Rudy's story reminds me of my final year in architecture school. I was studying the idea of a memorial to Pruitt Igoe and was over-fascinated with ruined architecture. Being in the midwest I was surrounded by barns in various states of disrepair. I asked my mother why farmers let their buildings get so close to ruin without actually pushing them in. Although she was a thoughtful farm-raised woman, she ran to San Francisco as soon as she could take leave of her parentals. The city gal in her simply said "economics". She was willing, however, to ask the older farmers in our family and made a point of approaching them at a family wedding later that year. She gave me answers as varied as "don't have the time" to "I'm sure it's still good for something." Each day now I drive past a beautifully kept farmstead between my house and work. Although the house is boarded up, I have no doubt each of the outbuildings looks like it did 75 to 100 years ago when they were built. Sound roofs, bright red paint, and white trim. Right across the highway is a clay tile silo at a precarious angle. It has been that way for as long as my husband remembers. After each wind storm, I expect to see it in pieces, and every day I see it standing into the wind, I am reminded that each of those old farmers outlived my mother, and that their farmsteads--even though falling close to ruin--outlasted them. Thanks for another perspective, Rudy. bamh. -- To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to: <http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>