I felt compelled to return to that mysterious Langhorne House in Lynchburg during my visit last week.
I was hoping to see signs of improvement, but instead found evidence of further weathering and decay.
I could proceed to chastise the present owners for neglect, but I empathize with them instead.
I know what it is like to inherit property with more deficits than assets.
It takes real money, time and effort to bring an old place up to present standards.
This house on the hill calls for restoration. It has a public history that seems to demand it. But where is the money?
The private owner must not be motivated to paint and renovate.
Not enough love, loyalty and funds? Bad memories? Family disputes? No matter! There must be a lack of motivation and/or inspiration.
The lights were on. That is a sign that the wires still work and heat is a possibility.
Two empty trailers were parked out back. At least someone is using the place.
It still feels lonely. It still seems empty. It is a sad remnant of a grand past.
Sometimes the weight of the past is too heavy to heave into the present.
I get that now. The haunting emptiness, the unpleasant memories, the emotional avoidance. Those burdens are real.
I hope that someday the Cary DeVall Langhorne house will be given new life and a face lift.
The historic neighborhood is quite lovely and well-maintained. There were busy workmen and scaffolding on almost every street.
What we do with our history is up to those in the present.
Maybe four years from now I will see a fresh coat of paint and repaired steps on this lovely, historic site.