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The Beauty of Hospice Care

Having worked in a variety of church-related contexts for over four decades, I have become familiar with the importance of having a clear vision of one’s mission. In my experience, people are motivated by inspiring mission statements, and especially when they are enacted with cheerful efficacy. As advocates of Appreciative Inquiry maintain, a focus on what is working well builds energy and promotes a sense of well-being among participants.

As I reflect on the most compelling examples of institutions, facilities, or programs that I have encountered, the hospice movement in healthcare stands out. Whereas medical practice has increasingly become directed towards problem-solving and the alleviation of various conditions, along with our growing interest in future-oriented health maintenance, hospice care tends to be focused on a wholistic approach to the present well-being of a person. And I have found that hospice advocates and caregivers to be among the most positively mission-focused people I have met.

Aside from occasional background reading and some videos on the topic of hospice care, my experience over the years with this life-enhancing approach to being with other people was relatively brief. But then, it was unexpectedly transformed by a full and meaningful month of time spent with my dad, beginning with the discovery of his having a malignant brain tumor and ending with his peaceful death. He died surrounded by his four sons, in a remarkable facility dedicated solely to hospice care.

Arial view of the Trillium Woods location

I am particularly grateful for my dad’s opportunity to have been admitted to the Faith Hospice inpatient care facility at Trillium Woods in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Through my parish ministry, I knew about hospice care being provided at home and in other settings, but I had not had any personal experience with a residential facility built and maintained solely for hospice care. My dad’s move to Trillium Woods happened four days after his admission to hospital ER, on a cold, mid-December day. The hospice became his new temporary home, and we soon discovered how it was an unanticipated but blessed answer to prayer for him as well as for our family.

December is a tender time for families caring for or mourning loved ones, and we found that Faith Hospice staff members were especially sensitive to our emotions as the Christmas holiday season came into its fullness. We were impressed by the generously sized and attractively decorated room they were able to provide for my dad and the other patients, which included a comfortable sitting area, a bed area, and large windows and a door leading onto a beautiful terrace. Equally impressive was the rest of the facility, which had large lounge areas, a dining room and adjacent kitchen, and a well-designed chapel. Being able to have our family Christmas dinner there at the hospice (as well as other meals) was a comfort, and allowed us to focus on my dad and his care, and to be less absorbed with our own daily concerns.

A hospice patient’s room like the one my dad was in

Most significant to us was the dedicated staff, who were sensitive and attentive to each subtle stage in the process of my dad reckoning with and moving toward his impending death. Like them, my dad showed himself to be strong in faith, and fully at peace with seeing his final illness as a facet of God’s merciful Providence. Thankfully, he showed no signs of being in denial about what was happening to him. I attribute this to his decades of ministry as an ordained pastoral counselor, and as one who lived his faith while commending it to others.

During the process of my dad’s dying, I marveled at the ministry of Faith Hospice at Trillium Woods, and wondered about how many other such facilities exist around the country and elsewhere. I continue to wonder about this, and imagine that such a place is more often desired than found, being the kind of facility that everyone would want to have available should they need it.

The phrase, “the end of life,” is often used to refer to what hospice care is focused upon. Taken simply and literally, these words refer to the termination point we come to in the course of our physical embodiment. Yet, as I like to remember, our English word ‘end’ does not simply connote a terminus but also a point of fulfillment and the realization of purpose. In my experience of the hospice care that was offered to my dad and our family at Trillium Woods, I encountered a culture of ministry oriented toward lifting our eyes to a broader horizon of meaning for daily life. In this, I found the facility was aptly named as Faith Hospice, for clearly a grounded Christian Faith lay at the heart of the mission enacted on a daily basis at Trillium Woods.

Note: I have no official connection with Faith Hospice at Trillium Woods but only my personal experience of holy care from the folks there. With them, we journeyed through our final month with a family member amidst a loving community. More about this ministry and facility can be found by clicking here.

God’s Handiwork Inspires Ours

Stones found on a northern Lake Michigan beach

Labor Day is around the corner and some of us may receive and enjoy a day off from work. What we call retirement, a stage in life I am presently enjoying, tends to represent leaving work behind. Yet these and related ideas rest upon a common assumption, that work is different from, and in some ways inimical to, enjoying fulfillment in life.

I find a biblically based theological insight helpful when thinking about work. As with many matters that can be looked at from the perspective of Christian moral theology, our view of work can be enhanced by making reference to four specific reference points. These are, first, what we have learned about God’s purposes in Creation for this or that aspect of our lives; then, what impact sin associated with our Fall has had upon what we are thinking about; third, how God’s ongoing work of Redemption has restored and or transformed the matter presently under consideration; and fourth, to ask what future – if any – does this aspect of our lives have in Christ.

Work provides a wonderful topic for engaging in this fourfold inquiry. Based on our common way of thinking about work, it may be hard for us to consider the meaning of work from any other vantage point than of attributing its role in our lives to the Fall and to the ongoing effects of human sin. Yet, we can also learn from many who have come before us who have distinguished work from toil. This can help us see how forms of labor, and pejorative associations the word may have for us, are surely due to our proclivity to link such activity with burdensome unpleasant duties.

For what we may overlook is the biblical view of how God has shared stewardship responsibility for aspects of Creation with us, as beings created in God’s image and likeness. This was symbolized by the way that our mythic forebears (Adam and Eve) were given their ‘work’ of naming the animals as a path toward fulfillment. It was not until their expulsion from the Garden that the first human beings are described as prone to acts characteristic of sin. Thereupon, in biblical theology, our heavenly ‘work’ of praise, and of divinely-invited participation in God’s Creation stewardship, ceased to be pleasingly ready pathways toward human fulfillment, and became energy draining and spirit-diminishing activities – such as we tend to find them to be now.

A growing segment of the wider Christian community shows signs of acknowledging how God’s work of Redemption is ongoing, quite aside from its ‘once and for all time’ episodic saving events. The pattern and purpose remains the same – nothing fundamentally new is added, nothing old of lasting value taken away. Preeminent remains God’s abiding purpose for us to become and be God-like in God-intended ways. For, as Athanasius taught us, the Son of God became the Son of Man, so that the children of men and women could become the children of God. Work – not toil nor burdensome labor but creative and fulfilling work – remains a vital part of our holy path toward wholeness.

And to remind us of this abiding truth, the loving Creator has spread around us an uncountable abundance. These are the signs of outpoured and participatory grace, some of them very small, like stepped-upon seashore pebbles and tiny blossoms among hurried-by roadside weeds.

Too quickly we dismiss the significance of our our small acts of selfless giving, not to be counted by us, but adding up to so much more than we imagine in the life-growth of others. This is our holy ‘work,’ overlooked but important stepping stones on our path toward living into the godly fullness with which Christ fills us.

If on our daily course our mind

Be set, to hallow all we find,

New treasures still, of countless price,

God will provide for sacrifice.

Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be,

As more of heaven in each we see:

Some softening gleam of love and prayer

Shall dawn on every cross and care.

[John Keble, “Morning,” from The Christian Year]

Earl Young’s Boulder Park Charlevoix Houses

Earl Young’s Boulder Manor, built for himself, as seen on a recent day

Summer visitors to Charlevoix encounter at least two things about the area: first, that this part of Michigan is a haven for boat lovers and especially cruisers on the Great Lakes; and, second, that the city of Charlevoix is the home of Earl Young’s so-called ‘mushroom houses.’ The first observation regarding boats and the appealingly clear lake water is easily recognized. The second association with the area takes a bit of discernment, usually gained from seeing brochures or the small electric carts evident in town bearing the label, “Mushroom Houses Tours.”

A pleasant walk around Charlevoix while viewing the many houses that Earl Young designed and built in the community reveals that his approach to home design was not uniform, and that his work avoided that to which the wider community has also not succumbed – becoming a caricature of itself. For he could have approached his design work in such a way as simply to repeat and imitate prior successes, pressing forward as so many architects have done to inaugurate a particular and distinctive style in home design. Instead, Young consistently displayed his overriding commitment to his chosen materials – stone and stone-related products. Therefore, when at the age of 35 in 1924, and in buying a tract of land adjacent to the Lake Michigan shoreline, he built ten houses with enough variation among them that later homes constructed by others are frequently confused with those of his own design. Young gave the tract along with its homes the fitting label of Boulder Park.

The Owl House, named for the arched front windows

This variability in the architectural character of the Boulder Park homes helps us to begin to recognize how the common ascription to Earl Young, of being the mushroom house architect, is in some ways a misnomer for him. A few of his houses nicely justify the label, given their firm rootedness to their sites, their often low or extending rooflines with irregular surfaces, and his heavy use of large stones and boulders in a number of them. Yet, Young was equally comfortable specifying limestone cut in horizontal block slabs and even commercially available brick or block products with which to construct walls with traditional uniformly-spaced layers of mortar. We may not be enamored with the some of the results of his work, but I think most of us can identify with Young’s lifelong intention to remain true to his materials and to the sites in which he set them.

A 1929 limestone cottage in Boulder Park, known for the rolled edges of the eaves

Two neighboring homes in Boulder Park illustrate Young’s consistency of intent, and flexibility with regard to ‘style.’ Boulder Manor, built in 1928 (displayed at the top of this post), sits in close proximity to the Pagoda House, built in 1934, seen below.

My favorite among the Boulder Park houses is the home that Young built for himself, called Boulder Manor (top photo). It is constructed with massive pieces of stone and boulders from the area, and features a matching smaller playhouse for his daughters that has a working fireplace.

Rear view of Boulder Manor along with the playhouse for the Young’s daughters

In some ways Earl Young was a bundle of contradictions, an idiosyncratic visionary who was known to tell some clients what they needed in terms of a home, and yet also one who could reside with an out of town family for a considerable period of time so as to get to know how they lived before designing a home for them. He had a consistent love of rough, ‘undressed’ stone to be used as found, and at the same time a willingness to use stone in a very conventional way. Young was famous for wanting to do virtually everything ‘his way,’ often to the consternation of others, including town leaders. And yet, one house of his in Boulder Park was the result of a client convincing him to build a home based on a design plan found in a women’s magazine, the 1933 Enchanted Cottage with its very English-looking windows (seen below).

The best introduction to Earl Young’s Charlevoix houses is a widely available book by the photographer, Mike Barton, titled, Mushroom Houses of Charlevoix. Filled with color photographs, and documenting every one of Young’s structures built in his home town, the book provides superb photographs, and better ones than I am able to provide.

Earl Young’s Imprint on Charlevoix

Exterior view of Earl Young’s Weathervane Inn

As a young man from the rural north of Michigan, Earl Young aspired to produce ‘natural houses’ in the spirit of Frank Lloyd Wright, his inspiration and model for what became his own vocation. Young never studied with Wright, but the latter’s design spirit influenced him throughout his life. Though Young’s impact as an architect was essentially local (he designed only one house outside of Charlevoix), the present-day promotion of Charlevoix as a cultural destination is much in his debt for the way this community has come to be known as the home of the “mushroom houses.”

Earl Young studied architecture for one year at the University of Michigan. From the beginning he was impatient with a curriculum shaped by the kind of slavishness to European precedents that FL Wright also criticized. Young then returned to his hometown of Charlevoix to build houses, practice real estate in the family business, and sell insurance. He left the university program with his independent vision and architectural vocation intact, from which he never seemed to waver.

The Weathervane Inn adjacent to the Pine River channel and lift bridge

One recent appraisal of Young’s portfolio of buildings has suggested a neologism with which to describe his work, lithotecture, based on the Greek word for stone. For Earl Young did not simply value the utility of stone; he loved stone, and especially large boulders. He is remembered for having had a remarkable memory for the exact location, size, and texture of examples he had seen, collected, or stored away for future use. His profound appreciation for these materials, and the creative possibilities toward which they might be employed, is much in evidence throughout the older portion of Charlevoix in the many houses and other buildings he built and or designed, as well as in those influenced by them.

One of Earl Young’s Boulders Park homes (more of which are to be featured in a future post)

Earl Young’s impact upon the visual character of Charlevoix might be compared to a rather different example in architecture and in community design, the near-universal adoption of ‘the adobe style’ in Santa Fe, which has become a predominant approach to restoration, renewal, and original architectural creations. In the parallel example of Young’s case, his impact was through his way of being true to context by his use of stone, especially in highly creative ways. So pervasive has become his influence upon the development of Charlevoix that many other and more recent builders have been drawn to imitate Young’s extensive and sometimes whimsical use of locally available natural geologic materials. Given my own experience of living in south Louisiana, where hardly any naturally-occurring stone is to be found, I am struck by the abiding evidence of Young’s legacy as a community-based builder.

Two long-ago initiatives by Earl Young in particular serve to distinguish Charlevoix in the eyes of visitors, the Weathervane Inn, and the waterfront park adjacent to the city marina. Young replaced an aged mill along the edge of the Pine River channel with an attractive inn of his own design and construction, and he convinced town leaders to replace obsolete warehouses along the waterfront with what has become a four acre rolling green expanse of lawn. Both locations have become popular and much used gathering places for visitors as well as for Charlevoix residents.

The terrace overlook above the marina office – modern stonework in the Earl Young style

The marina waterfront as it has been developed in recent years demonstrates Earl Young’s lasting influence upon Charlevoix’s economic and cultural development. Realizing some of the potential latent within Young’s prescient inspiration for the land clearing that enabled the new park, several notable new structures have been built, among them a new marina office and locker rooms, and a dancing or synchronized fountain by its door.

Part of the natural-look landscaping surrounding the marina office

Landscaped around the marina office is a northern Michigan nature garden incorporating a human-made stream flowing between several shaded pools that contain rainbow trout. Also gracing the open green space of the park is a bandshell for weekly summer musical events, where concert-goers overlook the harbor docks and boat slips. Each of these structures, though constructed well after Young’s lifetime, reflects his vision for the beauty of stone laid up in asymmetrical curving walls.

The Earl Young influenced bandshell overlooking the marina and Round Lake harbor

Earl Young’s profound attachment to working with local geological material evinces a lifelong devotion to what can be accomplished through building with massive boulders, each weighing multiples tons. The best place to begin to appreciate this is by a visit to the previously mentioned Weathervane Inn, the earliest of his few public buildings. The massive fireplace assembled from a seeming heap of boulders, has one large stone that weighed 9 tons, so heavy that it caused a dislocation in the foundation prepared for it.

Exterior view of Earl Young’s massive Weathervane fireplace

Interior view of the Weathervane fireplace

In a subsequent post I plan to present and offer a brief reflection upon Earl Young’s Charlevoix residential design and construction projects, most commonly known as his ‘mushroom houses.’ In all of his work, Earl Young showed himself to be something of an unforgettable local genius, whose endearing and wonder-producing legacy of unique work has transformed his community over the decades.

Beautiful Charlevoix

A Charlevoix sunset from the pier where the Pine River channel meets Lake Michigan

When thinking of the beauty of a person, his or her character far outshines any outward physical characteristics a person might have. And when thinking of a beautiful community, we may do more justice to those who live in that area by engaging with some aspects of their daily lives than by focusing more simply upon the sights we associate with where they live.

I have been blessed to have been able to spend a number of weeks over many summers in Charlevoix, Michigan, largely through being able to live on our old boat (featured in my last post). With this piece, I want to highlight what I have found to be so special about this community and its splendid harbor and access to nearby ‘big water.’

Thursday Farmers’ Market along the main avenue above the city marina terrace

My first visit to Charlevoix may have been in around 2004. I had been to Traverse City and had seen its stunning turquoise waters, but Charlevoix was new to me. I was immediately drawn to what I saw of it during a lunch visit. Sitting on the deck of the Weathervane restaurant, I watched boats of all kinds and sizes pass through the raised arms of the drawbridge that otherwise crosses the channel between the town’s natural harbor, called Round Lake, and Lake Michigan.

The Charlevoix lift bridge over the Pine River channel

Many voyagers making passages on the American Great Loop stop in Charlevoix, as do occasional sailors from Europe on summer forays across the Atlantic, who then sail here through the Great Lakes. Even some well-known ‘tall ships’ stop here. The Pride of Baltimore was passing through the harbor on the day we arrived for our visit this year.

The Pride of Baltimore passes through the lift bridge by The Weathervane, out to Lake Michigan (in a prior year)

Visitors from larger cities find in Charlevoix a few of the amenities we associate with grander places. For over a century, Charlevoix has also been the home of two private communities of summer ‘cottages.’ Many of the boats (yachts, really) that we see on the area waters attest to the levels of discretionary income available to folks from Chicago and Detroit who make Charlevoix their summer home. Consequently, boat maintenance and winter storage facilities are substantial local businesses here.

Boats receiving maintenance at our boatyard

Yet, upon arriving in Charlevoix for my first boating visit, and docking at the city marina for a couple of weeks, I was struck by what I learned about the real, year-round community to be found here. The harbor master was a teacher at the high school, and the young people working at the marina and at main street stores were his students as well as local residents. I continue to shop for groceries with folks from town at a store they patronize throughout the year, and buy tools and replacement parts with them at the local hardware store.

A typical older and well-kept home in town

I think what many visitors find so compelling about Charlevoix is how the community has yet to succumb to a condition that has beset many places with some similar attributes. Charlevoix, in my estimation, has resisted becoming a caricature of itself. The tourist-souvenir storefronts do not outnumber shops that maintain a viable year-round business, and local history is esteemed because it remains real to those who live here, rather than offered as a commodity for visitors.

The Charlevoix Public Library, and former community K—12 school

For me, the best example of this is a place we have come to love, the Charlevoix public library, which was once the town’s K—8 school, and which includes a reading room with a fireplace that earlier served as the Kindergarten room! And as long as you are not looking for lake view or waterfront property, an ordinary home in town is still affordable for many people.

The library main reading room, once a school gymn

The former Kindergarten room with its fireplace and bay window

But, of course, sitting as it does on the rocky and wooded shore of northern Lake Michigan, this town and its surrounding fields and forests, along with its tidy and well-kept streets and homes, is a truly beautiful place in the summer. Winter up here lasts a very long time, making the warm months all the more precious. I remember visiting on May 1 years ago, only to find that ice still stretched across the 18 miles of Lake Charlevoix! By that date, it is already full summer in Louisiana.

After some years of regretful absence, I am so happy to be up in beautiful Charlevoix once again.

The Little Gem of the Talyllyn Railway

A diminutive 0-4-0 steam locomotive on the Talyllyn Railway

Among the charms of Wales are the narrow gauge railways that meander up from the coast through the verdant dales that lie between often steep mountainsides. Several of these lines were first established as early as the mid-nineteenth century as simple and utilitarian slate delivery railways. Ongoing preservation efforts related to them have attracted increasing attention, in part because their histories are interconnected with the economic and social circumstances of many small Welsh communities and their rural surroundings.

The route of the Talyllyn Railway, from Tywyn Wharf on the Welsh coast to the slate quarry at Byrn Eglwys

At about nine miles in length, the Talyllyn provides an attractive example of a Welsh narrow gauge railway. Its small scale is endearing. And so is the story of Tom Rolt and his fellow volunteers’ remarkable efforts to keep this venerable line running when, in 1951, its demise seemed certain. Their work of founding and then sustaining the Talyllyn Railway Preservation Society is told in a book by Rolt, first published in 1953, and still in print.

Tom Rolt’s captivating book about the preservation of the Talyllyn Railway

Through Rolt and his team’s efforts, the Talyllyn became the world’s first heritage railway and a viable commercial enterprise. Like several other Welsh narrow gauge railways, the Talyllyn had its origin as a means of transporting slate from upland quarries down to seaside piers or transfer to larger rail lines. Some of these narrow gauge railways first used horses to pull the empty ’wagons’ up to the quarries, while slate cutters rode the heavy wagons filled with slate roof shingles on the downhill run, relying upon handbrakes alone for a safe journey! The first steam locomotives arrived on the Talyllyn upon receipt of the railway’s charter by an Act of Parliament in 1865, and two of them are still running.

A train upon arrival at Tywyn Wharf station, the origination point for the route

Among the social impacts of the Second World War upon the lives of those in the United Kingdom was a contemporaneous rise in the mobility of many citizens for the purposes of work and leisure, while changes in historic industries like slate mining were negatively impacted by foreign competition. At a time when slate quarries such as the one served by the Talyllyn were waning in production, increased opportunities for tourism, especially for workers from urban industrial areas, gave new life and purpose for several historic Welsh narrow gauge railways by providing access to holiday destinations. The Golgoch Viaduct illustrates an aspect of this transition from the railway’s utilitarian origins to its present role in providing memorable recreation experiences. The viaduct remains a beautiful example of Victorian engineering whose original purpose was simply to serve as a means of allowing relatively level access to a slate quarry, and which over time has become a noted tourist destination itself.

Standard gauge railroads in America and in Britain have a space of four feet and eight and a half inches between the rails. By contrast, the Talyllyn has a gauge (or gap between the rails) of two foot, three inches. Though narrow gauge train carriages must therefore be built more narrowly in contrast to those operating on standard gauge track, the smaller Welsh trains can travel on lighter rails, laid on narrower roadbeds with tighter curves, making these railways more practical for their original purpose of serving mountain quarries.

The locomotive, “Edwin Thomas,” leads a ‘goods wagon’ and three slate wagons over the Dolgoch Viaduct

Several videos showing the run from Tywyn Wharf to Abergynolwyn can be found on YouTube (links below), two of which are filmed from the viewpoint of the engineer in the locomotive’s cab. Though the length of the Talyllyn is just under ten miles, the journey with stops takes upwards of 45 minutes. Yet, given the beautiful Welsh mountains and valleys, and the train’s relatively slow movement, the route of this historic railway seems much longer. I hope someday to enjoy a ride up and down this historic and scenic route.

The Dolgoch, an original Talyllyn 0-4-0 steam locomotive on the siding at Tywyn Wharf

For those who would enjoy an engineer’s view of a journey on the Talyllyn, I commend the following two videos: “Talyllyn Railway – a cab ride on Loco No.3 from Wharf to Nant Gwernol” (https://youtu.be/pOnMFEdcBb4?si=OEjaoG5nplND0JC_), and “‘Dolgoch’ takes us for a Full Line Trip on the Talyllyn Railway” (https://youtu.be/iMjUxDpYcUk?si=Kr6-WAwIeePWdYN0). After viewing these, you will want to join the many others who make pilgrimages to this venerable railway ‘shrine’!

The Allure of a Classic Old Boat: Our Nimble 24

Our Ted Brewer designed Nimble 24 sailboat, DAYSTAR

There is an affliction that is common to owners of sailboats, known as ‘one-foot-itis.’ The name refers to our ever present desire to have just that much more room inside the boat, or within her sail plan, cabin height, or in the extent of her amenities. Speaking for myself, I admire the beautiful sailing yachts my brother has been photographing on the southern coast of France. Yet, aside from the unimaginable purchase cost of a 45 or 70 foot ocean cruiser, I don’t wish to have to contend with all the maintenance work and expenses associated with such a boat. As the old saying goes: the best definition of a boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money!

Yet, for the owner of a small boat, another foot or two of length could bring with it greater stability, hull width, and such things as an enclosed working ‘head’ (I.e. toilet) and full galley (small kitchen). Standing head room inside would be a real plus. Usually, with each additional foot of length comes a proportionately larger volume of workable space and hull displacement (weight). These variables bring with them additional maintenance issues, transportation challenges, and docking fees, resulting in an overall increase in operating costs.

My own experience with ‘one-foot-itis’ came from my enthusiastic enjoyment of our 15’ West Wight Potter, a boat whose ‘cabin’ is sometimes described as having the interior space of a pup tent, while resting on a boat with the buoyancy of a cork. I cruised solo on the boat for two weeks one summer, and was hooked on the pleasure associated with that kind of time away on the water. Then, naturally (sailors will understand this), I began looking at bigger boats, of a size that would enhance my cruising adventures.

I have always loved classic boats and ships, and the designs of a marine architect, Ted Brewer, came to my attention. I read about his Nimble 20 sailboat in Small Craft Advisor, and then discovered his Nimble 24. When one came up for sale on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain, I had found our next boat. With bronze ports (windows), a teak and holly sole (floorboards), and tanbark sails, she is indeed a classic. Built in 1988, she is hull #3 of the N24 series. We named her DAYSTAR

Brewer designed the Nimble 24 with some significant criteria in mind. She would not be a ‘blue water’ or oceangoing boat, but one capable of voyaging around Puget Sound, or a crossing from Florida to the Bahamas. Some of the features Brewer designed into the Nimble include provision for safe passages in coastal waters while also being able to enter shallow inlets; cruising room for two adults with small children and or pets; space for an enclosed ‘head’ (toilet), with two distinct cabin areas as well as a cooking area. She is of a canoe-yawl design and therefore a ‘double-ender,’ with a small mizzen or second mast allowing a flexible sail plan for a variety of conditions. Her shallow draft or depth tolerance is attained by a short but heavy fin keel containing a retractable centerboard, along with a retractable rudder extension.

Removing and replacing old bottom paint: doable with jacks, patience, and some courage

For practical reasons, her outboard sits in a motor well in the aft of the cockpit, providing easy access as well as a dependable drain point should the cockpit be swamped with water. The boat is built with positive floatation within the hull, meaning that should the boat be filled with water, she will not sink. She has relatively high sides with a ‘sharpie’ (somewhat flat) hull, and her good stability enables her to handle a fair bit of wind and adverse waves.

Rowing in just after sunrise over Charlevoix harbor

All of these features result in a boat well-suited for ‘gunkholing,’ or navigating into shallow coves and inlets. DAYSTAR can be brought right up to edge of a river or beach, though her skipper must take care to keep sand or mud from getting into the outboard engine’s impeller (water-cooling intake). On the open water, she sails well, and we can regularly reach a comfortable if not a sometimes thrilling 5 knots (or 5-6 mph) with decent wind. We have sailed her on Lake Michigan, and on the adjoining 18 mile long Lake Charlevoix, as well as on Lake Pontchartrain.

The cabin interior showing both the main and forward comparment areas

As the photos here may suggest, our stays on DAYSTAR involve camping on the boat, and she serves us as something like a little floating summer cottage. We rely on a large water jug, a good cooler with daily additions of ice, a small grill, and a portable-potty, for our basic needs. Many people love RV’s for camping holidays, something we can mimic with DAYSTAR when she is trailered. But we love sailing and the flexibility of having no roads to follow. Keeping an eye on the weather is always vital, and having good charts and GPS navigation help us discover and navigate safely unfamiliar waters. Given all these features that bring us pleasure, we are looking forward to some time away on DAYSTAR this summer.

A nice breeze fills our sails as we point toward the horizon over Lake Michigan

In honor of my friend, Norm Laskay, who was DAYSTAR’s skipper and her knowledgeable and careful steward before she came to us.

Beauty: Found, Received, and Made

A photo from Èze, France (by my brother)

While undertaking my studies in ethics and moral theology, I discerned a significant parallel that has continued to shape my world-view. The parallel I have in mind connects how we understand law with how we understand ethics. In turn, I have come to see how this discernment applies also to how we appreciate beauty.

First, about where law comes from. As I understand it, there are three principal theories about our source or sources for law, formally termed theories of jurisprudence. They are not mutually exclusive, and may function for us in overlapping ways.

A common understanding regarding the source of law views the concept of law as fundamental to and discernible within the structure of reality. Law in this first sense is something we find, written into the patterns of the world, and of its many aspects. This idea gives rise to, but is not the same thing as, the so-called ‘laws of nature,’ or the principles that order the function of many things from the most basic particles within matter, and the function of waves like light and energy, the functions we discern within complex biological organisms however malleable they may seem to be over time, as well as within the structure of rationality.

A well-known expression of this first concept of law is latent within the familiar phrasing regarding what it means to be a human being: “we hold these truths to be self-evident…” That is, certain truths or principles are there to be found, by those who exercise our capacity for reason and discernment. A simple but sometimes misleading label for this first concept of law is ‘natural law,’ which some skeptics might argue is neither!

The second most commonly recognized theory of the source of law can be articulated by observing those principles and ‘rules’ long-rooted in the history of our communities, which we receive from those who have come before us. British Common Law, which undergirds much of our tradition of law in the United States, is a prime example. ‘Received from history,’ and long relied upon by communities, are two basic ways to label and identify this concept of law. The familiar refrain, ‘we have always done it in this way,’ provides a ready example.

The third way of understanding the source and character of law perceives law to be comprised of those principles and or rules that have been decided by individuals and communities. It is commonly called ‘positive law,’ a label that refers to the law that we posit, or put into place. The existence of law in this third category represents the assertion of will and of choice, for law in this sense arises from us as something we make, and is dependent upon our projection of what we wish or believe to be true. Many examples, from neighborhood clubhouse rules to Louisiana’s state constitution (resting upon the French Napoleonic legal tradition), are expressions of this approach.

These three theoretical understandings of the source of law are relevant for my own field of ethics. For in ethics, there are three principal bases for our concept of the Good, and upon which our notion of the Good rests, which correspond to three principal forms of jurisprudence or theories of the source of law.

Moonrise off the harbor breakwater in Antibes (photo also by Gregory Holmgren)

If this is correct, and I believe it is, then surely we can reason appropriately toward the same conclusion regarding Beauty as well as for Truth. For Beauty and Truth as Transcendentals play the same foundational role in our thinking as the Good, which functions as a principal reference point for ethics in human reasoning and experience.

This leads me to recognize how there are three principal ways of accounting for the source or sources of beauty. With regard to Beauty, positivists will contend that ideas regarding beauty are projections of those who hold them, whether by individuals or by communities. Historicists, in parallel with the common law tradition of jurisprudence, will say that notions of beauty are rooted in the histories of communities and the traditions, and are to this extent reliable guides for thinking about things. And – as follows from the preceding, those who accept the natural law tradition in jurisprudence are those most likely to view beauty as a given feature of reality, here and there for us to encounter, regardless of our shared traditions and personal aspirations.

In closing, I want to restate a point I made above. Whether we are accounting for the source or sources of Beauty, Goodness, and or Truth, we may prefer one or more of three ways I have articulated based on the three principal approaches to the sources of law. Yet, all three approaches are likely to figure into and be a part of our thinking. For example, we may think that notions of beauty are rooted in nature, while valuing how our Western tradition of art has shaped our thoughts and those of our community, while still also recognizing how we may be somewhat arbitrary regarding the forms or standards of beauty that we prefer to value and pursue! Especially because the first or second of these three approaches may serve as a corrective to and perhaps as also a check against the potential liabilities associated with the third.

What Distinguishing Religion, Science, Magic, and Technology, Might Teach Us About Beauty

Peter Kreeft has written an illuminating essay on the use of indirect communication by CS Lewis and Walker Percy. In it, and in a humorous recording of its content, he explores how both Lewis and Percy present the predicament of the modern person. We live as upside-down persons. And we are not among the first people in history to suspect this. (See St. Augustine, d. 430 AD)

As a way into the heart of his theme, Kreeft invites us to consider a hypothetical challenge posed to a child: take four common objects and sort them into two boxes. The four items are a baseball, a basketball, a baseball bat, and a basketball net. The two most obvious solutions to this challenge, based on the categories of being and doing, nicely set up a thought experiment that Kreeft intends for his audience to engage. He invites us to sort the following four things into two (undefined) categories: Religion, Science, Magic, and Technology. Try it.

In taking up this simple quiz question, we discover one way that our contemporary thinking habits depart from those of our ancient forebears. Our common assumption that science and technology are sister fields, reliably distinguished by their empirical methodology from both religion and magic, reflects a misunderstanding. For what we may overlook in this supposition of an affinity between science and technology, as well as between the second pair of terms, is how our categorization of these four terms demonstates our understanding of what we consider to be real. And the key variable governing our typical way of sorting these four conceptual categories centers less on what is ‘real,’ and more on the significance of how we conceptualize our encounter with ‘reality.’

A theme that has surfaced from time time in this space, and which plays a large role in structuring my understanding of Beauty, rests upon my appreciation for the distinction between the meaning of the words ‘objective’ and ‘subjective.’ I credit my graduate research in ethics and moral theology for raising my awareness of what these terms can and do mean. With regard to Beauty, and more broadly about what is real versus what is presently actual in our awareness of things, ‘objective’ best refers to the objects of perception, and ‘subjective’ in a corollary way best refers to the subject of perception (I.e., to me, the observer, the knower).

Kreeft makes the case that both CS Lewis and Walker Percy shared a conceptual understanding with many philosophers and writers from the pre-modern era. In making the point, Kreeft quotes what he says are the three most illuminating sentences he has ever read about our civilization:

“There is something which unites magic and applied science [i.e., technology] while separating both from the “wisdom” of earlier ages. For the wise men of old, the cardinal problem had been how to conform the soul to reality, and the solution had been knowledge, self-discipline, and virtue. For magic and applied science alike, the problem is how to subdue reality to the wishes of men: the solution is a technique.”

And if we have not guessed where Kreeft is headed with all this, he puts the matter succinctly: “Technology is more like magic than like science.” It follows that he commends thinking of religion as being like science by also involving a search for what is real and true, even if differing in its methodology and content.

A challenge related to Kreeft’s theme, regarding how we approach beauty, faces us as modern people. It stems from how – through the influence of our culture – we are inclined to think of art and architecture as being more akin to magic and technology, than to science and religion. For we tend to assume that artists and architects manipulate materials and space to stimulate certain responses from those who interact with their work. And, of course, they do. But is this all that these crafters of beautiful things accomplish? Are they not also among those who seek and make available to others instantiations of what is real, and more particularly of the beauty that is there for us also to perceive and come to know? I believe that they are.

Artists and architects approach the world in a way that has an affinity with those who work in religion and science, while what they do may seem to be like the work of those who ‘practice’ technology or magic. For like all genuine seekers of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty, scientists (especially theoretical physicists) as well as religionists include dedicated persons who want to know these real aspects of the world that may be apprehended by those who look for them.

I continue to learn by reflecting on these themes.

Note: Kreeft develops at greater length than I have scope here to address the significance of these and related distinctions. He does this in his essay, “Walker Percy’s Lost in the Cosmos: The Abolition of Man in Late Night Comedy Format.” I commend an entertaining recording of Kreeft’s presentation of the essay’s content, which can be found on his website (by clicking this link).

Denver’s New Train Platforms

The 2012 Denver Train Station train shed, adjacent to the historic Denver Union Station

I have had a lifelong love of trains and of the stations where we board them. My love for them is partly inherited. My grandfather worked his whole career on the Soo Line RR, having retired as a Conductor on the overnight “Winnepeger,” running from his home in the Twin Cities to the city of the train’s namesake. And my father worked on the same railroad while in college. Of course, having spent my younger years in Japan, riding trains was an everyday occurrence.

And so I am delighted this week to feature the ‘new’ (2012) open-air train shed built adjacent to Denver’s historic Union Station (now beautifully repurposed as the Crawford Hotel). What especially pleases me about the new station’s addition to the opportunities available to rail travelers in the U.S. is the apparent intention for this project to reflect a harmony with Denver’s tensile-structure airport terminal (featured in my prior post).

SOM Architects Transportation Hub site plan

The new station awning structure with the historic Union Station in the background

These train station platforms and their exuberant rooflines at the heart of the city, designed as part of a new transportation hub, were the creation of the long-successful and ‘big name’ architectural firm, Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill (now generally known as SOM). The awning-like structures over the platforms recall the translucent glass and steel train platform awnings familiar to rail travelers in the U.K. A difference here from the also-white structures at Denver Airport is the predominant use of steel beams as principal supports for the awnings, rather than a primary reliance upon tensile cables and poles. A greater resemblance to bridge structures results from this design choice, while also retaining the stretched fabric layers of weather protection, which like those of the airport are translucent. A lyrical building for public use once again has been provided for travelers to and within Denver.

Interior view showing the translucent fabric awning panels and support beams

One other significant connection between Denver Airport and the city’s new transportation hub has been established by the construction of a rail line directly linking the two. Adjacent to the tracks employed by Amtrak’s cross-country trains, Denver now has a rail line dedicated to the needs of those who wish to get to the airport, saving time as well as parking and or shuttle costs.

Station interior showing the Regional Transportation District (RTD) airport train platforms (foreground)

An RTD airport train arriving at its destination

Denver’s new transportation hub serves as an attractive inner city renewal project, and provides a similar sense of uplift and visual ‘joy’ as does the airport. Along with the nearby 1995 Coors Field baseball park, the hub further enhances the visitor-appeal of the city’s downtown area, and serves as a central point for the region’s light rail network (RTD / Regional Transportation District).

The Station Complex with the Union Station Crawford Hotel and Denver downtown skyline

Increasingly we are recognizing the continuing implications of America’s significant distances between cities, the relatively low population density of areas between them, and how our reliance upon our cars and our expansive interstate highway system has reduced the financial viability of railroads as a primary resource for our passenger transportation needs. Nevertheless, it is pleasing to see that where new or revitalized rail stations and terminals are contemplated, there has been a demonstrated growth in awareness of their significance as public spaces not only through which we meet our travel needs, but as places where we meet and share meaningful time with others.

SOM’s Denver Station and the design of its open-air train awnings reminds me of another building, one I have loved since childhood, Kenzo Tange’s 1964 Tokyo Olympics aquatics building, which my family passed by on many family Sunday train trips to church. Tange’s employment of catenary cables for the suspension of the sweeping curved rooflines serves in a similar way as Denver Station to lift our awareness above ourselves. Design achievements like these move us to contemplate beauty as a noble goal of architecture and in engineering, a goal just as important to us as utility and efficiency.

Kenzo Tange’s catenary cable supported roofline for his 1964 Olympics aquatic center

What the new Denver Train Station replaced

Note: My prior post featuring Tange’s Olympics aquatic center can be viewed by clicking here.

Toward Beauty

In Art, Faith and Life ~ STEPHEN HOLMGREN