In the 1980s we considered buying one of several available houses in a former resort community of pre-turn of the century homes. They were simple and hardly outfitted with modern electricity. There was one bare bulb hanging from the center of the room with a pull chain to turn it on and off; you could see the electrical conduit running over the plaster to reach it. No switches existed on the walls. You had a kitchen with space to eat, a parlor or living room, a couple bedrooms and a single bathroom. All were painted white or pale green, chipped and peeling underneath the newest coat.
The old home was not really neglected, just never remodeled as if it was content without outlets on every wall, appliances filling the kitchen and fancy fixtures in each room. It could provide light at night, a roof over your head and a place to cook and eat your food.
What an act of defiance to find the homes intact and present together, almost as if they had collaborated daring anyone to modernize, saying, “We have been here for almost a century and do not require changes to be viable; we need not take on the accessories of modernity to be worthy or useful.”
