Crossposted from my newsletter

Dear friends,

This is a brief note to share that I have a new essay out today, one of my favorite pieces I have worked on for a long time. It tells the story of how I re-roofed our house last summer. Here’s the opening:

Last summer I re-roofed my house. When I say I did this, I am not employing that conventional transmigration of agency we use when we say we did something because we paid for it. No: I did the work myself. I planned for it, I purchased the materials, and I laid the shingles, with a volunteer crew of friends and family. From the time our roof sprang a leak in early June to the last vestiges of cleanup in August, I was at work on the roof, often through some of the hottest weather southwest Missouri has to offer. If I stress this point, it’s not because I think re-roofing a house is such a notable achievement. After all, people do this work all the time, though less and less frequently for themselves or as part of an amateur, communal endeavor. Re-roofing my house was a notable achievement for me, though, stretching me well beyond my usual areas of competence and giving me much occasion for reflection.

I didn’t want to re-roof my house during the hottest days of summer, but once I was doing it, I found that I liked it. I liked the intellectual challenge of completing a large construction project; I liked the camaraderie of working with my friends; I liked providing for my family in a way that demanded something of me as a man. I am very proud of myself. But if this essay is a bluster, I hope it is at least a contemplative bluster.

You can read the whole thing at Front Porch Republic.