Early Friday morning I drove to the farm store in Marshall and presented my calculations to Gene Haugland at the paint counter. Gene knew exactly which barn I was talking about and recommended forty gallons of authentic barn red paint to ensure the rough boards were thoroughly covered. I spent over seventeen hundred dollars from our household bank account on eight five gallon pails of red paint, two gallons of white trim paint, rollers, brushes, and drop cloths. Knowing I could not do this alone, I contacted Nate Ellison, the youth pastor at our local church, to ask if he could bring some kids on Saturday. Nate eagerly agreed and organized twenty two teenagers while establishing strict safety rules to ensure no young kids would ever climb the tall ladders. I then reached out to our longtime neighbor Merle Rasmussen, who immediately offered to rent a forty five foot towable lift from a rental place in Marshall. Merle insisted on running the lift himself alongside Mike Olson so we could safely reach the high gambrel ends that stretch thirty six feet into the air.
I spent Friday afternoon back in Sioux Falls watching Arlo work incredibly hard in the therapy gym, proudly taking steps between parallel bars and managing to call me by his special nickname for me. I kept the secret of the barn safe, choosing to tell him about the soybeans and the farm cats instead of burdening him with our son’s premature real estate plans. Early Saturday morning my yard was filled with cars, minivans, four fathers with extension ladders, and twenty two teenagers ready to work under the beautiful clear September sky. Following a short prayer and a safety talk from Nate, the massive restoration effort began with kids rolling paint along the bottom eight feet while the fathers carefully supervised the extension ladders. Merle and Mike expertly maneuvered the lift high above the roofline, cutting in the edges with wide brushes as the older kids vigorously worked the deep red paint into the rough wood grain. By mid morning the trendy gray was rapidly disappearing board by board, replaced by the rich traditional red that belonged to our family, lovingly applied by neighbors and children who simply wanted to bring Arlo’s barn back to life.