Salvaging Our World
There is a man who lives nearby whose not-so-secret joy in life is found in wielding a chainsaw and building stacks of firewood. In all weather and all seasons he is out in search of that which needs cutting. A weather alert must leave him all atremble, sitting at the kitchen table fondling, oiling, and sharpening his Stihl with prayerful hope. If a storm should by chance drop a tree across his yard, it would put him no doubt into a euphoric state in response to nature’s acts of destruction.
Who am I to judge? For it should be said that while a fallen tree fills me with dread, I do so enjoy a good old-fashioned demolition, a systematic taking down of old structures with the plan of repurposing the materials at a later date. When Cindy broaches the subject of getting rid of a building (and usually reconfiguring it), I gather up my sledgehammer and assorted crowbars and get to work. Because, for me, dismantlement is my secret joy. We all must find our own spiritual path.
I’m currently tearing down our deck in anticipation of pouring a concrete slab and then rebuilding the deck in the same place and approximate style. (For the few who are wondering, the concrete pad is intended to help direct rain away from the house.) Another man might look at the pile of cast-off lumber on a construction site and think “burn it”; the dilapidated tobacco barn, “bulldoze it.” Me? I’m reaching for my wrecking bar, ready to knock down, pull nails, and start stacking boards.
Now, do not mistake me for some flinty New Englander with his box in the attic labeled “String too short to be saved.” I certainly contribute my share of waste. Still, before something makes the final trip to the dump, I remove hardware, gate pins, and useful wood. I’ll even admit to possessing a collection of grimy old Briggs and Stratton engines and lawnmower blades. In my heart I know they will not be reused. Then again, who knows?
As a teenager I was well groomed for my life to come. I worked construction in South Louisiana, mostly at a yard where we prepared shipments needed for various jobsites. A typical summer was spent cleaning old concrete forms, pulling nails, and stacking lumber, all to be used again at some point in the future.
When we moved to the farm in 1999, we inherited a 120-by-30–foot white metal-clad barn. It was an industrial eyesore, so I tore down half of the structure. Within a couple of months I had the remains cleaned and stacked: neat piles of 6-by-6 posts, 20-foot sheets of metal roofing, 2-by-4s, joist hangers in buckets, nails separated by size—all ready to be repurposed. Over the next ten years nearly every scrap was incorporated into new and reconfigured buildings on the farm.
As the anarchist Bakunin said, “The passion for destruction is also a creative passion.” There is something deeply satisfying, even aesthetically pleasing about tackling a takedown, the cleanup, and the eventual reinvestment of materials. Let us remember, after all, that the deconstructive art has a long and noble history. Nature has been practicing it ever since that first loud whack of the Big Bang started us on this path.
Our modern world is so busy extracting resources, creating its own ruins (not to mention its own ruin), that salvaging seems only a sensible approach to sustaining life, the truly creative act. Swinging a sledge and then stacking the lumber, making new clothes out of old cloth—the trifecta of deconstruction–salvage–reuse—may be just what we need in this world for whatever comes next.
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Note: My book from Front Porch Republic, Kayaking with Lambs, Notes from an East Tennessee Farmer, is on sale here for $15.99. Send Bezos to Mars and buy a copy or three.
Don Fiene would give you an A+. No found item was discharged, but put to good use. Judy
I may be that flinty New Englander... though it was a trait honed in New Mexico where nothing is ever wasted because everything has to come from elsewhere. Much easier to deal in elsewhen. I do, in fact, have a scrap thread, yarn, and twine box. The remarkable thing is the use I get out of it, particularly in tying up the tomatoes.