my father

To understand the houses that he renovated at 302, 208, and 314 East Fourth Street, you have to understand my father. My father had his own Yankee workshop way of doing things and he seemed (to me) to go a little overboard on everything. He wouldn't be satisfied until the houses were built to his standards. which means better than they were originally constructed.
why would somebody notch the exterior wall studs and put in diagonal braces that weren't there originally and weren't required by code? 'cause my father felt that it would make the house more structurally sound. This is the the essential tao of Bob King. Its something of a cross between pride on one side and OCD on the other side. If he sees something that he doesnt like, he goes in and keeps going at it until he's satisfied that he's done it right and that he will never have to think about it again. My father raised my sister and I by himself from the time we were 2 and 3 years old, he was a lifelong diabetic and had learning disabilities and also had a string of really bad luck over the years. Nothing would stop him and he never showed fear of any kind. When he broke his leg, all he cared about was getting up on his feet again. He told the doctors that he wanted the leg to be better than it was and insisted that titanium rods be installed. he was out of the hospital in no time. When he broke his hip he insisted that they replace the whole shebang (ball, socket, everything) and he wanted to be conscious to make sure they did a good job.
I think if there is a song for my dad it would be "we are the champions" by Queen.
Everything was a challenge and he refused to lose. He really was a champion in the most essential sense of the word. In case you haven't figured it out by now, we lost him last year in July of 2006. He never got to see the last house (314 east fourth) be finished.