Just mentally connected some dots that help explain why the
current administration troubles me so. It’s all about renovating old houses.
Say what?
Let me explain. Early in our marriage, my wife Brenda and I,
in what now seems like fit of collective insanity, decided to try our hands at
renovating a Victorian cottage in the legendary Quapaw Quarter district of
Little Rock. It sat immediately north of the iconic “Egyptian Revival”
(Fordyce) house.
Built in 1898, and “remodeled” shamelessly, it needed a lot
of work. Naturally, we let our friends at the time know that assistance would
be appreciated with smiles, and rewarded with mass quantities of alcohol.
Oh, and when I say “a lot of work,” I mean a prodigious
amount of work. For example, the previous owners had converted the dining room
into a sound-proof film studio.
Don’t ask.
Just take my word that it need gutting and rebuilding. Enter
the friends. With crowbars a’flashing and sledgehammers a’swinging, they came
and destroyed. They were quite good at it, the process of destruction. I think
one reason was that it took no talent, knowledge, experience, or forethought at
all. It was a process devoid of any nuance, requiring no planning or expertise,
just anger and energy born of the need to destroy.
Did I mention that our friends, people from all works of
life, were good at it? Oh yes, they were. Soon there were piles of plaster,
dirt, splintered wood, and other detritus covering the floors. Tired and dirty,
we loved the mess and hated anything associated with the previous owners. Any
remnants of their habitation had to go. We stood among the ruins and smiled,
proud with our friends.
Then they left.
We were alone. Our friends had reveled in the destruction
and despising of the previous owners, but our friends had left when the cleanup started. Most never
returned. Those few who did usually came only to offer comments along the lines
of “Ya’ll sure are taking a long time, aren't you?” Some bragged about how they could have
done it better by simply demolishing the old house and building a modern one on
the site. We chose, though, to stick with the charm, strength, and history that the old
girl represented.
The experience taught us that hate and destruction do not equate
to either building or progress. Those require positive, and sometimes painful,
work. So, we worked. Many nights we would patch ceilings until near midnight
and report at our jobs the next morning with plaster dust on our clothing. But
we stuck with it.
Oh, we had help, because we had new friends. These were
neighbors who had muddled through the same experience, gaining expertise, and
learning about the pitfalls and mistakes that are concomitantly associated with
positive action and progress. They knew how to build homes, neighborhoods, and
cities: one act at a time. We learned much from them. Most important of all, we
learned how much can be accomplished through mutual cooperation and the
avoidance of personal rancor.
It took us ten years to rebuild a livable home from the piles
of junk. I often think about that and realize how it took eight years to
rebuild our nation from the debacles of the first presidential administration of
the 21st Century.
On this eve of our national celebration of our country’s
independence, it is with profound sadness that I wonder how long it will take
to clean up the effects of the current spasm of hate and destruction. I’m
thinking we’ll do it, though. After all, we did gain independence despite far
greater odds.
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| The old girl, second from the right, still stands today. Alas, the median is gone. |
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