Another Day in the Country
Doing a little upkeep
Contributing writer
For as long as I can remember there’s been a little country church just outside of Ramona. Started by a group of Kansas immigrants who believed that farming the land, being honest citizens, and educating their children in their religious traditions were pretty much the same. A couple of years ago that landmark was disbanded and the lovely little building stood empty.
That is, until my friend heard about it. He bought it and proceeded to bring it back to life. On Easter Sunday, he opened the doors of that little church and invited people back inside. Cleaning up Rosebank was a little like the Easter story with a death and resurrection. In its neglected interim, the once lovely church had filled with mold, making it unsafe for anyone to go inside. With a lot of determination, elbow grease, disinfectant, good clean air and sunshine, the place was resurrected. My sister made cinnamon rolls. Jay made coffee and the sign said, “Welcome.” We don’t know the destiny of the building or if there ever will be a congregation; but it was saved! Saved for the glory of possibilities.
For the past three weeks, I’ve been in California doing some reconstruction and resurrection of my own. I’ve been repairing the garage on my house. It wasn’t filled with mold; but debris had weakened the gutters which allowed water to run over on the siding, which softened the wood, which caused deterioration and now it all had to be replaced. There were many reasons for the decay — it was built forty years ago for one, I went through a divorce and had to do upkeep on my own, I didn’t have money for repairs, there were other priorities. Luckily, there was no mold. I’d caught it in time. The underpinnings were solid. That little structure was saved for the glory of possibilities. Before I headed back to Kansas, phase one was complete with walls sturdy, windows and doors replaced, everything primed and painted.
As I re-entered my Kansas world, I was thinking about the consequence of neglect — whether it’s a building, a body, the community or the country. It all takes constant care and protection. Doing upkeep isn’t always fun, whether it’s your house or the government. It’s not as exciting as building something new. It’s even more boring than a crisis or a war. Upkeep is easily neglected — just like the church where the utilities were shut off or the garage without clean drain spouts. The little things we turn our backs on now make huge differences in the future.
It seems to me, that we’ve been neglecting our chores, not just in little towns like Ramona, but nationwide. While I was in California (my daughter doesn’t have a TV) I was even more unaware of the evening news than usual. Suddenly, I re-entered my world (where I watch the news once a week on Sunday morning) and discovered that troublemakers are still spouting about whether or not our President is a proper American citizen. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I mumbled. These people who peddle lies for their own twisted gratification or claim to fame are pathetic. That they are given credence is pathetic or considered newsworthy is pathetic. Beyond pathetic. Tragic.
The U.S. is a nation that needs to be doing upkeep. As a community, we need to be doing upkeep even though upkeep is not necessarily fun or hype for the evening news. This properly elected President of ours needs to be doing upkeep, reminding “we the people” that Freedom isn’t free and we need to be doing our chores. President Obama may not be doing everything we personally like, but then we aren’t walking in his shoes. We don’t know the price or the peril of leadership. This man inherited a mess, a country in worse shape than the country church outside of Ramona was or the siding on my old garage. He needs all the help he can get, all the support we can muster from an educated, truthful, light seeking electorate; not rocks thrown in the road by a bunch of publicity seeking procrastinating politicians.
I remember a year or so ago, when lies were being told about me and one of the perpetrators said, “Don’t take it personal, Pat, it’s just Politics.” No excuse! Lying is wrong. Untruth is not only destructive, it’s criminal. Meanness or intent to harm should not be tolerated, even in politics.
It was a sunny, spring day in California when I left the Napa Valley. I had paint in my hair and sore muscles but a grand feeling of gratification that with a little upkeep I’d saved something valuable for posterity. Then I headed back to spend another day in the country.