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| My late sister Joanne in front of the original beach house |
There’s no
doubt about it, change can be a bitch, and as life’s drama unfolds, I am confronted with it at every turn. Relationships form, relationships are
shattered, friends and family move, people have kids, people get sick; people
die. For me, the past ten years have been particularly unsettling in this regard,
as I have shared the universal experience of dealing with the end stages of my
parents’ lives. While I feel fortunate to have had wonderful parents, who both
lived well into their nineties, there is no denying that the last years were
difficult. The problem I had, and which most people probably have, was what to keep,
what to sell, and what to give away.
After Mom and
Dad were both gone, we had an estate sale, then sold the family house in Buffalo
shortly thereafter. As well, there was a
beach house, a summer home on the lake, across the border in Fort Erie, and I kept telling myself that I could
not sell that house as long as my mom was still alive. The house had been in
her family since she was a little girl, and that would have been devastating to
her. In truth, it was I who could not bear to part with the house, and I
suppose I equated the physical structure with so many happy memories. When the
economy turned south in 2008, the issue became moot because there were then no
buyers. The next four or five years were a string of hassles with summer
rentals, upkeep, taxes, and deferred maintenance and repairs. This property,
which had represented so many wonderful memories for four generations of the Lehman
and Oppenheimer families, was now becoming a bothersome expense. With a heavy heart, I finally sold the property
last fall. I made one last sweep for mementoes, then locked the door for the
last time.
After the
deal closed, I naturally assumed the new owners would tear down the existing structures
and start from scratch. The house was in obvious need of extensive repair, and
I envisioned some compound springing up with no soul or warmth, inhabited by jerks
who could never enjoy the place the way my family had. That was not the case. Earlier
in the summer, I was delighted to receive some photos from a friend who had
photographed the house as it was being slowly renovated. The new owners
opted to keep the bones of the old house and rebuild. This, coupled with later
reports that they were a family with young children, who seemed to be enjoying
the house as much as my family had, made me very happy. Hey, they even have a boat.
Last weekend,
while down in Ft. Erie to visit my best friend, we took a boat ride down the
bay and I had the opportunity to meet the new owners. They were gracious
enough to give me a tour of the improved house. What they have done to the old
house is nothing short of spectacular and I was beyond delighted to see that,
in so many ways, the original edifice, albeit contemporized, is still there. In
fact, from the beach, it still looks very much like the old house.
I realize I can’t
stop the march of time, although I have lately felt profoundly out of step with
it. I have let go of so many things that I foolishly deluded myself would be
around forever. But I am getting better at
this. Seeing that family beach house in good hands, I felt just a little bit more
in sync. While I am learning that I have little or no control over how the events in my life
unfold, I can find my peace with that notion that some changes are for the
best.
-Written by
Jamie Oppenheimer c 2015 ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
1 comment:
:)
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