(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 7 - February 6, 2026)
In speaking with an experienced wordsmith, one where I was probing for advice on some
specific writing, this person said, “You need to go back further.” These words have
been lingering in my mind as I try to answer questions stemming from my time renovating
my houses on American Rehab Charleston or Restoring Charleston,
shows that people are still watching and then reaching out to me over.
Many
people seem eager to understand a bit more, in order to use something from my experiences
to help themselves or someone close to them with aspirations into unknown
territory, TV or otherwise. Or maybe it’s simple curiosity to help my being on
their television make more sense. And for those disappointed by what they saw
in the shows, I hope this helps to answer your questions even better as well. There’s
just too much to say in a few sentences or paragraphs in a way that’s fair to
me and all the people who worked on each series.
In 2000,
soon after I bought my first house, people began to ask, "Are you a house
flipper, like the people on television?" But I didn't watch much TV,
and these questions were lost on me.
From the
way it was explained, the house flippers sounded like an intoxicating mix of
real estate brokers and folks who seemed to have tapped into the legendary
spirits of pirates and cowboys, starting and racing a financier's clock, then selling
a house in months before zooming onto the next project. And as cool as that
seemed, it wasn't me. I was just one guy trying to be practical, methodically
salvaging in attempt to make the most of what I had as best as I could. I was hands-on,
doing much myself on houses that realtors, investors, and contractors saw as hopeless
causes.
Sure, I
was focused on budget and schedule as I beat the bushes for needed subs and
tradespeople, but it seemed like I was in a lower gear than the TV teams. And although
I was taken in by the romantic descriptions I heard, I concluded and then explained
regularly how I was not really a house flipper.
Then, in
2011, the visitors to my projects in Charleston started saying things like,
"You remind me of the girl on Rehab Addict." They said her
houses were in bad shape, she did a lot of the work herself, and she tried to
save materials too good to discard. By this time, I had access to the home
improvement networks. My wife and I tagged teamed the kids, so when I was in
the ring and naptime rolled around, I caught episodes of the show and host I'd begun
hearing so much about. Even though the rehab addict was a nice-looking single
mom, while I had a scruffy face, we were both blonde Midwesterners getting
after it in similar ways on our own project houses, so I understood the well-intended
comparisons.
Although I
felt as if I could relate, I didn't think I was like Nicole Curtis either. Her
projects were much grander than mine, with finer architectural details. And she
displayed an impressive, productive command of her team, while I sometimes
found myself doing conversational somersaults before landing on a solution with
my crews. Ms. Curtis got where she needed to go quickly, and I was envious.
On top of
that, she had multiple, impressive looking rehabs humming along at once, like
the performer spinning plates on a stake at the circus. But me? I was
resurrecting homes left for dead, one by one.
Although
we were similar, we weren't that alike, and I felt certain she'd agree. It was
like we were both playing the same sport, but she was leading troops in the big
leagues, while I was doing my hammering and picking up innings in the minors.
Still, the comparisons made me feel good, and through her, because of her and
her show bombarding HGTV and DIY in episode parades, people started to better
understand what I did and how I earned a living. I was grateful to this gal on
TV and that was noteworthy.
(Response to TV Show Viewers: Post 9 - Coming Soon)
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