It's Funday ~ Labor Dazed ~ by Skip

 

Labor Dazed: The Day Woodsterman’s Hammer-Go-Round

Went Sideways (and Wound Up the Best-Darn Plan That

Ever Tried to Fall Apart)

On the first Saturday in September, at the crack of dawn, Odie "Woodsterman"  cranked up his chainsaw in a way that was more like playing reveille than cutting wood. Lake Tahoe was still all foggy, but Odie was up and at 'em, walking around his messy yard behind his workshop, The Hollow Log Workshop, sketching away on a piece of an old shingle while humming "John Henry" kinda off-key.

Odie had decided to dedicate this Labor Day to all the folks who had to get up before the sun did their thing: the plumbers, the guys who sawed down trees for a living, the ranchers, the roofers, and even the baristas who brewed coffee for those early birds. And what better way to show them love than by building a big ol' wooden carousel shaped like a hammer? Nothing says "thank you" quite like a whimsical ride made out of maple, oak, and some seriously iffy welds, right?

But here's where things took a turn. He picked out a tree that looked like it could've been used to build Noah's Ark, but when he tried to cut it down, it ended up crashing through his creek bridge and knocking off three mailboxes. And let's not forget the fountain of water that shot into the neighbor's yard. Mrs. Wickersham, not too happy to say the least, came out in her hair curlers and an Eagles jersey ready to give him a piece of her mind. But all Odie did was tip his baseball cap with its "Chief Troublemaker" patch and said, "Just a little structural rearranging, ma'am. I'll sort it out."

So now, with a pine tree half in the water and half in the bushes, Odie had to get creative. He called on everyone who passed by to help, promising donuts, coffee, and a chance to be part of something legendary, or at least something that'd be talked about for a while. Before long, he had a ragtag group of folks like Mason from Java Joint, Lila the mail carrier, and three paddle-boarders who looked like they'd seen better days. They all worked together to get that tree out of there with nothing but a makeshift winch made from a wheelbarrow axle and some old ski-lift cable. It was like watching a junior-high dance, except with more sweat and fewer awkward moments.

Once inside the workshop, the real chaos began. Odie's plan was to make the seats of the carousel look like nail heads, but that's easier said than done. It took a whole lot of jig sawing and a bit too much whiskey for the band-saw to get even close to what he wanted. The place was a mess, with wood chips flying everywhere and Lila trying to sand down a handle that looked like it belonged to Thor's hammer.

But they persevered, and by 1:47 in the afternoon, they had all the seats attached—except they were all on the wrong way. Odie didn't notice though, and when he went for a test ride, he ended up launching himself into a pile of sawdust like he was in a cartoon. Everyone just stared for a second, then burst out laughing. Mrs. Wickersham even clapped, her curlers bobbing like they were doing a little dance.

That's when it hit Odie. Maybe the whole point of the day wasn't to build a perfect carousel. Maybe it was about the mess and the laughs, the kind of joy that only comes from a backyard project gone slightly off the rails. So he switched gears and turned the carousel into a funky sculpture, calling it "Laborers Rest Here." They strung up aprons like it was a festival and slapped on a coat of paint. Kids scribbled notes of thanks all over the place for moms and dads who had sore feet and banged-up knuckles.

Three o'clock rolled around, and the potluck bell rang out—an old saw blade that Odie hit with a hammer. The smell of chili verde and smoky maple filled the air. They played Springsteen's "Working on the Highway" and had a grand ol' time. Mason served coffee in mugs that Odie had made that very morning, each one a little wonky, but all the better for it.

As the sun started to set, Odie climbed onto a picnic bench and rang the bell to get everyone's attention. "I wanted to give you all a ride," he said, his hands all sticky with tar, "but instead, we made each other a day off. Maybe that's the real deal." He held up his chainsaw like he was proposing a toast, and everyone cheered, their cups clinking together.

Mrs. Wickersham, who'd been giving him the stink eye all morning, handed him a casserole that was still warm from her oven. "You had me fuming earlier," she whispered, "but now you've got my driveway looking like the Fourth of July. I'll bring deviled eggs next year."

As the night grew darker, the laughter and stories grew quieter until everyone was just sitting around the glow of the lanterns, looking up at the hammer sculpture. It was like a wonky monument to hard work. And just before Odie passed out in his hammock, he heard Mason sing a line from an old union song: "No one works alone... no one rests alone..."

And as he drifted off, the thought that maybe Labor Day wasn't about the perfect tools or the perfect plan, but about regular folks who work hard and deserve a good laugh before the grind starts again on Tuesday filled his head. And with that, he fell asleep under the pine boughs, ready to wake up to a fresh day of sawdust.

Thanks Skip