Refinishing Your Inner End Table

When Michelangelo brushed his last stroke on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, I imagine he must have stood back to take in his work as a whole:  one part admiration, three parts relief at the work’s being complete.  As I hammered the last finishing nail in the window trim of my bathroom, I stood back to take in the work as a whole:  one part relief at the work’s being complete, three parts amazement that the nail went in straight.

After several jump starts, mishaps and do-overs, it is finished.  The total bathroom renovation that began with a burned out light bulb in 1998 is finally done.  From gutted room to new towels, my leviathan of a lavatory has been conquered. 

When I had put the last of the tools back down in the basement, I stood at the bathroom door, staring, noticing a couple minor imperfections that few others would perceive.  I like to believe those little imperfections, like the bumps and wrinkles of life, are what make a place, a life, our own.  Perfection, after all, is in the eye of the cynic.

Still standing in the doorway, I tried to picture what the room had looked like before I started.  I wondered what it had looked like before that and then even before that.  Our house is around a hundred years old, so I figure it must have gone through many renovations.  All those minor imperfections painted, papered and paneled over to lay a claim, to mark a territory, to discover a land anew over and over again. 

And then a thought occurred to me:  Aren’t we all constantly renovating our inner rooms?

It’s like Deepak Chopra meets Bob Villa.  A person needs to tear down a facade put up years ago, perhaps in another lifetime, before rebuilding.  A healthy individual needs to know the dimensions of his own door jam in order to put up new trim.  The sub floor must be flat, smooth and clean before laying the new, improved vinyl flooring.  Seams between sheets of dry wall must be tapped and spackled well so the wall can be one flowing wall in itself and of itself.  Paint looks best over a coat of fine primer, that is, our outside is only as beautiful as what lies beneath because if you can’t get at what’s really underneath, at least keep it from bleeding though.

Furniture refinishing is much the same thing.  When I got my first apartment, I raided my parents’ attic.  Along with an old set of plates I don’t ever remember using; forks, knives, and spoons; a few pots and magazine rack, I was able to confiscate two matching end tables.  They had been the end tables of my youth, permanent fixtures in our living room until my brothers and I were out of the jump-on-the-furniture-with-your-dirty-shoes phase when my parents bought new furniture that wasn’t akin to burlap.

When I set up my living room that also played the role of dining room, office, guest room, and hamper, the end tables gave me a familiar, homey comfort feeling.  Seconds later I made the decision to refinish them.  It wasn’t that they were in bad shape; it wasn’t that I didn’t particularly like the style.  It was that I was not living at home anymore, I was on my own and I needed to strip off the fine, natural wood finish of my parents and paint them with the good black semi-gloss of my independence.

It’s not just the big jobs that help us renovate our inner rooms.  The smallest jobs around the house are just as important.  Touching up paint on a baseboard, fixing a leaking faucet, even simply Spring cleaning can be as insightful and meaningful toward a more fulfilling sense of self as a Wayne Dyer marathon during PBS fundraising.

For those who believe that it’s best to leave such major improvement projects to the professionals, I’d reply that people must be their own contractors, sub-contracting only surrenders one’s power to another – although having a good plumber really helps.

With the desire, patience, and the proper tools, any inner room can be improved upon.  Just don’t forget to wear your safety glasses.

Revision Does Not Imply Error!

Getting students excited about revision is like grabbing another handful of cheese doodles right after you washed the orange off your hands.  But in revision lies much brilliance. 

A common reply to any request of students to revise their writing is “What’s wrong with it?”  This is a very good question because often there is very little if anything “wrong” with the piece of writing.

 

We as writers must get away from the idea that revision necessarily implies error.  Here is an analogy that I have found has helped middle school students.

In the early 1970s, Atari released a revolutionary interactive video game called PONG.   It was a very simple ping-pong or tennis game that had two small vertical lines on either side of the video screen serving as rackets or paddles. These lines could only be moved up and down turning a knob control.  The object of the game was to align your “paddle” with a little white square “ball” that drifted across the screen, “hitting” it back to your opponent.  If someone missed the “ball,” the opponent scored a point.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with PONG.  However, revisions to the technology were made, and as the technology improved, so did the quality and quantity of video games. 

In 1978, Atari came out with a video football game that, for the first time, allowed a video image to scroll up and down beyond the borders of a television screen.  The game used Xs and Os as game pieces manipulated by joysticks to simulate very simple football plays.  It was fun, and, again, there was nothing wrong with the game.

The early 1980s brought on more revision to video game technology.  Japanese game designer Moru Iwatani created Pac-Man, the most popular video game of all time.

Atari released a home version of Pac-Man.  The home version was very boxy as the technology did not allow for curves.  The sound was tinny and the game board was a basic maze.  It was fun at the time.

By the late 1980s, Atari was surpassed by Nintendo whose flagship game, Super Mario Bros. sold more copies than any other home video game in history. 

From the late 1990s into the 21^st century, Sony PlayStation, PlayStation 2,  PlayStation 3, XBox, etc. have topped the home video game market with brand new games as well as revisions of classic games like Pac-Man.

No sooner is one game finished being created when its revisions begin.  Graphics, sounds, backgrounds are all improved upon making the games more exciting, more vivid, more interesting.  Imagine if no one ever felt like revision the early video games.

 

Below is an activity that exemplifies the video game revision analogy as well as produce student writing. 

Go on the Internet and find a picture of the old Atari Pac-Man game and one of the new Sony version of Pac-Man World game.  Hand out the pictures of the two versions of Pac-Man.  Have the students make a list of all the things that are the same about them.  Then have them make a list of all the things that are different about them.  When they are done their lists, ask them to decide which version they’d prefer to play.  With a partner, have them talk about which version they chose and prepare to tell the class about at least three specific reasons why they chose the version they did.  Remind the students to use their lists to help them explain the reasons for their choice.  Finally, have the students write an essay that tells what version they chose, the reasons why they chose it, why those reasons are important to them and convince the reader that their choice is the best one.  (For a more detailed written response, have the students play the two versions of the game and then write an essay that convinces the reader which version is best using specific details from the game as support.)

Remember, there was nothing wrong with the previous games, we, the game-playing public, simply want better games.  We have to revise because, as writers, there is often not much wrong with our early drafts; we, the reading public, simply want better writing.