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With the deadline looming a mere two and ten days off, Julie and I made a trip north, to Phelps. Combining a visit home to see Mom and Dad with getting our tax forms prepared for us, I found Dad hard at work on their retirement home.

Mom and Dad are living in a garage right now while he is building the house. After years on the market, they finally found a buyer for the Great Escape, which is the resort that they bought, and operated along with another couple, since the summer of 1979. While waiting for the resort to sell they bought some land we now refer to as "the hill," and build a garage at the top. It's a *big* garage complete with kitchenette, bathroom with shower, wood and gas heat, and sheets of plastic make up the walls of two bedrooms. It's really quite comfortable but with Dad's snoring, real walls would be nice.

Building real walls is exactly what Dad was doing when we arrived and after dropping off our tax records I had a couple of beers with Dad as he framed a wall -- with a gun instead of a hammer. Dad's always loved building things and growing up, I was his assistant on many projects. Now, though, I just try to stay out of the way -- these days, I'm far handier with a keyboard than I am with a nail-gun (or a hammer for that matter). I was of more use to Mom, helping her to build spreadsheets to keep track of the two-by-fours.

I remember my uncle threatening to hit my thumb with a hammer if I didn't stop sucking it (my thumb). Uncle Kenny was helping Dad build a garage when I was old enough to get in the way but too young to help. After that, he added a bedroom and family room to the house. Before Dad finished the wiring, our neighbor and I punched out all of the disks from all of the metal electrical boxes because we wanted the slugs, which were as good as quarters in the pop machines at that time. Then there was the fence around the backyard, the deck by the pool, the basement recreation room, etc., etc... When we were preparing to move to Phelps, I looked at all of what Dad had build and thought about all of the time I spent helping him, and felt regret at leaving it all behind. In Phelps, Dad just kept on building. With a tavern and adjoining duplex, six cottages, and various other buildings, he was never at a loss for a project. Every time I go home it seems that something is being built or rebuilt.

When you don't have a son or a brother to help out, it's good to have friends and neighbors. Some friends of my parents that live a few miles up the road, are very good neighbors indeed. Bill has been one of many who have been helping Dad with this latest project. Bill's wife, Jill, took up tax preparation and when she finished preparing our forms they came by the garage to drop them off. Not only did she get us a modest refund but she wouldn't take any payment for her work. My brother, Kevin, helped her with a computer problem last year, she said, and will call me if she has another such problem in the future. It all comes around in time. Perhaps I can build her a web page someday.

I'm a little late posting this issue but we did lose an hour this weekend -- if you didn't already do so, turn your clocks ahead an hour. And remember, the deadline for filing your returns is April 15. Thanks to Jill I got 'em in the mail early this year.