Moravians at the gate

Old Salem is an 18th century Moravian settlement a ten-minute walk from our house. Much like Colonial Williamsburg and the state of West Virginia, the streets and homes of historic Old Salem are populated by pilgrims in colonial garb. As you enter their world, the ersatz colonists call you “sister” and “brother” to make you feel like you are either back in the eighteenth century or in a Southern Baptist church. And unlike the Moravians of yore, these old-school interlopers get to go home at the end of the day and watch their satellite TVs and flush their toilets. Despite the fact that they had no toaster ovens or microwaves, the Moravians had a pretty good life.

On our tour, we watched a gunsmith work on a rifle that he said would take 125 man-hours to complete. I’ve never spent 125 hours on making anything (unless you count Susie Mandelbaum!) Not only did the gunsmith make the gun by hand, he made the tools that made the gun. “Yeah,” I asked him, “But did you make the tools that made the tools that made the gun?” Slacker! Living in a world of specialization, I image how wonderful it must have been to make something from start to finish, to see it come to life, to engrave your name into it, to use it to shoot a cow.

For all their faults, The Moravians lived life at a very human pace. As we walked through this advertisement for stress-relief, I could feel time slow down (maybe it was the taco I had for dinner). I breathed easily and drank in the pace of this beautiful place.

Errol is retarded, or as people say around here, “a little slow.” Most of us value speed, and when it comes to intelligence, slow is definitely bad. But I think, most of the time, slow is better than fast:

But when you think about it, which would you rather have?

Fast food: slow food
Fast conversation: slow conversation
Fast nap: slow nap

OK, stupid question.

Remember, at the finish line of life is death, so there’s really no rush. We could all use a little more slow in our lives, and Errol helps us quiet our frenetic days. After all, Errol doesn’t have a to do list, he doesn’t have goals to achieve each day, he doesn’t rush from task to task. He enjoys it when I hold him by his legs and run around the house chasing the dogs, “he, he, heh!!!!” He loves it when we take half an hour to eat applesauce. “he, he, heh!!!!” He loves it when we take a long slow bath, “he, he, heh!!!!” Errol enjoys where his is so much that he is in no rush to leave.

Apart from his wheelchair (had those Moravians never heard of handicapped ramps?) Errol fit right into the 18th century. We had a beautiful day at Old Salem, and if we are patient enough, Errol will help keep the best parts of the past and the present right here with us.