Editor’s note: Steve Alden Nelson is a Caledonia native, the son of
the late Margaret and Alden Nelson. He currently lives in Los Angeles,
and works in the entertainment industry. His column “Letters home”
appears periodically in the Argus.
Dude,
I know it’s been awhile since my last letter, but I’ve been busy
working on my house. Yeah, that is a pretty lame excuse for not
writing, but I didn’t want to bore you with the details (until now).
Working on a house is a relatively new concept for me. As kids growing
up on Kingston Street in Caledonia, we weren’t big on fixing things up,
or fixing things at all. My folks were busy raising 12 kids on a very
limited budget. There was really no point in trying to keep up with the
constant wear and tear on the house. Besides, we didn’t even own a
toolbox.
Now, here I am, a middle-aged man who, until six years ago, had spent
my entire adult life in rented apartments. Maintenance and upkeep of my
temporary living spaces was unheard of. To me, a burned out light bulb
was a sign to pack up my stuff and find new digs.
I can’t remember how many places I’ve lived, but I can tell you that by
the time I left UW-La Crosse, and moved to Minneapolis, I’d amassed
more former addresses than college credits. That might explain why,
instead of being launched onto the professional stage, I started my
post-college career wearing a paper hat and an apron while working the
graveyard shift at a donut shop just down the street from the Guthrie
Theatre. (I’ll tell you about that later.)
Anyway, I’m reminded every day just how much time and work goes into
keeping a whole house from falling apart! Don’t get me wrong. I love
living here. I actually enjoy the sense of satisfaction that comes with
fixing things, painting, stripping woodwork, etc., the whole nine
yards.
Most recently I finished staining our really big deck on the west side.
To give you an idea of just how large it is, it’s more than three times
the size of my last apartment in New York. Of course, that was a really
small apartment, but you get the drift.
Now, as I’m sure you know, when you take on a home improvement task,
everything always takes longer than you thought it would. I lost track
of how much time passed between start and finish with the staining
project, because I got distracted by silly things like eating,
sleeping, and trying to make a living. But it took a long, long time.
So, here’s what I’ve decided to do from now on. I’ll pretend I’m on one
of those extreme makeover shows. (But on the deck project I didn’t need
to tear down the entire house and rebuild it in seven days. I just had
to finish putting down two coats of stain before the raccoons decided
that my deck was the perfect place for sunset mud wrestling).
I’ll have an imaginary group of strangers bringing me coffee and donuts
every morning, and when the job is done (in record time), my fans will
cheer and weep for joy.
Better yet, I’ll pretend to see myself hopping into a limousine on my
way to spending a week on a desert island drinking rum punch.
Meanwhile, hundreds of volunteers will go to work on my house. They’ll
sweat and slave around the clock for seven days and nights. When
I’m chauffeured back home, the crowd will go wild at the unveiling of
the finished project, and it’ll be way better than anybody had
imagined. Then, just like on the show, there will be an absolutely
free, brand new car parked in my driveway. Oh well, I can dream.
Anyway, I was back in Caledonia a couple of weeks ago to see family and
friends. As usual, I took a ride past the old place on Kingston Street.
It’s still standing, so whoever lives there must be pretty handy!
More later.
Peace,
Steve
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