That same old question.

I had lunch today with some friends and in the course of conversation it was revealed that one among the group was unaware of the Mud House and its saga. So someone trodded out the whole epic tale and like an old racehorse who harkens still to the trumpet, I acknowledged my part in the project.

“You must be worried today - what with all this drizzle and rain” the neophyte said, ever so cleverly. Hearing this retort for the 10 thousandth time a very strange thought occurred to me for the first time. Instead of rising to defend the strength and longevity of a mud structure, now 150 years old, I suddenly became aware of the egocentric selfishness of the remark. Here is a man in his twenties accusing a building 150 years old of lacking stability. The question as he framed it, and as 1000 before him thought to raise the matter, seems to assume that the building was constructed in 1981 - not resurfaced and renovated then. It suddenly dawned on me that a building 150 years old - older than virtually any other regularly occupied non-museum structure in the country – should no longer have to defend its stability. When do mere facts speak for themselves?

How absurd it is to ask how the building is weathering drizzle, rain, snow, wind storms, summer heat or winter cold – the question is adjusted seasonally – is pointed out when it is recalled that the house has weathered storms and calms for over 67,000 days and nights. What colossal idiocy to question its ability to weather a little drizzle. The house weathered storms of all kinds for 20 years without any maintenance or repairs before we bought it and with our resurfacing is now in as good shape as the day it was built. This building has withstood two hurricanes. Few people can say that!

No one thinks to ask the pyramids how they can withstand Sahara sand storms!

The fact that the mud house is admirably suited to withstand this climate is manifest – or should be – to anyone with eyes to see it standing there still.

Rather this question should be rightfully asked of the pressed board and dry plaster concoctions being built as homes in Penfield today.

Think about time. We see only the passing seconds and while that is a reality – it is certainly not all the reality – even the dominant reality of time.

This house has stood by while at least 4 barns, one stone smokehouse and at least 3 outhouses have come and gone within a stone’s throw. A wooden built summer kitchen has crumbled to the ground while this house stood on.

The blacksmith’s shop, town buildings of commercial Penfield, grain mills and gin mills have come and gone and all that remains in Penfield as old as the Mud House are a few stones in the graveyard (not even the wooden buildings which over the years housed the grave keepers), one mill, two taverns, and a few farmhouses. The vast majority of the structures of the Penfield of 1835 are long gone as indeed are all too many of the structures built since.

Andrew Johnson was president when the young family that built this house settled into it for about 12 years before passing on and out of all surviving historical records.

I suppose any alien thing is suspect and the questions about mud surviving the weather are inevitable and must ultimately be quietly endured by present and future owners alike, but surely the egocentric selfishness of such a question should be clear by now.

The preservation movement has made great strides over the past decades but we have yet to make people see themselves in time. That is, we have yet to find a way to make people see that buildings are living historians giving loud testimony on the nature of enduring life and enduring even our climate – if only we had the ears and eyes to hear and see their wisdom.