PBW: A Beam Back There

A few weeks ago, my dad mentioned that a beam had fallen in our basement. It was only an additional support beam, and apparently the house was in no imminent danger of collapse, but it was still reason for concern. He prepped a new beam and asked for my help putting it up. Though I was headed to a barbecue, he assured me it wouldn’t take long.

Once on the other side of our oil burner, I noticed some flaws in his plan. The concrete floor had sunk under the old beam over the years, and was uneven. My dad was sure “shimming it up” would solve every thing, and had me tilt the heavy beam until the bubbles in his level lined up perfectly. “That’s it there!” he exclaimed in jubilation, but I noted some problems. Only two corners of the base were actually making contact with the floor, and in tipping it I’d moved the top so it was no longer aligned with the wood in the ceiling where the old beam had clearly been. The floor had to be level.

He handed me a chisel and some sand paper, and I went to work, chipping away loose paint and hammering away the oddly gnarled concrete. “I think I’m down to soil...” I said, but he was sure I was wrong. When I pulled a rock from the dirt, he had to concede and decided to whip up a batch of cement.

I’ve never done cement work before. It’s not exactly like frosting a cake, which I haven’t done much of, but it is similar. Time isn’t on your side though and there’s not much room for error. A trowel can act as a smoothing agent or as a shovel, and the key seems to be not putting too much weight on it and pulling the pointy side away. I got the feel pretty quickly, and then used the splintered block of wood I was next handed to smooth out any small rough spots. That worked better than you’d expect. Of course, now that the floor was even, the beam had to rest on the floor nearby for another day, until the cement set.

The following weekend we worked two days in a row with our band, and it was only this past weekend that we were free to finish the project. I was achy and chilled from my cold, drifting in a state of partial consciousness after foolishly cutting the lawn in temperatures over 102°. “You’re holding the beam steady, right?” At times, I think the beam was holding me up. Still, when all was said and done, it was quite level. As my dad hammered blocks of wood between the beam and the ceiling, sawdust and other particles rained down on me. I cast my eyes to the floor quickly. It didn’t help my breathing, but I wasn’t blinded. Hours later, even after what I thought was a thorough shower, I still found particles behind one of my ears.

The beam is in place. The cement is holding. I was surprised that my dad didn’t actually drill in any bolts or make any permanent connections. It’s just sort of wedged in place, but he expects it to stand. I think I understand why the last beam eventually fell...

Here are some shots of this project for this week’s Photo Blog Wednesday: