Excerpt
Always leave a place better than you found it. – Boy Scout Leaders
When I first heard this one at Boy Scout Camp in Northern Minnesota, I was astonished. In this context, the admonition seemed crazy on two counts. One: who was I to improve on the natural beauty of the great outdoors? Two: why should I work hard to make it easier for kids I would never even meet?
Now I realize the philosophy of leaving a place better than you found it has been responsible for our ability to experience many of the great natural wonders. Boy Scouts have improved trails. Explorer Scouts have improved neighborhoods. Inspired politicians have bequeathed to us a park system which, if we are vigilant and protective, will be enjoyed by our children, and their children for generations.
I attended three camps as a child. Each one seemed better than the last. Not just because of increasing maturity, but because each asked progressively more of me. This gave me new ways to grow and demonstrate new competencies. The first was a camp for rich kids. My father was a successful entertainer at this point, and could afford “the best”. “The best” turned out to be a very beautiful place: campers in cottages, dinner in the dining hall, with counselors entertaining their charges. When the resources of my parents diminished, I went to YMCA camp: tents on platforms, dinner in the mess hall, a real outdoors feel and a refreshing experience. The next year, an even less expensive experience was on tap. I went to Boy Scout camp: tents on the ground and dinners we cooked ourselves. My most memorable experience? We, the rank Tenderfoot (youngest) scouts, built a sturdy canoe rack from trees we felled. It was not done in time for our own use, but would be used by those who followed us. It is awesome to realize that my youthful labors could have been enjoyed by my own son had we not moved to a different section of the country.
Of course, not all “improvements” are made in virgin forests, and even teepees were examples of human “development.” Hiking paths allow people to enjoy nature without changing more than a tiny percentage of the lands they render accessible. The “Rails to Trails”1 organization has grown around the concept of converting unused rail beds to publicly accessible pathways. These new trails enable hikers and bikers to utilize these thin strips of already “developed” land that would otherwise be inaccessible or annexed to privately owned land.
It took years to develop an appreciation of my obligation to those who would follow me in time and space. My very existence requires that I utilize some resources that will then not be available to others. That is surely one reason to be concerned with one’s legacy. But there are others. Sometimes other people have enriched your life directly or indirectly in such a way that any meaningful tit-for-tat compensation is impossible. A generalized approach to doing good wherever possible is then the highest available form of recompense.
There is also a lower form of recompense, which is an obligation to anyone who hosts you in their home. You are on their turf; they have organized it as they wish it to be. If you turn on a light or appliance, turn it off. If you move an object that is in your way, put it back. This sounds like mere courtesy, but it is much more than that. If you walk away from changes you have made, you may waste resources and/or create a physical problem for your host. In the case of an elderly person who has difficulty even remembering the order that they created themselves, you may be creating a dangerous situation.
Keeping on the lookout to do things for others became a part of me in later years. When visiting my aging parents, talk would sometimes be labored. I had heard the old stories countless times, and we had some significant religious differences. Yet I loved them and wanted to be a positive part of their lives. I asked them to make a list of things that needed doing around their house. When I visited, I tackled the list. I always left them better off than before I came. Often the tasks needed strength they didn’t have. Sometimes they just needed an extra pair of hands or two. (My wife Florence was also an invaluable and loving help whenever we visited.) Not only was I able to help them, but I helped myself become a more giving, caring person.
I later generalized this idea. I use it when visiting older people or when staying over as a guest in the homes of friends. It is always more deeply appreciated than the gifting of yet another coffee mug. Making the world a better place for others also makes it a happier, more satisfying place for you.
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