The Immutable Power of Nature
I have pontificated on many subjects here and in general. Pondering the great truths of life is something I am prone to doing more and more the older I get. I think in some ways that is very natural, but in other ways I have an unnatural need to declare these great truths, not so much because I don’t think others have thought them before me, but rather because I want the universe to know that I have figured them out. It somehow seems important to be recognized for being observant enough (I don’t think its as much about being astute as it is about taking notice) to gain awareness of the nature of this life we inhabit. One of those overarching themes is the immutable power of nature. It is matched and balanced only by the grace of the human soul for its power to guide the path of destiny. The subject is on my mind this Friday morning before the long Independence Day weekend because I am sitting on the back deck of Homeward Bound, my Ithaca home for the past twenty-six years. As my readers are well aware, this will be my last summer here and I am hyper-sensitized to all that surrounds me here.
As people age, their bodies naturally deteriorate from use and abuse. For some that happens sooner than others. Some postpone the inevitable through good and regular maintenance and the occasional replacement of parts. Kim, for example has two artificial knees that she swears by that have extended her ability to walk and enjoy the simple pleasures of mobility in her second half. Some just let nature takes its course and hobble around with whatever malady happens to have afflicted them and make due with changing their lives to accommodate their disabilities. And still others, a category I will place myself in for the time being (never knowing for sure when my luck will change), are lucky enough or shrewd enough to have avoided major disabilities and just soldier on as though little or nothing has happened. But the inevitability of deterioration is just that, inevitable. No matter how you ward it off or get lucky or just grin and bear it, the human body does deteriorate and eventually fail. The sign on the West Side Highway that declares that the person that will reach age 150 is alive today may be true, but that does not argue against my point so much as imply that the timing of the deterioration is a moving target that is aided by genetics and medical science, and eventually probably by genetic science. DNA sequencing and all that we can learn about fixing the human body’s maladies notwithstanding, none of us will live forever. I know some people want to debate that, but at least they have to admit that it is nature’s way of renewal and survival that entities live and die and procreate while they are at it to perpetuate the species.
My point in all of this is that nature has seen fit to give us the incentive to accept our fate of a mortal existence by showing us that things are not meant to last forever and that it is less fun and fulfilling to carry on with a body that is less than capable and vital. Many of us as we age worry less about death because life is not always easy and it generally gets a bit harder as we age. That reminds us that every journey must come to an end and that there is no tragedy in that news, but rather some satisfaction for a journey well taken. Similarly, nature does the same thing to the physical presence we create within which we live our lives. Houses all sooner or later go to ruin. Some last longer than others. Some are better maintained and renovated than others. But on the same premise that nothing lasts forever and that trees do not grow to the sky, all things must and do pass.
This sounds very fatalistic, but it feels less so if you take it as the natural course of events. If people and animals live and die in due course, so do trees, and bushes and even rocks. Some last a long time and some are like the Mayfly that last for only 24 hours and is then gone, leaving the world to it’s successors. I doubt the Mayfly has the luxury to spend much time worrying about its lifespan or trying to lengthen it and instead gets the most it can out of its day in the sun. All things have a natural lifespan.
When I purchased the leasehold on this property in Ithaca, the University wanted to sell me a 30 year leasehold. We all know that long-term institutions like to maintain control of their environment and thus insist on maintaining freehold of the land that comes into its possession. Institutions, unlike beings, think they can last forever and operate to that end by doing things like offering leaseholds versus freeholds of land within their intended sphere of influence. The theory goes that they may expand in such a way as to want that land in the future and while they can wait out any mere mortal, they cannot wait out a freeholders right to legacy his holding for generations to come. I refused to do the 30-year lease and said I would do a 99-year lease. Time must have been tough back then because the University agreed. I, in turn, got creative and chose to gift back the back-end 74 years of that leasehold to the business school, keeping only a 25-year life use, which had certain tax advantages. I am generally not a shrewd manipulator of tax law so I assume the at least subconsciously I must have thought that 25 years was the natural lifecycle I would find value and necessity in having sway over this property.
I do not know whether the right answer was 25 or 30 or 50 or 99, but I can say that there is a natural lifespan to the ownership of a vacation home. While I think my daughter and her girls would challenge me on my choice of 25 years, it is not clear to me that nature disagrees with me. What I mean by that is that nature seems to be overtaking the old homestead for at least the second or third time in its lifetime. When I first saw the house in 1996 it was as close to being a derelict as local ordinances probably allowed. The foundation was crumbling, the clapboard was warped and rotting, the paint was beyond renovation and the outbuilding like the barn and shed were mere rickety wooden shells that sat on the flimsiest of footings that would not pass any form of building code muster if not for being in place already. Nature was about to reclaim this property in its entirety and then I came along and altered that course through a massive and total renovation that started at the foundation and went up from there. The outbuildings were completely replaced and put on sound foundations, the foundation was literally buttressed with interior flying buttresses and almost all systems of the house from HVAC to electrical to plumbing were replaced and updated. It was, in effect renewed in its entirety. And it has lasted well given the amount or regular annual maintenance I have diligently applied through the good offices of Cousin Pete.
Now it has been only eight months that the University has wrested control of the property form me. They had my full maintenance and renovation plan in hand and have seen fit to replace the HVAC as suggested, but have pretty much allowed everything else to take its more natural course. The original building is starting to crumble and the weathered portions like the porch and stair railings have already rotted to dysfunction. Everywhere I look I see decay and deterioration. Where there is an interface with nature, nature is prevailing and taking over. The gravel driveway, which was just regraveled last season is already overrun with weeds. The bushes that normally get pruned back vigorously are over growing the fences. The fences too are starting to get sway-backed and looking like replacement is imminent. And while a part of me hates to see this natural decay occur, another part of me is cognizant and thankful that I am being reminded that everything has its season and everything must pass. I no longer have the ability or will to fight the immutable power of nature as it wants to move to its next logical stage in the progression of life.