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Our Plywood Cabin

Photo: Gary Jackson

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By Staff Middle Land

June 17, 2024
5:29 pm
Los Angeles, CA

By Gary Jackson The father asked his son “Mr. Lazy, would you say grace before our meal”. The son replied “No, I don’t want to”. So the truck driver delivering lumber to build our cabin offered the blessing. Dad had ordered a truckload of lumber and other supplies. In the late afternoon this truck backed down the steep dirt road to our future lake cabin. After unloading the truck, Dad had asked the driver if he would like to stay for dinner although it was very basic since there was no kitchen yet. Well, I found out later that the truck driver’s name was Lacy, L A C Y, not Lazy and he was the pastor of a small church in a rural Idaho town. This was his weekday

By Gary Jackson

The father asked his son “Mr. Lazy, would you say grace before our meal”. The son replied “No, I don’t want to”. So the truck driver delivering lumber to build our cabin offered the blessing. Dad had ordered a truckload of lumber and other supplies. In the late afternoon this truck backed down the steep dirt road to our future lake cabin. After unloading the truck, Dad had asked the driver if he would like to stay for dinner although it was very basic since there was no kitchen yet. Well, I found out later that the truck driver’s name was Lacy, L A C Y, not Lazy and he was the pastor of a small church in a rural Idaho town. This was his weekday job to augment his income. Dad wasn’t trying to insult me, he was addressing the pastor, Mr. Lacy! As the saying goes, Live and Learn.

After Dad had purchased land for the cabin in 1959, we began construction the following year. My dad designed the cabin himself. With some help from the family, mostly me, a freshman in high school we started construction in 1960.

I helped my dad during that summer and subsequent ones also. Most of the work was in the summer but it was not continuous. He was a college professor and had spare time in the summers and this was his “recreation”, stemming from his roots in rural Montana.

When we started construction we had to live in a tent. When the whole family was there, it meant 6 of us (mom, dad, me, and 3 younger sisters) living in about 10ft x 10 ft space. We cooked on a Coleman underneath the front flap, where mom prepared meals, or Dad did if it were only him and me.

The first step was to lay the foundation. But before that we had to dig into the sloping hill to allow for downstairs bedrooms. I was in charge of digging. On some weekends I even had a friend helping me. The most exciting part of this experience was digging out a huge boulder, probably 3 ft in diameter. My friend and I then rolled it down the hill crashing through shrubs to the beach. Then we rolled it into deep water so that our boat, and future dock, would not interfere. This was the energy of youth.
Early on we realized that life would be a lot easier if we had water at the tent and cabin site. The lake was about 80 ft below on a steep slope. So dad constructed a small (4’ x 6’) pumphouse and ran cable to hook up electricity to the power line above our property. Both the pumphouse and the cabin still stand to this day, 2023. We then dug a trench to install a water line, and also a power line down to the pumphouse and then ran a hose into the lake and Viola, we had water!

We fairly quickly constructed the floor of the main cabin, above the 2 future bedrooms that were dug into the slope. This gave us a dirt-free place to cook, and work. I moved from the crowded tent to sleep under the stars in this flat space. Although I generally enjoyed working with him, and certainly our location, our father-son relationships were not always smooth. Dad liked to start work early, while I wanted a little more sleep. Dad needed a 2nd person to help him with the big lumber pieces to support the roof. To get my attention to give him a hand, one morning he ran the electric circular saw (a Skil saw) right by my head, while cutting some wood. This did not go over well, to say the least. I don’t recall him doing it more than once. I think we had a truce where I arose a little earlier, but not as early as he would have liked.

Once the roof was in place, living became much easier. Around this time, we also installed a toilet and bathroom sink and kitchen sinks. I don’t remember what we did before that for waste disposal. I do remember bedpans. I guess we probably imposed on the neighbors also.
At this point, the essentials of the cabin were nearly complete. This is when we started applying the plywood sides to make the enclosure complete and waterproof.

At the end of the second summer, as we were driving home one weekend, my dad said that as payment for all my work on the cabin he would buy me a motorcycle! This really excited me. But my dad’s version of a motorcycle was a Moped (a bike with a tiny motor and pedals) that he ordered from Montgomery Ward. This was an insult to a teenager in high school. In many parts of the world where I’ve since traveled, owning a Moped is viewed with pride. In my early trips to China in the 1990s, mopeds and scooters were an upgrade to be treasured, though later it was cars as the economy improved.

The trips to build the cabin were not all work. There are 2 beautiful rivers with small attached lakes that empty into Lake Couer d’Alene where our cabin is located and they are accessible by our boat. Also I learned to water ski. But this required someone driving the boat and Dad wasn’t always willing. I remember one time when we were alone he didn’t take me skiing until dusk. I fell down in the middle of the lake and he didn’t notice. I would guess that he was thinking about the work to be addressed the following day. When he got back to the dock (probably 1-2 miles away) he finally noticed I wasn’t there. By this time it was dark. All I had to stay afloat in those days was a ski belt, basically a thick belt of foam. I wasn’t panicked as I knew I could swim to shore, but I would probably have to wait until morning to get picked up. Dad backtracked and every so often he would kill the motor and shout and I would answer and each time he got closer and closer until I was finally picked up. All I can say is Those were the days. Nowadays he’d probably be arrested for child endangerment.

By the third summer the cabin was well established, though Dad worked on upgrades for years afterwards as it was his pride and joy. As us kids became adults and had kids of our own we would frequently gather at this cabin in the summer for family reunions. As of 2023 it is still in the family and we have family gatherings almost every year

You might ask why we call this The plywood cabin. Well there is a hangout across the lake from our cabin retreat in Idaho called One Shot Charlies. The story goes that 100 years ago, give or take, Charlie visited this bar every night and ordered one shot of whiskey. Whether it’s true or not, this ‘watering hole’ became known as ‘One shot Charlies’. In the last 60 or so years it’s the kind of place where everyone can mix, from locals and tourists, to the young and old. Someone even bought our dog his own pizza one time. In the 1980s there was a talented musician who periodically performed and usually most of the patrons, young and old, were up and dancing. My very attractive niece was dancing with a local man who was obviously trying to put the moves on her. In the midst of conversation between dances he asked her ‘do you come from one of those million dollar cabins across the lake?’ No, she responded, ‘we live in a plywood cabin’. Hence our plywood cabin got its name.

Even with those teenage disputes with my dad, the cabin construction was a bonding experience and we developed a strong and loving relationship. A couple of months before his passing in 2004 I flew up to Idaho to help him secure the cabin for the winter. At 89, he was in the ice-cold water working on the boat ramp with sleet raining down.

I treasure our time together and I’m thankful for helping in the cabin construction. I learned so many things, both practical and emotional. And it kept me out of a lot of potential trouble. In my work in prison ministry over the last 20 years I have seen the difficulties young men face when they don’t have a strong male role model when growing up. Thank you, Dad

Program for Memoir writing group May 24, 2023