Our Hearts Are
In my years of watching old buildings be abandoned, crumble away, and eventually collapse or get demolished — I've heard a lot of folks express wishes they were saved. But they always want to outsource the saving, unwilling to offer an ounce of effort or a penny of their money to the project. I'd rather we be realistic about the loss, and truthful when the end comes. It's like offering thoughts and prayers to civilian victims of overseas conflicts, then not voting for leaders who want to end the killing. There's got to be a point between claiming we care and admitting we'll do nothing about it. On one hand, sure, I love this old United Baptist Church, and the graveyard out back. It's been here on the shoulder of West Dalhousie Road since 1895, and I always keep an eye out in passing. But my concerns for preservation lie elsewhere. I've got no need for an old building in the woods, and nor has anyone else, it seems. That's okay. It's fine to say farewell sometimes, to realize our hearts are in another place. The worst is when we back away and say to all who see us that we aren't. There will always be cases where we do nothing — and it's best to keep that honesty intact.
April 17, 2025
West Dalhousie, Nova Scotia
Year 18, Day 6367 of my daily journal.
