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Mr. Krivda was my middle school shop teacher and he would not be happy with me right now.

You see, I like a good old fashion, wooden screen door. It’s the kind my grandfather had at his place in El Dorado, Arkansas. I still remember the sound of the spring stretching as we kids ran through it and the loud slam as it pulled to, followed by a few smaller taps as the door settled back into place awaiting the grandkids next onslaught.

So when the lost and wandering neighbor dog, Red, destroyed my old wooden screen door that I’d built, I built another one.

Mr. Krivda would not approve. He would not be impressed with the facing I’d add ed so the door fits inside the door jamb and then forms a second seal outside of the house. He would not be impressed by the cat door I installed in the bottom of the screen. He would not see any of the work I’d done, because he wouldn’t be able to get past the fact that I didn’t sand every aspect of the door.

I’m not sure if he had been involved in a splinter related lawsuit early in his career, but the man was obsessed with sanding. If you wanted to make something in his class. Let’s say something easy like a clock. We middle schoolers were big on sticking clocks into any crappy thing we made.

Now if you were going to make a one foot square clock for Krivda, you needed to start with a piece of wood that was maybe twenty-four inches by twenty-four inches square and start sanding the hell out of it.

Then check it with Krivda. He wouldn’t approve, so you’d sand any hell that might be left in there. Check it with Krivda. He wouldn’t approve and then you’d sand the living daylights out of it. Finally your two foot piece of wood would be sanded enough for Krivda to okay drilling a hole in it and sticking a clock in the middle.

It was rewarding work.

And I can safely say that Mr. Krivda is looking down from above on my door and muttering to himself about my crappy sanding job.

Nope. Mr. Krivda would not approve.

In need of a coat of paint.

In need of a coat of paint.

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