"It’s the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.” - John Wooden
I’ve probably spent a good bit of my life looking up at ceilings. There are so many fascinating types. In many ways they often go unappreciated unless you are in a place like The Sistine Chapel. Maybe it’s the fact that standing six feet and seven inches I have a better view of them than most. Regardless, last week I was humbled by one, and, as is usually the case, had a number of life lessons re-taught as a result.
The man responsible for the lesson was my future father-in-law Joe. A master craftsman to be sure, the three days spent working alongside him both reminded me of some of my known shortcomings while at the same time building my confidence up in a way I hadn’t experienced before. The textbook for this lesson was drop ceiling.
In total, the project took us twenty hours to complete over three days. For our purpose here I will give a recap of each day.
Tuesday July 5, 2022
Usually, drop ceilings are fairly straightforward. If you are pretty good with numbers and math, two people can certainly accomplish the task of putting one up. Unfortunately for me, I am far from a left-brain thinker. Had Joe made a call to any of my math teachers at St. Ignatius High School he’d have been better prepared for the learning curve moments I would have to face ahead of me.
The day went rather smoothly as we trimmed out the room. As with most jobs, there were a few hiccups that involved some unplanned trips to Lowe’s. I spent the day holding up long pieces of trim while Joe used his nail gun to fasten them up. Nothing was done haphazardly; rather, Joe made sure to measure twice and cut once. I’ve heard the expression before and sadly failed to follow those words at various times in my life. I have always been someone that hurries through things. But, I have to say seeing it done literally really drives the message home. By the end of the day I was even trusted to use the nail gun!
Wednesday July 6, 2022
At the start of day two I was riding high. Feeling like I had contributed beyond the expectations I had set for myself going in, it was time to put together the grid. A couple of things made our second day on the job difficult. First, no walls are perfectly even. We were putting the ceiling up in a house built in 1920. Even the slightest difference threw everything off. Secondly, we had to begin cutting perfect circles into five tiles for the lights.
To do this Joe produced one of those compasses with a pencil attached and immediately PTSD set in from the absolute worst class of my academic career, Geometry. It became obvious that while this was my first drop ceiling installation, Joe couldn’t even count how many he had put in over the years and many of the things he did were done without thinking about them. It was second nature.
I immediately thought about how I’ve recently been teaching my youngest daughter Jane how to drive. Being a licensed driver for almost thirty years, I forget how much of operating a car is second nature, while for Jane it is not, as, she doesn’t have the reps. In this situation I was the new driver so to speak. I was grateful for Joe’s patience with me, something that would certainly be challenged on day three.
Thursday July 7, 2022
The detail and precision required for the third and final day was certainly out of my wheelhouse. It was time to cut the outside pieces and making the process more difficult was the fact that we were putting in a reveal tiled ceiling where the tiles hang a little below the metal holding them in place. Not only did we have to cut the tiles, but “scribe” them so they dropped in evenly.
Right away we figured out my ability to perform a “scribe” cut would lead to the sacrifice of too many tiles. Seeing as we did not have an infinite supply of them or unlimited time to do the project, I was relegated to measuring and doing the primary cut. It was prior to starting this that I hit my low point when I realized I didn’t know where the seven and five-eighths mark was on the measuring tape. Up until that point it was seven and ten notches.
The incredulous look Joe gave me when I came clean that I couldn’t locate the five-eighths notch was one of both disbelief and disappointment that won’t be forgotten. Here was a person I have long admired and looked up to and I couldn’t help but feel I had officially let him down. But, as any good teacher does, he shook his head and proceeded to teach me, a forty-five year old man, how to read the lines on a ruler. This then enabled me to finish the job efficiently—except for the tile I ruined when I was off by two inches due to becoming a bit overconfident—and to Joe’s liking.
All in all it was quite an experience that I am truly grateful for. Looking back at it now, I was kind of like the guy riding in the sidecar while Joe drove the motorcycle. But, by the time we finished, I was a passenger that could finally read a measuring tape.
Thanks Joe.
-Tommy O’Sionnach
I put a dimmer switch in by myself once. And I’ve been riding that accomplishment for years, like a one-hit wonder rock group. 😁
You had a great teacher! Joe is a pro. He is a patient and kind man. I certainly know that you learned a lot from him, because you too are a kind and patient man.