And evidently a small army to pour porch footers and stem walls.

Austin woke me out of a deep sleep on a rare nap to ask if I could come ‘stand by’ while he poured the footers and stem walls on his front porch.

I knew he had it all formed up already, so I didn’t figure it would take a whole lot to get done.

Arriving at Austin’s place, I scanned the porch stem walls he had formed up and noted that he had done a very good job of stabilizing and bracing everything.  I pushed here and there on the forms and they hardly wiggled as I remembered back to a hot Saturday morning over twenty years ago when I was about Austin’s age and had a similar front porch formed up and ready to pour.

Except my forms wiggled. 

Greatly. 

And the plywood I used was too thin.

The truck driver took one look at my setup and said, “It ain’t gonna hold.”

I said, “Well, let’s at least try.”

My forms didn’t hold, and we soon had all of us pushing and shoving, grunting and sweating, in one massive attempt to contain the soupy concrete that seemed determined to scale the walls and make some grotesque reptilian monster of itself in my front yard.

We managed to save it, although all four walls definitely leaned and were bowed out when I took the forms off.

But, looking over Austin’s setup, I was relieved to see we wouldn’t have that problem.

Other than that, he wanted to double check the square of things, and after a few minor adjustments in that area, we were looking towards town for the truck that was about 10 minutes late.

About then his phone rang, and it was the truck driver, wanting directions.

We spotted him sitting at Tim’s place, a half mile southwest of us. 

I was impressed with the driver.  He eased in slow and careful like, and, considering his 20 something years was surprised he was as careful as he was.

We discussed how to approach the porch and he was soon backed up and in place.

His ‘mud’, or concrete, seemed plenty dry, so we had the driver add some water.

Soon it looked right, and we started pouring in the back northeast corner. 

Austin wondered if the tin that comprised the skirting on his house would hold the back of it.  But I thought it would, since he had it foam insulated on the inside, and I knew that foam added a lot of strength.

I was in the middle of telling him as much when the whole thing shifted south about four inches. 

We went from square and sturdy to unsquared and squirrely in a blink of an instant as one of the boards spanning the top of the forms failed when the screw holding it in place pulled through. 

I thought we might be able to build a sort of pry bar system with a stake and a long length of 2×4 resting against the stake at the bottom and against the top of the form. 

It was easily built but offered nothing in the way of redemption.

Austin was quick thinking though and realizing that the outside wall was compromised only on the south side, cut a four-inch section out of the back wall that allowed us to push only one wall back in place rather than trying to move the whole form setup that was now partially filled with mud. 

Of course, this left the inside walls all askew.

But what did we care? 

They were going to get covered up anyway, and a little more mud would strengthen things.

Thus, we continued.

Until I happened back around to the north side of the forms.

A dirty deed had happened all on its lonely, it seemed.

The whole north wall had splayed out.  At least 10 inches. 

I was dumbfounded. 

Why were all these sturdy forms going to smash?

So, we stopped again.  (Thankfully, our truck driver seemed extremely longsuffering with us.)

I thought maybe if I got Austin’s pickup backed in there, we could put a 2×4 against his receiver hitch and back up, forcing that obstinate form back into place.

It took quite a while to get his truck in there, as I only had 15 feet to work with as I tried to move sideways and into place. 

Finally in place, we set things together and I put it into reverse.

And promptly spun out.

So, I put it into four-wheel drive low, and tried again.

And promptly spun out again.

About then, Austin asked, “Shall we break it all apart and start over some other day?”

But I couldn’t really see that, because then all that soupy mud would flow out into some grotesque reptilian creature that we would have to jack hammer into bits so it could be hauled off.

I was still pondering all this, sitting in the cab of Austin’s truck, when I saw a phantom appearance in my peripheral vision.

“Surely not,” I thought.

For what seemed to appear into real flesh was a whole army, armed with what at first in my exhausted vision seemed to be spears but latter turned out to be stakes and more stakes.

And men.  Battering ram tough men.

It was then I saw another wall had splayed.

Somehow, Both Tims, Seth, and Trenny, who were in the middle of putting on siding, on the other side of the garage, had sensed our quandary and just showed up.

Sledgehammers swung with immense force.

When the stakes they brought were used up they made better and bigger out of 2×4’s.

I heard a telehandler revving its engine, and in a small hurry it was positioned, instead, where I had been with Austin’s truck. 

Those sprawled out forms were no match for the hydraulic pressure applied against them and they straightened right back up.

Or mostly.

I sure wonder what that truck driver thought as he saw Tim’s crew and Austin, (I seemed to have bleared out) spring into action were action was so desperately wanting.

In ten minutes time, or maybe even less, all was good and the pour continued.

And as suddenly as they showed up, that capable army drifted back to their work.

Only one wall is a bit splayed.  Well, all of them are splayed into the inside, but that doesn’t matter.  And I think Austin will be able to fix that one wall easily enough by firring out some pieces of wood to take up the gap and then his stone can attach to that.

In retrospect, I wonder if we didn’t have that truckdriver get his mud a little too wet for what we were trying to do and the ponderous weight of all that liquid equally exerted in all directions, found every nook and cranny it could to exploit itself against us.

*****

It wasn’t the first time it happened to me. 

But it wasn’t lost on me either.

It seems when we humans get about so deep into misfortune, whatever type that may seem to be, that we sort of phase down to a primal level of living and not a whole lot of constructive living gets done.

And when help comes, it almost seems better to step back and let the help get the job done according to their criteria.

I sure hope Tim’s crew felt a blessing from their efforts.

I know I sure did.

Written in the air between Liberal and Denver