Bending Nails and Shooting Them

Admittedly, my motivations for participating in the newly formed Door County Habitat for Humanity Women’s Build project are self-serving. I want to learn how to hammer a nail without blackening my thumb, how to cut holes into drywall that I don’t have to fill in with putty afterwards. Helping a family in the community find affordable, well-built housing was second on the list.

Last fall, the Habitat for Humanity Women’s Build project jumped off the newsprint and caught my eye. Intrigued by the idea of expanding my skills with a hammer and learning how to use a nail gun, I went to an informational meeting at Bay View Lutheran Church and discovered a group of women who were as excited as I about power tools and their possibilities.

That informational meeting segued into my participation on the Women’s Build organizing committee. As a group we realized our excitement was not going to translate into a beautifully built three-bedroom home for a family:  we needed a little training. OK, a lot of training, especially in safety. Such words of wisdom as “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger of the nail gun when you look up to talk to someone,” or “Safety glasses keep the splinters out of your eyes,” are especially useful.

The Women’s Build committee worked with the guru of Door County Habitat for Humanity, Rick Nelson, and his witty assistant Katy Moore, whose enthusiasm for the project is fantastic to watch. With their guidance, the committee organized training sessions and roped in, I mean persuaded, two repeat Habitat volunteers, Paul Stangel and Dave Link, both former teachers, and Portside Builders’ Jeff Lau.

For five weeks these three dedicated men patiently shared their in-depth knowledge of basic construction techniques and commonly used tools, and answered more “Whys” than they likely have in decades. We learned the importance of keeping chords out of the path of a Skil saw. That a nail gun doesn’t discern between a foot and a board. Construction jargon is also regionally influenced, we were instructed; so, even though our Wisconsinite teachers told us that King, Queen and Jack studs mean one thing in the north, those terms might not mean anything in Alabama.

Basic construction training classes held in a bay of the Door County Economic Development Center were comprised of groups of 20 – 30 women between the ages of 25 to 75 and were an interesting study in female interaction. A few trainees were Habitat regulars and already knew the ropes. Others had a basic skill set and were eager to learn more. The third set were those women who had never pounded a nail in their life and either squealed with delight after firing a round with the nail gun, or shrieked in fear and walked away wide-eyed, vowing to never again pick up a power tool.

During each session, Stangel, Link or Lau would give a brief lecture and then turn us loose in small groups with tools and scrap wood. Here’s the sociology lesson:  some women would divide the tasks up equally and each person would take her turn; some of the more experienced would show the others again in her version of the technique and then each would give it a go. And then there were the hoarders, of both tools and tasks to be completed. Groups with these female pirates generally fell silent while others chatted and joked about smashing fingers or sawing through table saws. I believe our male instructors enjoyed watching the interactions, as much as they did the “Oops” and “I bent it.” Especially fascinating was watching the instructors “fix” our mistakes. We learned from Lau that if a wall wasn’t cut perfectly straight, a little twist here and knee nudge there and a few more nails could make it so.

The women who have been through this training, as well as any others who don’t mind a little perspiration, will put these newfound skills into practice May 2, at the Door County Habitat for Humanity’s first, and hopefully annual, Women’s Build day. If you see us out there in our pink shirts and hats, stop by, and you might just learn something about building a house, from a girl.