The Philosophy of Preservation: Why We Restore What Time Almost Forgets

There are places we carry with us long before we ever hold the keys. Buildings we’ve never lived in, but somehow recognize. Doors we’ve never walked through, but feel drawn toward as if they’re waiting for us specifically. I’ve come to believe that some places choose us more than we choose them. And when they do, you feel the pull in your chest—a kind of quiet insistence that whispers, Don’t look away. There’s something here for you.

For me, that place is the Oddfellow Manor.

It doesn’t matter how many times I stand on the long porch or walk the halls of the old group home. It doesn’t matter if I’m sweeping out the basement dust or photographing the afternoon light spilling through cracked windowpanes. Every time I step inside, I feel the echo: This place is not done yet.

And maybe—just maybe—neither am I.

Restoration is never just about saving a building. It’s about stepping into a story still unfolding. It’s about honoring the people who came before us, holding space for the generations to come, and choosing to believe that what is cracked can be made whole again.

This is the philosophy at the heart of the Oddfellow Manor project.
This is why we restore what time almost forgets.

I. The Call of a Forgotten Place

We live in a culture obsessed with the new. New homes, new roads, new opportunities—new everything. But in the Appalachian mountains, newness has never been the center of our identity. Our pride has always run deeper than shingles and siding. We come from stories. We come from people who built more with less. We come from communities that remember their roots even after generations of storms.

Yet across West Virginia, across small towns like mine, history is quietly dissolving.

Old schools, lodges, factories, barns, homes—once vibrant pieces of our cultural anatomy—now sit worn and hollow, waiting for someone to care enough to lift them back into the light. These buildings are more than structures. They are the memory-keepers of who we once were.

When I stepped into the Oddfellow Manor for the first time, I felt that truth in my bones. Large staircases still strong beneath layers of dust. The scent of old timber and coal heat lingering in the walls. The way sunlight cuts through rooms like a reminder that time never fully wins.

Some would call it nostalgia. I call it invitation.

A building like this offers you a choice:
Leave it to collapse under the weight of time—or help carry it forward.

And once you hear that invitation clearly, it becomes very difficult to walk away.

II. The Weight of History, the Grace of Legacy

The Odd Fellows built their group homes with purpose. They believed communities had a responsibility—to each other, to the vulnerable, to those who needed a place to land when life went sideways. That philosophy shaped the early twentieth century in ways we rarely talk about today. Mutual aid. Shared responsibility. Brotherhood. Care.

This building was not designed as a monument. It was built as a promise.

A promise that no one should face hardship alone.
A promise that community matters.
A promise that care can be a shared endeavor.

More than a century later, that promise still hums beneath the floors. It’s there in the brickwork. It’s there in the small bedrooms that once held people finding footing in a world that was not always kind to them. It’s there in the orchard, the pond, the foundation stones hauled by hand.

When you inherit a place like this—even unintentionally—you inherit its promise.

And I can’t help but feel that continuing that promise is part of my duty now. Not because I’m special or uniquely equipped, but because I heard the call and I answered it. Sometimes that’s all stewardship really is: choosing not to turn away when something asks you to stay.

III. Hope Is a Form of Labor

Restoration is romantic. Until it isn’t.

There are days when it’s just me, a flashlight, and a mess of wires that haven’t been touched since the Truman administration. There are days of bank meetings, asbestos reports, and legal advice with lawyers and tax professionals. There are days when I stand in the basement and wonder how many years of work it will take to make this place safe, functional, beautiful, and alive again.

Hope, it turns out, is not passive.
Hope is a form of labor.

It’s waking up and deciding the long road is still worth traveling.
It’s insisting the building deserves a chance at a second century.
It’s believing that what was once a home for the vulnerable can become a haven for the community again.

And hope is not always glamorous. It’s driving to the property after a long clinic shift. It’s pulling weeds around the old pond. It’s cleaning out rooms one bag at a time. It’s walking through the woods and imagining where disc golfers might stand years from now. It’s learning new zoning language. It’s trusting that small steps matter even when the big steps are still out of reach.

Hope demands sweat.
Hope demands resolve.
Hope demands patience.

But the beautiful thing about hope is that the more you give it, the more it gives back.

IV. The Philosophy of “Enough to Begin”

One of the things I’ve learned as a physician, a father, and a perpetual project-starter is that perfection is the enemy of beginning. If you wait for the right moment, the right money, the right timeline, the right clarity… anything worth doing becomes something you’ll never do.

But the Manor has taught me something different:

You don’t need the whole plan.
You need enough of the plan to begin.

Enough clarity to take the next reasonable step.
Enough support to move one brick forward.
Enough faith to say, “I will start, and the rest will unfold.”

The deeper philosophy of preservation isn’t about certainty.
It’s about courage.

Courage to believe that restoration is possible.
Courage to believe the community will meet you halfway.
Courage to believe the next generation deserves a place with roots this deep.

Every time I walk into the Manor, I am reminded that all great things begin before anyone knows how they will end. The Odd Fellows didn’t build this place with guarantees. They built it because it mattered.

And that is enough for me to continue.

V. When a Building Holds a Mirror

It may sound strange, but restoring this place has been restoring something in me too. There’s a discipline in walking through old halls and seeing not just what is, but what could be. There’s a humility in acknowledging the cracks and choosing to work with them rather than hide them. There’s a deep, quiet reckoning in recognizing the ways we are all a little weathered, all a little faded, all a little in need of thoughtful care.

The Manor is not perfect. Neither am I.
But both of us deserve the chance to become what we were meant to be.

Some days I look at the broken floorboards and see my own burnout from years of medicine.
Some days I see the peeling paint and think about the layers of myself I’ve had to shed.
Some days I see the empty rooms and realize how much space I’ve made in my life to choose a different kind of future.

And then there are days when the building surprises me. A stubborn window finally opens. A section of plaster reveals gorgeous old wood beneath it. A forgotten light fixture catches the sun in a way that makes the whole room glow.

On those days, the Manor teaches me something:
Transformation comes slowly—but it comes.

If you tend to the broken places, if you believe in the worth of what’s here, if you give time and touch and attention, beauty finds its way back.

That’s not just restoration.
That’s redemption.

VI. A New Promise for a New Century

The Odd Fellows once promised to care for the vulnerable. To offer shelter and brotherhood. To give of themselves for the sake of others.

I want this next century of the Manor’s life to be a continuation of that promise.

But our world has changed. Our needs have changed. So the ways we serve must change too.

This is why the nonprofit exists.
This is why the property must eventually belong to the community.

The Manor has a chance to become something rare:
A living campus of education, restoration, creativity, nature, homesteading, and community-building—built on the bones of its original mission.

In the next decade, I imagine:

• Workshops on canning, gardening, composting, beekeeping, and regenerative agriculture.

• A community orchard and vineyard that teaches people to tend land with intention.

• Classes on sewing, woodworking, food preservation, herbalism, and the old arts that once sustained this region.

• Educational programs that tell the story of the Odd Fellows, the group home movement, and the history of Elkins.

• Spaces for small retreats, conversations, creativity, and reflection.

• A disc golf course winding through the woods for families, friends, and laughter.

• A place where people learn to build, grow, repair, create, remember, and belong.

A place where generations connect.
A place where the old skills are reborn.
A place where heritage shapes hope.

This is preservation with purpose.
Not nostalgia—investment.
Not sentiment—legacy.
Not a museum—an ecosystem.

The Manor will breathe again because people will breathe life into it.

VII. Restoration as Resistance

In a world that moves fast, pauses rarely, and forgets easily, choosing restoration is an act of resistance.

We resist the idea that old means useless.
We resist the belief that history should be demolished for convenience.
We resist the cultural amnesia that tells us the past has nothing to teach us.

To preserve a place is to say:

This matters.
These stories matter.
These bones of timber and brick matter.
What happened here matters.
What can happen here still matters.

Restoration is a rebellion against forgetting.

And if there’s one thing Appalachia understands on a deep, generational level, it’s the importance of remembering.

VIII. On Any Given Day, This Is What Hope Looks Like

People sometimes ask me, “How’s the Manor coming along?” And I never have a short answer. Because restoration is a thousand small victories wrapped in a thousand small challenges.

On any given day, hope looks like:

• Finding an intact banister that simply needs a sanding and a new coat of stain.

• Walking the orchard and noticing the first new apples.

• Hearing from a neighbor who wants to volunteer time, skills, or tools.

• Cleaning out one room fully and shutting the door knowing it’s ready for the next chapter.

• Completing a grant application even if it feels like tossing a bottle into a vast sea.

• Hearing laughter from family or friends exploring the grounds.

• Meeting with the bank, the lawyer, or the architects and realizing the project is slowly—steadily—moving forward.

Hope is not sweeping.
Hope is granular.

It’s the small bits that accumulate.
It’s the long game.
It’s trusting the slow burn of good work.

And good work is exactly what this is.

IX. What We Restore, Restores Us

People often think we restore buildings to preserve the past. And yes, that’s part of it. But what I’m learning is that we restore buildings to preserve ourselves too.

To remind us that patience is a virtue.
To teach us that beauty returns with gentle persistence.
To show us that even the most forgotten places can rise again.
To prove that community is built one conversation, one volunteer hour, one shared dream at a time.
To reconnect us with our heritage, our land, our values, our craft, and our responsibility.

When I walk into the Manor these days, I don’t just see what it used to be. I see what it’s becoming because of the hands and hearts that are joining this work.

And I see what I am becoming too:
someone who believes in showing up, even on the hard days;
someone who trusts the slow process of renewal;
someone who understands that legacy is built, not inherited.

Restoration is a teacher.
And I am here to learn.

X. A Final Thought: We Restore Because We Believe in Tomorrow

At its core, restoration is an act of faith.

Faith that what we build will matter to someone we may never meet.
Faith that our time and energy is creating something that will outlive us.
Faith that the future is worth gifting something beautiful.

When the Odd Fellows laid the foundation stones in 1908, they were not building for themselves. They were building for the next century. They were building for people they would never see, whose names they would never know.

Now, more than a hundred years later, we have the chance to honor that same courage and generosity. We get to build again—not because it is easy, but because it is good.

Because the community deserves places with deep roots.
Because our children deserve to inherit more than strip malls and empty lots.
Because the land deserves caretakers who remember its stories.
Because tomorrow deserves something beautiful.

This is why I restore.
This is why I believe in this place.
This is why the Manor is worth every ounce of effort.

Not because it’s perfect—
but because it still has more to give.

And so do we.

The Vision Manifesto of the Historic Oddfellow Manor of Elkins, West Virginia

When I sit back and dream of the future for the Manor, this is my dream.

Prologue: A Place Remembered

There are places that wait quietly for the right people to return.

The Oddfellow Manor is one of them. Built in 1908 as a home for orphans, it endured through decades of silence until new hands arrived — not only to repair it, but to listen to what it still had to teach.

We are those hands. Our work is not only to restore a building, but to reawaken its purpose — to remind this community that care, creativity, and connection still belong to all of us.

I. The Body of the Dream: Restoring What Heals

We believe that healing begins with connection — to one another, to the land, and to our shared history.

The Manor stands as a sanctuary for learning and renewal, where people of all ages can gather to rediscover practical wisdom: growing food, preserving harvests, mending clothes, working wood and metal, and tending animals and soil.

Here, we cultivate a kind of health that cannot be prescribed — the quiet strength that comes from purpose, craftsmanship, and community.

II. The Land of the Dream: The Living Classroom

The 15 wooded acres surrounding the Manor are our first and greatest teacher.

In the orchard, the vineyard, and the garden, we practice regeneration — of land, of tradition, of spirit.

We offer workshops and seasonal programs in homesteading, gardening, canning, sewing, and heritage crafts.

Children and elders learn side by side.

Every class, every gathering, becomes a small act of belonging — a way to remember that we are part of something larger than ourselves.

III. The Heart of the Dream: Community in Motion

We envision the Manor as a meeting ground for the curious and the compassionate.

Musicians, farmers, teachers, artists, and neighbors will share this space to create, collaborate, and celebrate.

Our doors are open for public events, seasonal markets, art shows, and storytelling nights that strengthen local connection and cultural memory.

We are here to make community visible again.

IV. The Home Within the Dream: A Place to Belong

Beyond gardens and gatherings, we hold a deeper calling — to make the Manor a place where people can live, not only visit.

Its history as a group home will be redeemed by a new vision of belonging: a place where elders, families, and those in need of safety can find both dignity and community.

In time, the Manor and its grounds will grow into a small, intergenerational village — with independent and assisted living spaces for older adults, short-term housing for women and children in transition, and volunteer residencies for artists, farmers, and caregivers.

Each space will be woven into the rhythm of the land and the life of the house — gardens outside every door, meals shared in common rooms, and stories exchanged across generations.

Our goal is not to build an institution, but a home — one that models what it means to live with purpose, connection, and care.

V. The Legacy of the Dream: Teaching by Example

Oddfellow Manor is more than a restoration project — it’s a living example of what rural resilience can look like.

By preserving a historic home and giving it modern purpose, we model how small towns can find renewal through creativity, sustainability, and shared stewardship.

Our goal is to seed a new pattern — where preservation, education, and community are not separate efforts, but parts of one living whole.

VI. The Promise: To Keep the Light Burning

We promise to honor this place with care and imagination.

To keep the light in its windows shining as a symbol of welcome.

To teach the next generation that history is not just behind us — it grows beside us, waiting for new hands to tend it.

When people stand here a hundred years from now, may they feel not just nostalgia, but gratitude — that we remembered to listen, to plant, and to build together.

Epilogue: The Invitation

Come walk the grounds.

Come learn, share, or rest awhile.

The Historic Oddfellow Manor of Elkins is not a museum — it is a living story of what happens when a community chooses to care again.

A New Way to Support the Oddfellow Manor

Every big dream begins with small, faithful steps — and today, we’re celebrating one of those steps for the Oddfellow Manor.

We’ve officially integrated Zeffy into our website as our fundraising platform! 🎉 What makes Zeffy so special is that it’s completely fee-free, meaning every single dollar you give goes directly toward bringing the Manor back to life. No hidden costs, no middlemen — just generosity flowing straight into this historic home and the community it will serve.

For us, this isn’t just about raising funds. It’s about opening the door for friends, neighbors, and folks near and far to become part of the Manor’s unfolding story. Every gift is a hand on the railing, a brick in the wall, a seed in the orchard — tangible help that moves us closer to preserving this beautiful old building and re-imagining it as a place for history, homesteading, and hands-on learning.

And we absolutely could not have gotten here without the steady guidance of Mike Bell, our nonprofit guru and cheerleader through all the legal twists and turns of setting up this dream. Mike, your wisdom and encouragement have been a lighthouse for us — thank you for walking with us every step of the way.

So, here’s the invitation: if you’d like to be part of this journey, check out our brand-new Zeffy page, linked right on our website. It’s simple, secure, and most importantly, every dollar you give goes directly to the work at hand.

Together, we’re writing the next chapter of the Oddfellow Manor. Thank you for believing in this vision and for helping us bring it to life.

Where History Meets Celebration: The Oddfellow Manor and the Mountain State Forest Festival

Elkins has always been a town where history is not just remembered, but lived. Walk its streets in autumn, when the hills are ablaze with color and parades wind through Randolph Avenue, and you can feel the layers of time pressing close—the industry that built it, the institutions that sustained it, the traditions that still gather people together. Two of the strongest threads in this fabric are the IOOF Group Home, standing watch since 1908, and the Mountain State Forest Festival, first celebrated in 1930. At first glance they may seem like separate stories—one a home of care and resilience, the other a celebration of pageantry and pride—but woven together, they tell a fuller tale of how Elkins has always balanced service, heritage, and community.

A Town in Its Prime

At the turn of the twentieth century, Elkins was buzzing. The shrill whistle of locomotives cut through the valley, carrying timber, coal, and passengers east and west. Sawmills along the Tygart Valley River thundered with life, the smell of fresh-cut spruce and hemlock thick in the air. Families walked brick-lined streets to markets, churches, and schools, proud of a town that had risen from wilderness in just a few short decades.

It was in this climate of growth that the Independent Order of Odd Fellows established their children’s home on the hill above town. Completed in 1908, the Odd Fellows Home was not just a shelter—it was a promise. At a time when state systems of care were limited, the Manor stood as a beacon of fraternity, education, and self-reliance. Its brick walls rose solid and sturdy, designed to last as long as the values it represented.

Life at the IOOF Group Home

For the children who lived there, life at the Manor was structured but purposeful. Mornings began early, with breakfast in the dining hall, followed by chores that kept the home and its grounds alive—tending the garden rows, milking cows, or gathering fruit from the orchard. The Odd Fellows believed in more than charity; they believed in equipping the next generation to live capably and independently.

Classrooms rang with the scratch of chalk and the murmur of recitation, while the fields outside offered lessons in patience and endurance. Evenings might end in song, stories, or the comfort of shared routines. Though the Manor was born of necessity, it carried with it the spirit of family—an understanding that in caring for each other, communities endure.

The Festival is Born

Two decades later, Elkins faced a very different season. The year was 1930, and the Great Depression had cast its long shadow across the nation. Factories closed, families tightened belts, and uncertainty settled into every household. Yet even in this hardship, Elkins looked to its forests—the vast expanses of hardwood and pine that had shaped its economy and culture—for inspiration and strength.

Out of that moment came the Mountain State Forest Festival. Conceived as both a celebration and a statement, the Festival sought to remind West Virginians of their greatest natural asset. It honored forestry not just as industry, but as heritage and as future. The crowning of Queen Silvia, the colorful parades, the forestry exhibits, and the gathering of bands and townsfolk all declared: we are still here, and we will endure.

For those who walked the streets that first autumn, the Festival must have felt like a bright defiance—an act of joy and unity in the midst of difficulty. The hillsides were already brilliant with color; now the town itself matched them in vibrancy.

Parallel Histories

While the first queens processed through downtown and schoolchildren waved flags in parades, life at the Manor went quietly on. Supper was served in the dining hall, homework spread across desks, and the same orchards were tended as they had been for decades. Yet it is easy to imagine a child at the Manor standing on the hillside, hearing the distant music of the Festival drifting upward, or seeing the torchlight of evening parades from afar.

In this way, the Manor was a silent witness to the Festival’s rise. Both institutions, in their own fashion, were rooted in the same soil of Randolph County. The Festival drew crowds into the streets to celebrate forestry and tradition; the Manor instilled in its young residents the values of labor, resilience, and community that made such celebrations possible. One was vibrant and public, the other quiet and steady—but together they reflect the heart of Elkins.

Carrying Legacy Forward

Today, nearly a century later, the Mountain State Forest Festival is one of West Virginia’s oldest and most beloved traditions. Each Fall, marching bands, dancers, craftspeople, and foresters converge in Elkins, filling the air with music, laughter, and pride. The coronation of Queen Silvia remains a centerpiece, tying new generations to a tradition first begun in hardship but carried forward with joy.

And on the hill, the Oddfellow Manor is stirring with life once more. Its mission today echoes its original purpose: to be a place of care, education, and self-sufficiency. Plans for gardens, orchards, workshops, and community gatherings are not so different from what the Odd Fellows first envisioned over a century ago. In this way, the Manor and the Festival continue to speak the same language—celebrating land, heritage, and the strength of community.

A Shared Story of Resilience

Taken together, the histories of the Oddfellow Manor and the Mountain State Forest Festival remind us that Elkins has always known how to balance work with joy, care with celebration, memory with hope. The Manor’s brick walls testify to decades of service and shelter; the Festival’s pageantry testifies to decades of pride and endurance. Both are legacies worth preserving, not only for what they were, but for what they continue to inspire.

As autumn settles once again on the mountains, we see the truth clearly: heritage is not simply something handed down—it is something lived, nurtured, and celebrated. In the Manor and in the Festival, Elkins holds both halves of that truth, and together they continue to shape the story of our town.

Weathering the Storms of Change — A 2025 Community Update from Oddfellow Manor

Elkins is changing. So is the country. Here’s what that means for our home, our neighbors, and our vision for the Oddfellow Manor.

What’s shifting in D.C.—and why it matters here

Washington has always felt a little far away, but its decisions ripple into small towns like ours whether we’re ready or not. This year, preservation budgets were trimmed in the latest compromise bill. That might sound like a minor adjustment in a spreadsheet, but for a community trying to save a 1908 group home, it’s real. It means fewer dollars for restoration projects, more competition for the same pool of grants, and a greater need for us to show why Oddfellow Manor matters—not just as a building, but as a place of community, education, and history.

Energy is another piece of the puzzle. The federal government is pushing grid operators to plan 20 years ahead. That’s an important shift, especially as more people plug in EVs, data centers pop up, and communities push to power homes with renewable energy. But while the vision looks clear, the road is uneven. Solar panels are more expensive with tariffs reinstated. Transformers, the unsung heroes of our grid, are in short supply. These things trickle down: timelines stretch, budgets wobble, and small projects like our rooftop solar array have to plan carefully and patiently.

And then there’s healthcare. For many of my patients, the new Medicare cap of $2,000 a year on prescription costs is a lifeline. I’ve already had folks in clinic breathe easier knowing they won’t face bills that climb into the stratosphere. Telehealth continues for now, letting patients check in without the long drive. But if ACA subsidies expire at the end of 2025, that relief could vanish for some families. All of this shows how D.C. debates aren’t abstract—they land right in the exam room with us.

Sources: CRS Appropriations Report 2025; FERC Orders 1920/1920-A; Medicare & You 2025; Kaiser Family Foundation (ACA subsidies overview)

Renewable energy: the ups and downs

When you stand out at the Manor and feel the breeze along the pond, it’s easy to imagine a future where our power is clean, local, and steady. That future is closer than it used to be, but the path there feels like taking two steps forward and one step back. On the plus side, PJM—the regional grid operator—has finally started clearing its backlog of solar and storage projects. That’s not just a bureaucratic win; it means the energy mix in our region is becoming more realistic and resilient.

But challenges remain. Transformers, the gray metal boxes you rarely notice until they fail, are harder to get than ever. Solar panels, once flowing in from overseas at low cost, now face tariffs again, which adds pressure to budgets. For us, that means if we want to keep building toward renewable projects on the property, we have to design with options. We can’t assume one vendor, one supply chain, or one timeline will hold steady. Flexibility and patience will be our allies.

Sources: NERC 2025 Summer Reliability Assessment; DOE Transformer Efficiency Rule; PJM Interconnection Queue Update 2025

Preservation funding: tighter belts, smarter planning

Preservation has never been a fast process, but with fewer federal dollars in circulation, we need to think even more strategically. Programs like Save America’s Treasures are still there, but they’ve become even more competitive. For Oddfellow Manor, this means a few things. First, we have to prioritize safety—like asbestos remediation—before we can dream about restored woodwork or new community spaces. Second, we need to link our preservation goals with broader community needs. If the Manor can also be a site for job training, or a place that supports local health and education, then it’s more than history—it’s a solution worth funding. And finally, we have to stay organized. Having clean documents, clear scopes, and match pledges ready at a moment’s notice will make the difference.

Sources: National Park Service Historic Preservation Fund 2025; Save America’s Treasures grant guidelines

Healthcare in Elkins: more options coming

Drive out along Randolph Avenue and you’ll see the new big, beautiful building—the WVU/UHC Corridor facility that’s scheduled to open in September. At 38,000 square feet and $37 million in investment, it’s no small clinic. It will bring urgent care, family medicine, cardiology, imaging, labs, and more. For families in Elkins, it means choices: same‑day care, fewer long drives for specialists, and expanded after-hours options.

Meanwhile, Davis Medical Center—our long-standing hub—hasn’t slowed down. Now part of Vandalia Health, DMC has been adding new technologies and expanding services. From ER wait-time transparency to more specialty rotations, it’s trying to stay ahead in a competitive landscape. For patients, this is a win. For our community, it’s also a challenge: we need to think about how to house, feed, and welcome the nurses, techs, and doctors who will keep these facilities humming. Healthcare access is expanding, but so must the community that supports it.

Sources: WVU/UHC Corridor H Facility Press Release 2025; Vandalia Health Updates 2025

Elkins by the numbers

Numbers can sometimes feel dry, but they tell a story about where we’re heading. Right now, West Virginia’s unemployment rate is around 3.7%, and here in Randolph County it’s closer to 4.9%. That’s historically low for us, but beneath the surface the story is about change. Older residents are re-entering the workforce, while new industries are shifting the job mix. Skilled trades, healthcare, and education are in demand. If you’ve tried to find a contractor or book a specialty appointment lately, you know what I mean.

On cost of living, Elkins still looks affordable compared to the national average. A single adult needs about $18.46 an hour to cover basic expenses, while a family with two working adults and two kids needs closer to $23.19 per adult. Housing and transportation take the biggest bites. And housing? That’s the pressure point. The median sale price in Elkins is hovering around $244,000, with typical home values near $172,000 for what’s available. For first‑time buyers, the competition is fierce and the inventory is slim.

Schools round out the picture. Since 2022, Randolph County has made steady gains in reading and math, though middle school math remains a stubborn challenge. Progress is happening, but it takes time, resources, and community buy‑in. The good news is that more tutoring programs, stronger community partnerships, and a focus on teacher retention are starting to move the needle. We’re all hopeful that the Randolph County BOE can help drive positive change.

Sources: U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics 2025; MIT Living Wage Calculator (Feb 2025 update); Zillow Housing Market Data 2025; Education Recovery Scorecard 2025

Oddfellow Manor updates

So where are we in all of this? Oddfellow Manor continues to push forward. We’ve officially secured nonprofit status, which gives us a foundation to raise funds and partner with others in meaningful ways. We’re still working toward the National Register of Historic Places, a long but important process that will help preserve the Manor’s story for generations to come.

The most pressing piece right now is asbestos remediation. Working with the Brownfields and the Greenbrier Environmental Group, we’re taking this on in careful phases. It isn’t glamorous, but it’s essential. Once the hazards are addressed, we can start looking ahead to stabilization and restoration with clearer eyes.

Beyond bricks and beams, we’re imagining how the Manor can serve Elkins today. Small event spaces, heritage interpretation, skills workshops, maybe even health‑adjacent programming that complements the town’s growing medical landscape—all of these ideas are on the table. The Manor was once a self‑sufficient home for many. Our hope is to honor that legacy by creating a place that teaches, heals, and connects once again.

Weathering the storms together

The storms of change—whether political, economic, or personal—can feel daunting. But we’re not powerless. Here’s how we see the path forward:

1. Plan for volatility. Always assume that prices, supply chains, or policies could shift. Build cushion into every plan.

2. Tie preservation to people. Every project should meet a human need—jobs, skills, health, or community. That’s how history stays alive.

3. Stay transparent. Share the journey so neighbors, donors, and trades can step in when and where it makes sense.

Oddfellow Manor is more than a building. It’s a living project. It’s a reminder that we can carry history forward not by sealing it in glass, but by using it to serve today’s needs. Remember that this project will never be rushed or forced. We will take our time and do this right. Thanks for walking with us as we weather these storms and build a future together.

If you’d like to dig deeper, check out the sources listed throughout this post. And if you want to volunteer, contribute, or help us match a grant, reach out—we’d love to have you on this journey.

The Hands That Build: Community at the Heart of Oddfellow Manor

When you stand in front of the Oddfellow Manor, it’s impossible not to feel the weight of its history. The bricks are weathered, the windows a little tired, and the grounds carry the quiet stillness of a place that has been waiting, for years, for its people to return.

But what’s most remarkable isn’t what the building has been. It’s what it can become again.

The Manor was once a place of deep fellowship and self-sufficiency. In its earliest days, the Independent Order of Odd Fellows built it not just as a home, but as a living, breathing community. They planted orchards, tended gardens, and raised their own food. They worked side by side, bound together by a belief that neighbors could, and should, take care of one another.

And that is exactly what we are working to bring back to life.

Rooted in History, Growing Toward Tomorrow

The Odd Fellows built this property with an unshakable sense of purpose: no one should stand alone. They created a home where work, learning, and shared effort intertwined. There was beauty in its practicality; rows of fruit trees heavy with apples and pears, vegetable gardens that fed the whole community, and a landscape shaped by hands that knew how to provide for one another.

When we first stepped onto this property, we could feel that history humming under the surface. It wasn’t just a building; it was an invitation to pick up where they left off.

Our vision for the Manor isn’t simply to preserve its past, it’s to live it forward. We see orchards blooming again, berry rows lining the fence line, gardens alive with vegetables and flowers, and neighbors learning the old skills that once anchored this place: canning, blacksmithing, sewing, and working the land together.

A Gift of Grapevines

One of the first signs of life returning to the Manor came in the form of an unexpected gift.

Dr. Chua, a friend and supporter, arrived with a set of grapevines, plants with a story as rich as the soil they now call home. Their roots trace back to wild and wonderful West Virginia grapes, tamed, nurtured, and tended for decades on the family farm. When he placed them in our hands, he wasn’t just giving us plants. He was passing on history, tradition, and trust.

Today, those vines are in the ground, their roots settling into the Manor’s soil. They are a reminder that every step forward in this project is planted by the generosity of others, by neighbors and friends who believe in what this place can become.

Building More Than a Project

Oddfellow Manor isn’t just about restoring walls and rafters. It’s about building community.

This is why we’re creating spaces not only for work but also for play and rest. Among the most exciting plans is the addition of a disc golf course on the Manor’s wooded 15 acres. And within that, the quiet curve of our pond invites a slower kind of fellowship.

A gazebo overlooks the water; a place for neighbors to gather, fish, share a picnic, or simply sit and watch the world go still for a while. Because we believe that joy is as important as labor. We want this property to be a place where people come not only to volunteer but also to breathe, to connect, and to feel at home.

When you create places where people want to be, you also create places where community takes root.

The Road Ahead

As we look to the future, we see the Manor becoming more than just a historic landmark. We see:

• Orchards and berry rows providing food for neighbors and teaching the next generation how to grow what they eat.

• Gardens in full bloom, offering beauty, nourishment, and a reminder of the rewards of patient work.

• A forge and workshops, where old-world skills like blacksmithing, woodworking, and sewing are passed on to curious hands.

• Volunteer days, where laughter and the sound of tools mingle in the air as neighbors restore the Manor side by side.

• A pond and gazebo, where families can fish, friends can meet, and the simple beauty of the land can be enjoyed.

• Quiet corners for reflection and play, from the disc golf course to the flower gardens, where the property becomes a living sanctuary for connection.

• A place to call home, a residential living space as not only assisted living, but a safe place for at-risk women and children, minimalist apartments for seniors and traveling professionals, and business space for the services to help keep our community happy and healthy.

This is the future we are planting together.

How You Can Help

Every step we take at the Manor is powered by community. You don’t have to be a builder or a farmer to be part of this story. You can:

• Volunteer your time—whether for planting, clearing trails, or simply lending a hand where it’s needed most.

• Donate, knowing that every dollar is rooted directly into the soil of this project, helping us restore the Manor piece by piece.

• Share the story—because every time someone hears about Oddfellow Manor, another thread of community is woven into this tapestry.

• Come visit—walk the land, throw a disc, fish by the pond, or simply sit a while. Let this place remind you that history isn’t just preserved; it’s lived.

A Living Invitation

The Oddfellow Manor is waking up.

You can feel it in the hum of work already begun: grapevines stretching toward the sun, berries lining the fence, and neighbors stepping forward to lend their hands. This is no longer just a dream. It’s happening, slowly, steadily, and beautifully.

But the truth is, this was never meant to be our project alone. It’s meant to be ours; yours, mine, and everyone who believes in the quiet power of building something lasting together.

So come. Bring your hands, your stories, or simply your presence. Help us turn this old Manor into a place where community doesn’t just visit. It lives here.

Because in the end, the Oddfellow Manor isn’t really about the building at all.

It’s about the hands that build it.

A New Chapter Begins: The Manor Is Now a 501(c)(3) Nonprofit

Sometimes a dream lives quietly for a long time before it finds its voice. Sometimes a building waits over a century to become what it was always meant to be.

Today, we’re proud, and deeply grateful, to announce that The Historic Oddfellow Manor of Elkins WV is now an official 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization.

This may look like a legal milestone. And it is.

But it’s also a threshold , the moment when a restoration project becomes a movement. When crumbling porches and peeling plaster give way to classrooms, gardens, and a place where people come not only to learn but to belong.

A Home with History

Built in 1908, the Oddfellow Manor began its life as a group home for children under the care of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows, a mutual aid society rooted in values like compassion, fraternity, and service.

It was a place where orphans found shelter. Where meals were shared, chores were taught, and the rhythms of life moved in harmony with the hills of West Virginia.

And then, like many such places, it fell into disuse. Left to weather time, nature, and minimal care. But some houses, like some people, hold on.

When we first stepped inside, we didn’t just see the wear. We saw the bones of something beautiful. Strong wood. Ornate trim. A fireplace that once held stories. A front porch that watched generations come and go.

We knew it could be more than a memory. It could be a home again, this time, not just for children, but for ideas. For skills. For soil and stories. For a community.

Our Mission: Three Pillars, One Purpose

This nonprofit isn’t just about preserving the past. It’s about planting for the future. Our work centers on three core pillars:

1. Historic Preservation & Education

We honor the legacy of the Odd Fellows home by restoring its original beauty and opening its doors for tours, exhibits, and storytelling. The building itself is a teacher, a reminder of resilience and care.

2. Regenerative Agriculture & Permaculture

We are cultivating gardens, orchards, and pastures designed to heal the land, and teach others how to do the same. From seed-saving to animal husbandry, our land will become a learning lab for ecological stewardship.

3. Homesteading & Traditional Skills

Workshops will include food preservation, blacksmithing, herbal medicine, sewing, woodworking, fiber arts, and more. These are not lost arts, they are living tools, waiting to be passed on.

Together, these threads weave a single purpose: to reconnect people to place, to each other, and to the skills that sustain us.

What 501(c)(3) Status Means

Becoming a 501(c)(3) nonprofit means:

• Your donations are now fully tax-deductible

• We can apply for grant funding from historic, agricultural, and educational foundations

• We gain credibility and accountability as a public benefit organization

• We’re eligible for nonprofit discounts from software, services, and platforms

• Most importantly: it signals that this project belongs to the community, not to a single person or family

This designation isn’t about formality. It’s about trust. It’s about declaring that this dream is real, sustainable, and rooted in something bigger than ourselves.

What Comes Next

We’re just getting started.

In the months ahead, we’ll begin:

• Launching our first fundraising campaign to support restoration and program development

• Applying for grants to help rebuild with integrity and purpose

• Creating volunteer opportunities for hands-on community engagement

• Building out partnerships with local schools, farmers, and craftspeople

• Opening parts of the property for small-scale workshops, tours, and storytelling events

The porch will once again hold laughter. The gardens will bloom. The upstairs will echo with the sound of shared learning.

How You Can Be Part of the Story

We’re inviting you, friends, neighbors, strangers who believe in meaningful things, to walk with us.

Here’s how:

• Make a Donation — every dollar goes directly toward restoration and education

• Join Our Mailing List — get behind-the-scenes updates, event invites, and early access

• Volunteer or Share a Skill — we’re building with hands and hearts

• Spread the Word — tell a friend, share our story, invite others to dream with us

This is not a fast project. It’s a slow, thoughtful, generational one, the kind that builds deep roots and wide branches. And that kind of growth always needs community.

Closing Words

As we cross this threshold into nonprofit life, we do so with reverence, for the past that shaped us, the land that holds us, and the people like you who help carry this vision forward.

Thank you for believing in what we’re building.

Welcome to the Manor.

—
The Historic Oddfellow Manor of Elkins WV
EIN: [33-4341893]
“Preserving the past. Growing the future.”

Be the light

Some days, it feels like the big wins are just out of reach.

The funding that once seemed promising now hangs in question. The message inboxes are quieter. The timelines blur. The restoration, like so much in life, asks more patience than expected.

But even in uncertainty, we keep working.

Lately, I’ve found myself drawn to the flower beds. They’re not part of any grant proposal. No one’s taking photos (except me!). But they matter. I’ve been pulling weeds, loosening old soil, and planting color where there used to be only dust and overgrowth. A few blooms. A little beauty. Something anyone walking or driving by can see and feel.

It’s a simple act—but it’s deliberate. And in some ways, it’s the heart of this entire project.

To restore something old takes more than tools — It takes care.

And care begins in the small things—digging in the dirt, clearing out all the old furniture, cleaning up dusty hallways, showing up even when the paperwork feels endless and the path uncertain.

We're still working behind the scenes to establish our nonprofit status. It's not glamorous work, but it’s necessary. And we’ve started the process of building a board—a team of individuals who believe in what this place can become: a space for community, history, and hands-on learning. A home for heritage and hope.

Even though we haven’t yet secured historic preservation funding, and even though some of that support is now uncertain, we continue. This work isn’t driven by budget approvals—it’s driven by belief.

There will always be setbacks. Delays. Doubts.

But this manor has stood here since 1908. And I believe it still has something to give.

So we move forward. One flower bed. One conversation. One cleaned room at a time.

If you’ve passed by lately, maybe you’ve seen the first glimpses—sunlight on the petals, vines cut back, stones unearthed, fountain heads discovered. Maybe it caught you off guard, or maybe you didn’t notice at all. That’s okay. This isn’t about drawing attention. It’s about presence. And presence is its own kind of progress.

We don’t know how long it will take.

But we’ll keep showing up, no matter how long it does.

That’s what it means to be the light.

Listening

It took me a little time, but I eventually developed a better sense of listening to the world around me. It may sound odd, but every time a turn comes in the road of life, I stop to listen.

If you didn’t know, I was a teacher when I first graduated college. I was wondering what to do when I finished school. I had applied to graduate programs for Medical Physics. I was turned down at every program I submitted an application to. I stopped. I listened. A small school back home needed a math teacher. I applied and got the job. My first big kid job was a math and science teacher at Bishop Walsh School in Cumberland, MD. I loved teaching. I did not love the environment. I stopped to listen.

My heart told me to go back to school and try something different. So I did. All that math, physics, and chemistry was fun, but what about biology? Let’s try that. So I did. And I loved every minute of it. I thought to myself, “what the heck do you do with a biology degree?” As I listened, I heard other students talking about applying to medical school. So I started volunteering. Then I sat for my MCAT. Then I applied to medical schools.

As a typical pre-med student, I had my list of schools I wanted to go to. I had my interviews lined up. My first interview on the trail was at WVU SOM in Morgantown. I went to that interview and absolutely felt at home. After, as I was driving back to Baltimore, I called my parents and told them that if I didn’t get into WVU SOM, then I wasn’t meant to go to medical school. I wrote emails and canceled the remainder of my interviews. Shortly after, I got my letter of acceptance to WVU SOM.

During medical school, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I had thoughts of going into Oncology because of my personal history. As I went through my third year rotations, I found that I loved every rotation I was on. I couldn’t imagine removing any of the services I was exposed to. Then I found Family Medicine. It was my perfect fit. When I stopped to listen, one of my attending physicians told me about their rural health program that allowed early placement into the residency program outside of the typical match. I applied and got my spot.

Fast forward a few years. I’m a second year resident doing rural rotations in Buckhannon, WV, with Dr. Gregory Peters at Community Care. We were going back and forth between his offices in Buckhannon and Rock Cave. One day, his schedule was particularly light. He looked at me and said, “Garrett, it’s a beautiful day and you should go do something fun.” So I said thanks and stepped out of the office. When I stopped to listen, my heart told me to explore. So instead of driving back up 79 to Morgantown, I headed East on 33 towards Elkins.

As I drove through Elkins the first time, it just caught me. It’s hard to explain the exact feeling, but it felt right. I continued my drive towards Harman and up to Canaan. As my cell phone reception came back in, I made my first call. My mom. I said, “Mom, I found out where I want to live.” Then I made my second call. My wife. I said, “hon(yeah Bawlmer!), I need to start applying for jobs in the Elkins area, I think we’re supposed to live there.” So that’s exactly what I did.

Interestingly, DM wasn’t hiring at the time. Or at least they weren’t advertising for any spots. I submitted applications to Stonewall, Minnie Hamilton, and Webster Springs. I got a few job offers, but none of them felt right. When I stopped to listen, I had the notion that perhaps I’d just write an email to the recruiter at DM and see if they’d be interested. The recruiter returned my email immediately and said that they would love to have me down. Interestingly, this was only February, and the suggestion was to come down some time in the late spring or early summer when the weather was better. I countered that I’d love to see it as soon as they were ready to have me. So we went down for an interview in the cold, snowy chill of February. Shortly after, I got my job offer. I stopped to listen, but knew it was right.

As you can tell, when I stop to listen, I’m listening to my heart, to the winds, to whatever heavenly body you believe in. Even since coming to Elkins, I’ve stopped to listen. It helps when I need to make the right decision.

Last summer, an ad popped up on my Facebook feed. It said, “Own a piece of history! Come bid on the IOOF Group Home!” I did a little research and looked at all the photos. To be honest, I didn’t anticipate that I’d even win the bid. I talked about it with my wife. I half mentioned it to my friends at work. I’m not even confident I actually asked my parents about it. However, when I stopped to listen the night before I physically placed my bid, I felt compelled and knew exactly how much to bid. Even after, I rarely checked the site to see how my bid was doing. I had the thought that I probably wouldn’t get it, but deep down, I was hoping.

Then the day hit and I got the call. My prior post said it all. After that call and before I got dressed to go sign papers, I stopped to listen. I chuckled. I had been talking about my dream care home for almost a decade at that point. I kept telling myself and the people closest to me, that I’d get to it someday. Eventually. Well God decided to give me the gut check. I listened. I said yes.

Now is the time for action, so that’s what I’m doing. Granted, we may have a few hiccups along the way. Political influences aside, I may have some funding and I may not. My primary goal is to take this one day at a time. I continue to listen. The answers will come. The funding will come. The project will progress.

I have faith that what we’re doing is going to make an amazing impact on our community. It will set the stage for elder care and the integration of self sufficiency and education with the community. The only limitation we have is our imagination.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. It’s just the beginning.

So for today, if you’re questioning something in your life, stop, and listen.

What’s next?

So the yard sale is complete and it was a hit! Many thanks to all those who came out to support and those who supported from afar. All proceeds have been added to the fund to help with renovations and costs associated with planning for the future.

Our next big steps will be obtaining historic status and getting our nonprofit status.

From the historic perspective, the property was evaluated and an application was started (perhaps 2-3 times before now) but nobody completed the application. We are restarting that application process. Cody Straley at the WV State Historic Preservation Office has assisted with the initial information we needed to get the ball rolling. With the help of the WV Brownfields and Preservation Alliance, we have hired a historian. Kelsey Hartmann of Hartmann Preservation Services LLC is our official historian working on the application and digging through all the history behind the original IOOF Group Home. If you’d like to check out more about her, click here. Once we get our historic status, then we can really start getting a plan in action for all our renovations.

From the nonprofit status, we are working closely with Mike Bell. He owns Mike Bell and Associates LLC and has years of experience not only with nonprofit groups but also fundraising, leadership, marketing, public relations, and strategic planning. If you’d like to find out more, click here. Once we get our nonprofit status, we begin work forming our board of directors and fine tuning the long term goals of the property. Our nonprofit status will also open the doors for anyone to make tax deductible contributions.

I’ve already written about the long term vision, but many people have come forward with more ideas to consider. Potentially adding open spaces for businesses to rent. Consideration for integration of a charter school, facilitating interaction with pediatrics and geriatrics, all learning topics of self preservation, land development, manual skills, healthcare, and so much more. Securing a safe space for women and children in the community. Establishing a home for people with disabilities. There are many ideas floating around and I love to hear them all, so keep them coming!

I am immensely grateful to everyone who has reached out to me. There has been an outpouring of support for the project and it fills me with hope for the future. This is a very large undertaking and it will take a village to make it happen. I am so happy you’ve decided to join me on this journey.

Let’s see where the future takes us.

Coming up with a plan

So I get a lot of people asking, “What are you gonna do with that place? How long will it take? How much is it going to cost you?” Let’s dive into those questions.

First, this is a long term project. We are talking 10+ years, realistically speaking. I’m still working through all the details and finding all the right people. I’ve found some amazing people so far, so I know that we can accomplish our goals. It’s just gonna take some time.

Second, this stands a strong chance of being pretty expensive. I’m just a rural family doc in West by God Virginia, so it’s not like I’m sitting on a small family fortune to fund this. So far, I’m footing a mortgage payment for the property and when we need cash to get stuff done, I just take whatever extra I’ve saved up and make an investment in the future. Through some of the contacts I’ve made thus far, we are finding help for certain aspects of the project. I anticipate that I’ll keep making new friends and reaching out to groups to find the support we need to keep moving forward. As this project will take a full renovation of the property and then finding the right people to work with me, I anticipate the financial need to be in the tens of millions. I plan to apply for grants. I plan to take out business loans. I plan to find appropriately minded financial sponsors. We are already in the process of setting up a 501(c)(3), so you’ll be able to help out soon, too!

For the meat of this post, what the heck am I going to do? I’m going to do what I’ve been doing all along, dream.

When I was in residency at WVU SOM/WVUH in Morgantown, we helped take care of the residents at Sundale Nursing Home. It was an amazing experience for me. Granted, the o’dark thirty pages with normal lab values and simple coughs weren’t always the most pleasant, but the residents opened my mind to the future of elder care. I dreamt of nursing homes with open floor plans and green space. I dreamt of raising food and actively involving residents with digging in the dirt and eating fresh veggies straight out of the garden. I envisioned having animals on property and the smiles that chicks, ducklings, piglets, and calves bring. My dream for a better model of elder care was born.

Fast forward to 2024, and an opportunity presented itself. To be honest, I really didn’t imagine I’d win the bid. If you read my prior story, you know that it was a bit of an “oh sh!t” moment for me. However, I took the message that it was time for me to act on my dreams.

Step 1: find a location. We got that! Big home, 3 stories, 50,000+ sq ft of usable space, 15 acres of woods and a pond. The Odd Fellows still own some of the other property around the site and I’m hopeful they will help build this dream with me. There’s an additional 15 acre farm down in the flood plain, there’s a 2.5 acre orchard, there’s a 1 acre vineyard, and there’s the ~8 acre property across the street with the barn and caretaker’s house. The Randolph County Development Commission owns the 90+ acres of farmland across the street, so perhaps they’ll be nice in the future, too…. wink wink.

Step 2: establish historic status. We’re working on that! I have a wonderful team of folks who have pointed me in the right direction and now I have a Preservationist Consultant on my side. I’m not sure how long it will take, but historic status will open a ton of doors for opportunity. This will also help with establishing a reputable historic architect to come up with the details of the long term renovation. I already have a lead on that, stay tuned.

Step 3: establish a nonprofit organization. Also another thing we’re working on! Mike Bell & Associates has been hired to help us through the process. Some initial paperwork has been filed. We are building the board of directors. Once we have our nonprofit status, more doors will be opened for opportunity.

Step 4: environmental cleanup. As with all old buildings, there’s going to be unsavory things found on site. Our biggest one is asbestos. We’ve already contacted the WV DEP and have some contractors lined up. We’re getting estimates on costs. It’s not ridiculous, but it also isn’t cheap. We’re working with the Brownfields Group to help align a better plan to get this accomplished. Stay tuned!

Step 5: the start of true renovation. Once we get a full architectural plan and break out all the fine details, then we can start acting on those details. Much of the inside is quite old, so there will be a lot of demolition work as we remove the old plaster and lath. We will be doing our best to reclaim as much of the original woodwork and tin in the building, so we can maintain the original look. The entire home will need to be rewired for electric and internet, new plumbing, sprinkler systems, etc. We will likely need to invest in a new elevator. Since the home is over 100 years old, we’re going to apply for REAP grants to help with windows, insulation, and anything else to assist with energy efficiency. To add to that, we can also think about other efficiency items and renewable energy, like geothermal heating and cooling, solar power generation, wind turbine power generation, etc. The overarching theme is to maintain its original character while bringing it up to current standards and prepare for the future. This will be the lengthiest and costliest part of the whole project.

Step 6: the start of our first residents. I’m anticipating independent living and assisted living. The rigors of a true nursing home status are a bit more that what I believe the property can manage. I’m leaving the option open, but I’m going to stick with something that I know will work. The goal is to have a mixed living situation that allows everyone a safe and happy environment, while offering all the amenities of a modern homestead. We also plan to house as much of their medical care in house that we can, from counseling, physical therapy, occupational therapy, respiratory therapy, speech therapy, massage therapy, case management, etc. With a farm/garden on property, we will also be looking into botanicals, herbals, and other natural remedies. This will be when we start looking to the community to hire staff and find the right individuals to join the team. We’ll be looking for people with a variety of skills because this isn’t just elder care, it’s cooking and canning food, it’s gardening, it’s taking care of animals, it’s so much more.

Step 7: doesn’t have to wait, it’s the start of our farm. Granted, we have to get the farm grounds, the orchard, the vineyard, and hopefully the barn, but we can start as soon as the land is available. This is where we start prepping our land for growing the food we will need. I imagine a mix of rotating pastures for grazing animals, greenhouses, fruit trees, berry bushes, raised beds, flowers, and a plethora of other things. If we start before there are residents, we can feed our community through community supported agriculture and farmer’s markets. We can experiment with growing practices: no till growing, regenerative agriculture, etc. We can build an orchard with fruit trees and berry bushes and flowers (can take 5+ years to mature). We can build our trelises for the vineyard (3+ years to maturity for new vines). We can start raising some of our animals and building our herd/flock. The agriculture side of the project can remain separate but intimately involved with everything else that is going on.

Throughout this whole project, the mission of the property will be growing and actively involving the community. We don’t need functional living space to teach about regenerative farming, permaculture orchards, woodworking, metal working, sewing, canning, and other aspects of self sufficiency. We will also share the robust history of the IOOF and the home, and its impact on our community in the early and mid 1900’s. We plan to grow this program in parallel with the renovations and development of the property. Education is at the core of our outreach. We wish to touch the lives of as many people in our community and abroad as we can.

So, as you can see, I’m a dreamer. This project is still in its infancy, but it can grow to be so much more. I hope you all stick around with me to see where this will go.

Stay tuned!

It all begins with a bid

It all started on a bit of a whim. In June of 2024, I saw a property go up for auction on all the social media sites. “Buy a piece of history” they said. “The possibilities are endless!” When I clicked through, it was a building/property that was about a mile or so from my home. 99 bedrooms. 21+ baths. 50,000+ sq ft of space on about 15 acres of woodlands. I asked my wife what she thought. She told me, “You’ll never win, but what does it hurt to put in a bid in?” So I did.

I dreamed a little. I checked in periodically to see if my bid was still the highest. As the final date of July 11th approached, I anticipated I would be outbid any day.

Oddly enough, I was on night shift that week. I had debated waking up early and going over to the final auction. However, I chose not to. I slept to my normal time of about 4pm. I woke up. I started my normal evening routine to get ready for work. Then, shortly after 5pm, my phone rang. “Unknown Caller” on the screen. I never pick those up. 30 seconds later, I get the ding of a new voicemail. As I listened, the voice came through good and clear “Hey, is this Garrett Butler? This is Joe Pyle from Joe Pyle Auctions and you’ve just won an auction! Give us a call back because we need you to sign some papers.”

The first thought through my head was “oh, sh!t”. I called my parents and told them to meet me over there. I tossed on my work clothes and packed my things. Then, I took that fateful drive that started this whole adventure. I signed all the papers. I met all the people. Shook all the hands. Sweating bullets the entire time. “What the heck did I get myself into?”

And so the story has continued to grow since then and will continue to grow. I’ve had an outpouring of support from the community. Friends and family are genuinely excited for this project and the future that it will bring. I have so many ideas. I want to do so much with this. Stick around. It’s gonna get a lot more fun around here.