The Shack: A Year in Review: Part 1

It's true. The Shack adventure has officially been going on for over a year. The date we took possession of the new house was December 1st, 2008, and here we are on December 8th, 2009. And what an interesting year it has been. For the rest of the month of December I plan to reflect on what the experience has been like so far (as well as include any new and exciting developments should they come about), building up to a fairly full retrospective in pictures, hopefully to be released around New Year's. I will begin at the beginning, that seeming to be a logical place, and take you back to when I first discovered the Shack, and retell the thrilling tale of how the Shack got its name.

I remember walking into the Shack for the first time on that aforementioned December 1st. There was no furniture, little carpet, and an air of unkemptness to the whole place (which went along with the air of not-a-very-pleasant-smell). I was with Mom, as Dad was out of town somewhere. Where, I am not sure. Probably BC, the lucky man. Having toured the place with my uncle Gord earlier, she pointed out a couple of terrific features, one being the floor in the master bedroom. A fix job had been done on it using, not any logical floor-materials, but particle board. Because of this, that section of floor sank a good 3-6 inches when you set foot on it. We also had a task that very cold evening, to install a hasp for a padlock on the back door, because at that point the Shack did not actually lock properly (not that there was anything valuable in there, but for insurance reasons/plain old fashioned logical ones, this had to be done). It was fairly difficult to do in the - now gone - dimly lit attached shed with winter gloves making both our sets of hands remarkably less nimble, but eventually we got it on right, and nobody died (an accomplishment, considering I was handling the drill).

Later that night, I spoke to Dad on the phone. He asked what I had thought of the new house. Taking into careful consideration all the factors - the uncleanliness, the sinking floors, the upstairs bathroom sink which at that time didn't even have a faucet, the basement in general, the crumbling foundation, etcetera, I chose my words carefully. The words that I remember speaking a full year ago (repeated elsewhere on this blog, I'm sure), were, "You cannot even call that thing a house. It's more like a shack." This, I believe, was the pivotal moment, for it was then that this house was first referred to as a shack (later to become the Shack, the definite article used because we're talking about a particular shack here, same notation for the capital letter on "Shack"). The label given to this place at that moment is essentially responsible for the way everything else happened. Yes, the shop would've still been built, I still would've moved against my will, we would've still knocked down the porch, etcetera, but it is the name Shack that has given this whole experience a somewhat surreal feeling, a spirit that it otherwise may lack. The Shack is no longer merely a name. The Shack is a way of life.

That is how this tremendous affair began. Little did I know one year ago that I would really be living in this place now. I was aware that it was a possibility, but nothing was definite yet at that point. Stay tuned for part 2 of my year in review. It will include thoughts on Dad's revamping of the Shack to make it inhabitable, and quite possibly something else!