Painting the Store Roof
When we bought my grandparent’s house and store in Broughtontown in 1972, we had to completely re-model the place. As my grandparents had gotten older, and as their health deteriorated, they were unable to keep the property up. After mom and daddy bought the place, we set about getting everything in order. There was a lot of work to do, but soon we had things looking good.
One day I determined to paint the store roof. It was a tin roof and had always been painted aluminum. It wasn’t in terrible shape, but it could stand a fresh coat of paint. The store didn’t have any gutters on it. I always enjoyed painting, and this job wouldn’t take me too long. I was about 16 years old and eager to knock this job out.
Everyone was gone the day I planned to paint, except for mom, who was tending the store. I placed my ladder on the side of the store, up toward the front. I planned on painting from the back to the front of the store and then climbing down where I had placed the ladder. The front of the store was about ten feet high, while the back side was probably 16-18 feet high. After I finished the first side, I would move the ladder over to the other side of the store and paint it.
The boundary line connecting our property with my Uncle Ray Baker’s property ran at an angle, and it was divided by a 4-strand barbed wire fence. At the front of the store, the fence was probably 20-25 feet from the store, while along the back edge of the store, the fence was much closer, probably about 6 feet or so.
I got my things together and climbed up onto the roof. I walked to the back, and, starting at the top and back edge of the roof, began to paint. It was summertime and I knew the day would quickly get hotter, but I knew I could be finished before it got too hot. I painted down the first sheet of the tin, from the top to the bottom. The paint went on easily as the roof was already getting pretty warm. I finished the first round and went back to the top to begin the second.
This time, however, I decided to go ahead and paint the crown of two sheets of tin, rather than just the one as I had done on the first go round. I had quite a bit of experience and probably should have known better, but I really didn’t think much of it. As I painted my way down the second row of tin, the paint I had put on the crown of the third row, began to run down the tin and get under my feet.
In just a moment, the roof had begun to become very slippery from the aluminum paint. Soon I had paint all over the soles of my shoes, and I began to slip and slide because of it. I tried my very best to walk over to the unpainted part of the roof, but I couldn’t make it. I hollered for mom, but she couldn’t hear me from inside the store. Of course, we had several different refrigerators and freezers running, as well as the air conditioner. It was impossible for her to hear my yells. I hoped someone would stop by the store, but that never happened either.
I knew I was in trouble. I didn’t have any footing at all. I sat down on the roof, and the paint continued to race down the roof and under me. Soon, my rear end was covered in aluminum paint. I slipped further down toward the edge of the roof. I decided to take off my shoes, which were now covered in the aluminum paint. Immediately, my socks were covered in the aluminum paint. I took them off, hoping I might get some traction from my bare feet, but to no avail. I was inching closer and closer to the edge of the roof. I continued to holler for mom and held out hope for someone to pull into the parking lot.
I eventually had to toss the partially full 5 gallon bucket of aluminum paint off the roof, along with my previously tossed paint brush, aluminum shoes, and aluminum socks. I continued my slide, getting closer and closer to the roof edge. I kept hollering but got no response. I kept looking but no one came. Reality was beginning to set in quickly. I was not going to be able to stay on that roof.
As I stated earlier, the distance down to the ground was only about 16-18 feet. That, in itself, didn’t bother me very much. I was young and in good shape, and I had jumped that distance many times before. The bad part was the barbed wire fence that loomed so closely to the edge of the store. The short distance between the store and the fence would not allow me to jump out from the store and roll when I hit the ground. Jumping out and rolling would have taken most of the stress from the jump, whereas a straight down and solid jump was going to be problematic. I knew all I could do was jump straight down and just land there with a thud. I knew the chances of breaking my leg was a real possibility.
I sat on the edge of the store roof for some time. I kept hollering for mom but never got an answer. I kept looking, hoping, and dreaming we would have a customer pull into the lot, but it wasn’t going to happen. I just sat there on my aluminum covered butt, with aluminum paint covering my hands, feet, and just about every part of my body, and all the while staring down at this barbed wire fence that was much too close to our store.
I slipped closer and closer to the edge. I was hanging on to the nails in the tin by my fingernails. I was covered in paint, and I knew as soon as I jumped, I was going to have a broken leg, or two. I was in a bad spot. I soon resigned myself to the fact I could not hold on any longer. I was going to have to let go. I readied myself and kept telling myself to “just go limp on impact with the ground.” The time was now, and I had to go.
I jumped straight down, as I had to, and upon contact with the ground, I just let my body go limp, falling over to the ground as soon as I hit it. I landed with a thud, but nothing broke. I got up, thankful to the good Lord for my lack of broken bones. Almost as soon as I stood up, now covered with fresh mowed grass that stuck to the aluminum paint, mom appeared at the front of the store. She said, “I just thought I’d come out here and check on you and see if you needed anything.” Simultaneously, two or three vehicles pulled into the store lot. Everyone was excited to see this young fella, covered with aluminum paint from head to toe, and hear what had happened.
I cleaned myself up with a lot of kerosene, drank a pop, climbed back upon the roof, and finished painting the roof. This time, however, I only painted the ridge cap of one single layer of tin, rather than two.
