Years ago my father and his lover use to get really drunk and then make plaster of Paris castings of tchotchkes for the boyfriend’s store. That’s a bit of an exaggeration but it’s fairly accurate to say that they would have a few good laughs pouring and selling plaster angels to the blue rinse crowd. Fast forward to the here and now, Dad has that boyfriend condemned to the past and physically incapable of drinking. The times oh they change. When I get the call from Dad I didn’t know it was going to unearth some of those memories:

“We have to clear my balcony.”

“Aren’t the renovations scheduled for summer 2010?”

“I want to get it done today.”

“The hottest day of the year?”

“Get over here.”

I know exactly what has he has in store for us. His 40ft condo balcony is covered from one end to the other in lattice work that has been screwed directly into the cement and various garden items. All of this has to come out as well as a 150lbs worth of plaster of Paris faux fireplace hearth, precariously glued to one wall.

SharkBoy and I grab our drills and make short work of the lattice, with few slivers and no poked out eyes. The plaster hearth comes apart in two pieces with one touch, like a suit jacket from Le Chateau and is disposed of deftly. It came time to shift the 4.5 ft tall David statue from his long time perch so we could clean up around him. Dad mused aloud about throwing him out.

“You can’t! You’ve had him for so long!” I complained. As these words left my mouth I noticed the faded beads and baubles from past Pride day parades around his neck. I recall his first arrival to Dad’s old apartment with a revulsion so strong I think my hand actually went to my mouth when I saw him. There was a joke there but I couldn’t see it at the time. In time, he grew on me. Like a long suffering lap dog, we would dressed him up for Xmas and hide Easter eggs around his person. Okay the last one was a lie, but you get the picture. He was with us a long time.

As we’re putting things back, SharkBoy lifts the David statue to reposition him back on his pedestal. The statue literally disintegrated in his hands. David had been outside for a few years, untreated and has withstood some pretty harsh winters. I’m surprised he’s made it this long.

We stop. And laugh. Nervously at first, but then more at SharkBoy’s utter embarrassment and not the fact that a long time “family” member has just suffered a major trauma. It’s a sad funny moment that was wordlessly communicated between us, but for each, entirely different reasons.

Fear not. We took the upper half of poor David and stuffed him into the ground in the condo’s communal garden. Weirdly enough his small “soft” (yet plaster hard) peener was the only thing that was keeping him upright. Still in our hearts until someone offended tosses him out.