes at Consolidated's private dump."
"One by sixes?" I didn't know what he was talking about. I'd heard of two by fours but not one by sixes.
"Yeah. One inch by six inch pine boards."
I'm sure being a diary, you don't know what Consolidated is, either. Do you? It's a huge paper mill in town that has thousands of workers. Bobby and Jimmy's dad works there. So does Mister Nelson. His name is Byron, not Brian. He's in charge of Consolidated's dams that hold back the Wisconsin River. The river used to be a white water rapids a long time ago. When just the Indians lived here. Which is why we're called Wisconsin Rapids. Mister Nelson sometimes is ordered by his boss to open almost all the dams' gates. Then "whoosh." The rapids come back again. Like the olden days. When Indians in teepees were the only people living here.
Then, the day comes when he's told to close all the gates. That's the same day he gives us neighborhood kids the news. The next day, we know the river will be down to normal, flowing its normal lazy coffee-colored self. We also know we'll catch plenty of carp in small, shallow pools that form between large rocks. We jump from boulder to boulder. Sometimes we can't make the jump. And then we get wet. No big deal. If the sun comes out, we're dry by the time we get home.
In those pools, we catch carp with our bare hands and toss them where there's no water. Of course, they die. We don't care. Nobody around here eats carp because our carp eat crap. So, they're good for nothing except maybe fertilizer for somebody's garden.
"Your little building would hold you and Johnny, but that's about all," said Mister Nelson.
"I thought it could hold maybe two other kids besides me."
"Nah, too small." Mister Nelson shook his head, which meant he was certain he was right.
"It doesn't matter," said Johnny.
"What doesn't matter?" asked his dad.
"Gordy hasn't asked his dad if he could build it yet."
Byron took in a deep breath before whistling it out. "Well, then," he said to me, "we're kinda putting the cart before the goat, aren't we?"
"I'll get his permission," I said. At least, I hoped I would.
"Once you do, I'll help you out with the material." Mister Nelson looked to Johnny. "Let's go." Then, he looked straight at me. "Let me know when Doc gives you the okay."
"I will. Thanks."
As they crossed the street, I wondered if Mother would warn Father about my plan and put the kibosh on it. Suddenly, I was so nervous I had to pee. Bad. So, I went to the back of the garage and peed there. I guess I'll find out soon enough if I'll have a clubhouse, won't I?
You'll be the first to know, Diary. I promise. Either way.
I thought it might help if I could get Mother to side with me. She was all alone in the kitchen, getting supper ready. Thankfully, Dork wasn't there to mess up the whole thing. She was busy as can be. Still, I told her about my idea. The look she gave me could've bent steel. "Ask your father." That's all she said and went back to work again. Although her eyes were red hot, her words felt colder than an iceberg in Alaska. Sometimes, you'd think I enjoy jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Shouldn't have said a thing to her. Should I?
Hardly anyone in this house talks to Father anymore. He doesn't smile very much. He spends too much time at the Elks Club or some tavern in the country at night. Which makes him argue with Mother when he comes home. The next morning, his head must hurt a lot.
Back to the clubhouse. When Johnny Nelson and I were talking about my plan as we sat on Johnny's front steps, Mister Nelson, Johnny's dad, overheard us. He seemed more than interested. "I got a few questions," he said.
"Shoot," I said.
"What kind of door is your clubhouse gonna have?"
"I haven't even thought about a door. Yet."
Mister Nelson kind of laughed. Not a mean one, mind you. Just the kind when somebody is amused. "How about a window, or windows? You'll need one or more, don't you think?"
"Why?"
"Well, you'd like some light coming in, wouldn't you? Or else the inside of your building will most likely be darker than the inside of a cow's tookus. You wouldn't want that, would ya?"
"I don't have any money. Where could I get a window for free?"
"I got a couple of old ones in the garage. You can have one. Or you can have both. Makes no never mind to me."
"Jeez, thanks."
"Let's go look and see what you have," he said. "Maybe I can give you a few pointers. Your dad probably won't be able to help much. Most doctors don't know diddly about building things."
"Can I go?" asked Johnny.
"Course you can," said his dad. The three of us crossed the street and walked down the driveway and made our way to the back of our garage. Mister Nelson looked hard at the doors. "Not bad. Not bad, at all. I expected there'd be some rot on the bottom, but there isn't."
"I moved them by myself. They were against the side of the garage there." I pointed to the spot. "I pulled them on the grass, one at a time. They kind of slid like a sled on snow."
"Oh, yeah?" Mister Nelson looked long and hard at me as if he didn't believe me.
"Well, kind of." I felt my face turn red. Actually, it was very difficult to move them. But move them I did. I then told him about one door being the building's outer wall and the other, the roof. "The garage will be the inner wall," I explained.
"Gordy already told me that," said Johnny. "He's gonna need more wood than them doors, ain't he, Dad? I told him so."
"Say," said Mister Nelson, rubbing his chin, "I saw a bunch of one by sixes at Consolidated's private dump."
"One by sixes?" I didn't know what he was talking about. I'd heard of two by fours but not one by sixes.
"Yeah. One inch by six inch pine boards."
I'm sure being a diary, you don't know what Consolidated is, either. Do you? It's a huge paper mill in town that has thousands of workers. Bobby and Jimmy's dad works there. So does Mister Nelson. His name is Byron, not Brian. He's in charge of Consolidated's dams that hold back the Wisconsin River. The river used to be a white water rapids a long time ago. When just the Indians lived here. Which is why we're called Wisconsin Rapids. Mister Nelson sometimes is ordered by his boss to open almost all the dams' gates. Then "whoosh." The rapids come back again. Like the olden days. When Indians in teepees were the only people living here.
Then, the day comes when he's told to close all the gates. That's the same day he gives us neighborhood kids the news. The next day, we know the river will be down to normal, flowing its normal lazy coffee-colored self. We also know we'll catch plenty of carp in small, shallow pools that form between large rocks. We jump from boulder to boulder. Sometimes we can't make the jump. And then we get wet. No big deal. If the sun comes out, we're dry by the time we get home.
In those pools, we catch carp with our bare hands and toss them where there's no water. Of course, they die. We don't care. Nobody around here eats carp because our carp eat crap. So, they're good for nothing except maybe fertilizer for somebody's garden.
"Your little building would hold you and Johnny, but that's about all," said Mister Nelson.
"I thought it could hold maybe two other kids besides me."
"Nah, too small." Mister Nelson shook his head, which meant he was certain he was right.
"It doesn't matter," said Johnny.
"What doesn't matter?" asked his dad.
"Gordy hasn't asked his dad if he could build it yet."
Byron took in a deep breath before whistling it out. "Well, then," he said to me, "we're kinda putting the cart before the goat, aren't we?"
"I'll get his permission," I said. At least, I hoped I would.
"Once you do, I'll help you out with the material." Mister Nelson looked to Johnny. "Let's go." Then, he looked straight at me. "Let me know when Doc gives you the okay."
"I will. Thanks."
As they crossed the street, I wondered if Mother would warn Father about my plan and put the kibosh on it. Suddenly, I was so nervous I had to pee. Bad. So, I went to the back of the garage and peed there. I guess I'll find out soon enough if I'll have a clubhouse, won't I?
You'll be the first to know, Diary. I promise. Either way.
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