Long johns? Check. Wool socks? Check. Signed permission form? Check. Lunch money? Check. CSA-approved steel-toed boots? Check.
Save for the boots, getting ready for my first day as a volunteer construction worker for Habitat for Humanity felt a lot like the first day of kindergarten. Excitement combined with fear of the unknown caused my stomach to churn as I braced myself for the blast of minus 12-degree air just outside the door.
During the 10-minute drive to 4200 Kingston Rd., I thought of the things I'd learned at the two-hour "super session" a week before at Habitat's offices on Bloor Street. In an alcove containing chairs as mismatched as the 30 or so people in attendance, our presenter fired up the projector and gave us a brief history lesson. (The organization was started in 1976; the Toronto affiliate in 1988.)
We were told that Habitat's two retail "restore" locations earn enough to cover all administration costs and salaries, meaning 100 per cent of donations go into the building of homes. We learned about how families qualify and the various ways the general public can help.
The rest of the session dealt with what to expect when volunteering on a building site, Habitat's most popular activity.
Crew leaders don't care if you've never held a hammer before — a willingness to learn and a promise to be mindful of the safety rules are all that's required. They take it slow, make it fun, and never ask anyone to do a job they're not comfortable with. (Our presenter added with a laugh that it's usually the volunteers who are scared of power tools initially who end up loving them the most.)
They don't require you to bring safety boots, a hardhat or work gloves, since they're provided on site along with all tools. A brief lecture on WHMIS, the workplace hazardous materials information system (a joint creation of the federal government and all the provinces and territories), closed out the evening.
When I arrived at the site around 8:30 a.m., I noted that foundation walls had been poured for the west row of townhouses and that a few areas were sheathed in plastic with piped-in heating to allow cinderblocks to be laid. Crunching through the snow in my new, stiff boots, I looked for the "volunteer trailer." Inside, I found the smiling face of Caroline, who told me that 16 brave souls were scheduled for the day, of which 11 eventually turned up. On inclement days, she said, it wasn't unusual to have no-shows.
I met Young Mike, who's getting married this summer and wants to become a firefighter. Later, I met Older Mike, an electronics company owner who worked in aviation back in the 1960s. As it turned out, Young Mike and I were assigned to be his crew for the day.
While visiting the equipment trailer for hardhats, Cidalia ("Everyone calls me 'Sid'ƒ|") introduced herself. An attractive young lady of Portuguese descent, she'd always thought about volunteering, so when this "build" appeared just down the street from her home, she took it as a sign and walked over.
So what did we do all day? Our task was to take pieces of two-ƒ|by six-inch board and affix them to the top of the concrete foundation walls, which already had bolts embedded in them.
We'd lay these "sill plates" on top, measure, then pound the top with a hammer to make indentations on the bottom to show us where to drill holes for the bolts to pop through. Cut, drill, roll out some thin foam "sill gasket" and bolt the wood into place. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
We hammered nails into the seams (it's cathartic to smash nails down into soft lumber, I found), applied a gooey black caulking called Acousti-Seal and then laid two-ƒ|by five-inch pieces of wood on top. Eventually, walls made out of "oriented strand board" will straddle these boards and lock into place.
After our first coffee break, Kevin showed up to join our crew. He came out because he didn't like the idea of sitting idle after a layoff from his printing job; he also reasoned that learning home construction might lead to better things.
It wasn't terribly hard work, and I was surprised at how quickly time passed and that the extreme cold wasn't a factor, thanks to my layers of clothing.
While I had to warm up in the trailer with the complimentary Starbucks coffee during a few breaks, during others I stayed outside to watch.
While standing where someone's garage will be one day, I witnessed the erection of the first interior wall by Karlo and yet another Mike, two professional construction guys with ever-present cigarettes dangling between their lips. Older Mike told me they're quite the dedicated pair: "When they get a rainout day, they're here."
I must confess that I didn't really know why I was doing what I was doing at times, but that's not the point, really.
With each return visit, I'll learn a little bit more about construction, add a few more hammered nails or wood-cuts to my personal tally, and, best of all, meet more of the incredible people who can think of nothing better to do on a frigid Saturday than to help build someone else's dream.
Dave LeBlanc hosts The Architourist on CFRB Wednesdays during Toronto at Noon and Sunday mornings. Send inquiries to dave.leblanc@globeandmail.com.
