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Season 9, Week 3, In Another Castle
Mar. 30th, 2014 08:10 pmSeason 9, Week 3
In Another Castle
I need my father’s forgiveness. My father is “Lightning” Lee Castle, the man who ruined the Castle name. I went one better. I turned my back on him.
Lightning (everyone called him that, even me) was the son of the legendary Harry Castle, owner of Castle Construction: “A Man’s Home is His Castle”. When my father graduated from high school, it became Castle & Son Construction. It was a stretch to say Castle & Son was a construction company. My grandfather was a handyman, and proud of it.
Harry could do it all – carpentry, electrical, plumbing, painting, appliance repair, sprinklers (back before they became irrigation systems). Anything. He charged a fair price for excellent work. Harry’s favorites were what he called “rescues.” Homeowners would start something, get in over their heads, and call Harry. He never made his clients feel incompetent and he showed them what to do next time. Next time, most of them called Harry to begin with.
Harry taught Lightning what to do – the right way, not the easy way. “Measure twice, cut once” was his religion and "the right tool for the right job" his mantra. Green wires were always for ground, black and red were hot, and white was neutral.
Lightning was fast – usually too fast for Harry: “What’s your hurry, son?” Lightning worked hard, no question there. Plus, he was good with customers. Lightning talked a lot, sometimes a little too quickly, but everyone liked him. He was also good at selling elaborate ideas. My father didn’t deliberately create grand projects, but Harry could always find simpler, less expensive ways to do them.
We lived in an older city, so there was always plenty of work. When Harry finally retired, business was booming. My father wanted out of his father’s shadow, so Castle Construction became Lightning Lee Construction. Lightning had big, unfocused dreams, but Harry couldn’t really let go and he started to meddle; they were constantly fighting. Finally, Harry moved to Florida and passed away several years later. That spared him from what came later.
My father was almost certainly manic. He did not have an "off" switch. Lightning’s big ideas became bigger, more than the homeowner needed or wanted. He worked too fast, talked too much and went from project to project, taking on too much and getting behind. The Castle “brand” as my father called it, began to lose its luster.
Trouble surfaced later. A lot of a handyman’s work is out of sight. Wiring and plumbing are behind walls, sprinkler systems are underground. Homeowners operate on faith. If a switch turns on the light, the toilet flushes, or the lawn gets watered, they’re happy.
Later, when something goes wrong, customers lose faith and become unhappy. Sprinkler systems fail and customers investigate, digging up different gauges of pipe running in weird directions that later contractors cannot untangle. If you run out of the wrong color of electrical wire and attach whatever is handy, even if it is also the wrong gauge, you can cause electrical fires from overloaded circuits. A fire marshal called Lightning’s work “unintelligible” in his final report on one disastrous re-wiring job. Lightning’s insurance company settled the lawsuit, and canceled his policy.
My father was not incompetent or crooked. He was sick, but no one knew it, least of all me. After the fire, customers stopped calling. The Lightning Lee Construction van never moved from our driveway. It was banished to the garage when it became too embarrassing.
Lightning began self-medicating with alcohol. I can’t re-visit that pain, not yet. Too my shame, I was glad my mother finally divorced him when I was 16. We drove to California in the van, looking for a fresh start. I didn’t see my father after that, just a few letters. That was fine with me.
Even in California, I could not escape Lightning Lee. I developed problems of my own. After I dropped out college, I was finally diagnosed as severe bipolar disorder, type II. No details. I am a private person. My moods cycle downward between purgatory and hell. I am actually jealous of manic-depressives.
The meds help, but I’m not ready to return to school. I still have no energy and no dreams. I think a lot about Lightning, who had too much energy and too many dreams. I want to tell him that now, finally, I understand. I abandoned my father and now I need his forgiveness. I think about driving the van back to him and getting Lightning the help he needs. Maybe starting “Lightning Lee & Son Construction.”
Just think: father and son, his mania and my depression. Not the best business model, but between us, we'd find a balance. His enthusiasm would lift me up, and my pessimism would keep him grounded.
What a pair we’d make!
In Another Castle
HANDYMEN
I need my father’s forgiveness. My father is “Lightning” Lee Castle, the man who ruined the Castle name. I went one better. I turned my back on him.
Lightning (everyone called him that, even me) was the son of the legendary Harry Castle, owner of Castle Construction: “A Man’s Home is His Castle”. When my father graduated from high school, it became Castle & Son Construction. It was a stretch to say Castle & Son was a construction company. My grandfather was a handyman, and proud of it.
Harry could do it all – carpentry, electrical, plumbing, painting, appliance repair, sprinklers (back before they became irrigation systems). Anything. He charged a fair price for excellent work. Harry’s favorites were what he called “rescues.” Homeowners would start something, get in over their heads, and call Harry. He never made his clients feel incompetent and he showed them what to do next time. Next time, most of them called Harry to begin with.
Harry taught Lightning what to do – the right way, not the easy way. “Measure twice, cut once” was his religion and "the right tool for the right job" his mantra. Green wires were always for ground, black and red were hot, and white was neutral.
Lightning was fast – usually too fast for Harry: “What’s your hurry, son?” Lightning worked hard, no question there. Plus, he was good with customers. Lightning talked a lot, sometimes a little too quickly, but everyone liked him. He was also good at selling elaborate ideas. My father didn’t deliberately create grand projects, but Harry could always find simpler, less expensive ways to do them.
We lived in an older city, so there was always plenty of work. When Harry finally retired, business was booming. My father wanted out of his father’s shadow, so Castle Construction became Lightning Lee Construction. Lightning had big, unfocused dreams, but Harry couldn’t really let go and he started to meddle; they were constantly fighting. Finally, Harry moved to Florida and passed away several years later. That spared him from what came later.
My father was almost certainly manic. He did not have an "off" switch. Lightning’s big ideas became bigger, more than the homeowner needed or wanted. He worked too fast, talked too much and went from project to project, taking on too much and getting behind. The Castle “brand” as my father called it, began to lose its luster.
Trouble surfaced later. A lot of a handyman’s work is out of sight. Wiring and plumbing are behind walls, sprinkler systems are underground. Homeowners operate on faith. If a switch turns on the light, the toilet flushes, or the lawn gets watered, they’re happy.
Later, when something goes wrong, customers lose faith and become unhappy. Sprinkler systems fail and customers investigate, digging up different gauges of pipe running in weird directions that later contractors cannot untangle. If you run out of the wrong color of electrical wire and attach whatever is handy, even if it is also the wrong gauge, you can cause electrical fires from overloaded circuits. A fire marshal called Lightning’s work “unintelligible” in his final report on one disastrous re-wiring job. Lightning’s insurance company settled the lawsuit, and canceled his policy.
My father was not incompetent or crooked. He was sick, but no one knew it, least of all me. After the fire, customers stopped calling. The Lightning Lee Construction van never moved from our driveway. It was banished to the garage when it became too embarrassing.
Lightning began self-medicating with alcohol. I can’t re-visit that pain, not yet. Too my shame, I was glad my mother finally divorced him when I was 16. We drove to California in the van, looking for a fresh start. I didn’t see my father after that, just a few letters. That was fine with me.
Even in California, I could not escape Lightning Lee. I developed problems of my own. After I dropped out college, I was finally diagnosed as severe bipolar disorder, type II. No details. I am a private person. My moods cycle downward between purgatory and hell. I am actually jealous of manic-depressives.
The meds help, but I’m not ready to return to school. I still have no energy and no dreams. I think a lot about Lightning, who had too much energy and too many dreams. I want to tell him that now, finally, I understand. I abandoned my father and now I need his forgiveness. I think about driving the van back to him and getting Lightning the help he needs. Maybe starting “Lightning Lee & Son Construction.”
Just think: father and son, his mania and my depression. Not the best business model, but between us, we'd find a balance. His enthusiasm would lift me up, and my pessimism would keep him grounded.
What a pair we’d make!
