I spent my childhood observing my dad at work, but I didn?t understand everything that went into it until we began a project together In the late 1990s, a stop-motion British cartoon called Bob the Builder debuted on the BBC. It had a catchy theme song with the titular character?s name cheerily sung, followed by short, staccato statements.
?Bob the Builder, can we fix it" Bob the Builder, yes, we can!?
Bob the Builder was round-faced and smiling, with short legs and a teardrop nose. His toolbelt was as wide as his waist, his hardhat as big as his head. What else would he wear but overalls, a checked shirt, and thick-soled boots" A carpenter?s uniform, or so kids were led to believe.
He had friends like Scoop (a googly-eyed backhoe), Muck (a fire engine-red dump truck), and Dizzy (a diminutive concrete spinner). They all traveled around a primary-color, basic-shapes landscape, building and dancing and playing. The show is lighthearted and safe, and the premise is appealing: Work with your hands, find friends, make things that serve basic human needs. But construction as a living is hard?not exactly as depicted by the cartoon contractor. It?s messy, unpredictable, and, with the ever-present possibility of nails in fingers or falls from steep grades, sometimes pretty dangerous. I know because my dad is a real Bob, and a real builder.
Bob has been building and remodeling homes for 40 years, often six and seven days a week, all while teaching college and hig...