Salvage
Today I am inspired and uplifted by the story of Safia Munye, who, upon discovering the burned-out shell of her Somali restaurant in Minneapolis, said, “Alhamdulillah,” which, in Arabic means Praise God.
“Everyone is safe,” she said.
She continued, “I know I can’t come back from this. But this can be replaced. George’s life cannot. George’s life was more important.”
Sometimes I find sticking to the topic of sustainability impossible in these times when bigger issues are afoot. But taking care of our families, our communities and the Earth we spend our lives upon is important too.
Given that admission, this column is about what we can salvage.
I wrote previously about thrift stores, reusing and the axiom, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”
Today, instead, I’m going to talk about what we can salvage—not just from the ashes of a burned-out business but from our homes and yards.
The family of Safia entered the restaurant, which she opened not two years ago with her retirement money, and found some items: a sign, a prayer mat, various knickknacks. They put them in a pile in the hopes that perhaps the restaurant will open again.
That is what salvage is about: the hope of the future. That an item can be given a second life.
I grew up with a boy named Jonathan Newsome. In the fifth grade, I discovered that he was far better than me when it came to drawing. I mean, the difference was like looking at fine art in a museum and a crudely drawn preschool stickman.
It was hard for me. I know it sounds strange, but I thought, if I worked hard enough, that I could be the best at anything. All of sudden, I looked at his art, and I thought, “No, that’s not going to happen here.”
Jonathan is talented, but he also works hard. After going to the Savannah College of Art & Design, he and his wife opened an antique store and a reclamation business.
Jonathan’s eye for art extended to his ability to see spectacular wood in a dilapidated old home or abandoned warehouse.
His work involves dismantling structures or recovering wood (sometimes even from under water!), removing any hazardous items (like nails), and then planing the wood into usable lumber.
When we first bought our home in Jasper County, which is one of the old Piedmont houses built in the 40’s, we rented it out. Unfortunately, one of the renters so completely destroyed portions of the home that we had to take out the heart pine floors in the living room and kitchen and have them replaced.
We wanted the home to keep its character, so we reached out to Jonathan, and he sold us and installed (he doesn’t do that anymore—his reclamation business has grown so much) incredibly beautiful flooring.
Through the years, we’ve reached out to Jonathan and his wife Natalie as our family has grown and as we’ve added projects. When we closed in a porch, he supplied the flooring material and planks that simulate a ceiling beam—the planks are rough sewn.
When we added another bedroom and bathroom (our family was growing!), we again reached out to Jonathan, and this time, we purchased flooring and boards for a desk, a shelf, a hand-made sink cabinet, and a cabinet in the bathroom.
When Safia Munye opens her restaurant again in Minneapolis, which, I truly believe she will, she will look upon the sign and the prayer mat and the knickknacks, and she will remember this time. When things can be replaced.
But people are precious. Their stories. Their work. The way they make us feel. They are irreplaceable. Unsalvageable.