According to the media, in Wisconsin alone, there are about 50 communities not participating in the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP). This makes them ineligible not only for flood insurance but also for state and federal aid. Why would so many communities, like that of Lake Delton, go without? For what reason would local governments leave their constituents, well, not exactly high and dry?

The Capital Times editor emeritus Dave Zweifel has an interesting opinion in today’s paper. It sheds light on what otherwise is a murky matter. According to Zweifel:

“There are many reasons, but they usually boil down to that never-ending social and political battle we know as development. Once the municipality agrees with FEMA’s definition of a flood plain, new building within that plain is subject to numerous restrictions. Not only do the buildings have to be constructed to withstand floods, but their location in relation to bodies of water faces restrictions and, in some instances, building can’t happen at all.

Communities and, particularly, the developers don’t like that. Not only do the flood plain rules limit structures like resorts and condos on valued lakefront and riverfront property, but they can put a crimp into a municipality’s grand design to grow and add more tax base.”

How sad.

Once again, it’s all about money and personal desires. Developers want their fortune, without respect to sensible building standards or the land on which they build. And owners want their dream home, whether it’s safe from overflowing waters or not.

Once again I ask: who should pay for this?

Here in Wisconsin, Lake Delton has become our poster child of flooding. On June 9, torrential rains caused the 245-acre, man-made lake to tear away the county highway that served as its dike and literally drain itself within hours into the already flooded Wisconsin River. Most dramatic is the coverage of lakefront homes that were ripped from the shoreline and washed away into the rushing waters.

You sure have to feel for these homeowners.

But wait. When I watched the TV news coverage, my feelings became mixed. I saw Lake Delton homeowners bemoan the loss of their…yep, you got it…vacation homes. Don’t get me wrong. I realize multiple-homeowners work as hard for their real estate as the rest of us. But when thousands of Midwesterners elsewhere are struggling to save the only home they own from water, sewage and who-knows-what, it’s hard to feel pain for those crying for their vacation homes.

My feelings were furthered mixed when I read of Lake Delton’s insurance woes. It seems the community was not enrolled in the federal flood insurance program. Nor were homeowners covered in their private homeowner policies. Here’s where I start to ask questions: At what point must each of us, as individual citizens, assume responsibility for our own rights and privileges? And to what extent are we, as a society, responsible for the rights and privileges of individuals?

One of the homes was valued at $1 million. As the Tomah Journal put it, “Does the government owe them another $1 million lakefront home? A less expensive home with no lake frontage? Anything?”

Another couple spent their life’s savings to build a dream home along side the lake, all the while knowing they were uninsured. Is this wise? Are taxpayers responsible for their love of water, even to the point of foregoing common sense?

A phone call to my insurance agency answered some of these questions. My agent explained that most private insurance companies do not offer coverage against flooding. Rather, homeowners purchase insurance from the federal government’s National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP), which they obtain through their private insurer.

But there’s a catch.

Homeowners cannot receive coverage if their community is not enrolled in the NFIP program. Reasons for not enrolling are usually because the area is determined to be a low risk for flooding. In the case of Lake Delton, a lakeside village located between Dell Creek and the large Wisconsin River, its officials disputed a federal updated floodplain map and forfeited their eligibility in the program.

This happened seven years ago.

So, let’s think about it. Here’s a community, surrounded by water, whose elected officials chose not to comply with its only source of flood insurance. For seven years. Would it not be the responsibility of homeowners to question these decisions? To oust those oafs from office and elect officials who act more in their behalf? To get involved?

These are difficult questions, to be sure. What do you think?

As for me, I’ll stay living on my hill and enjoy the water from afar.

Because May is Historic Preservation Month, it’s important to pay tribute to this barn and its noteworthy architectural style known as fachwerk.

Fachwerk, or framework, is the German name for timber-frame architecture found throughout Europe, particularly in areas where timber was in short supply. Builders used hewed-lumber for the skeletal framework and then filled in the remainder of the wall with burned or dried brick.

According to William Tischler, in his article Fachwerk Construction in the German Settlements of Wisconsin¹, fachwerk was popular among German Lutherans who emigrated during the 1800’s from Germany’s northern areas of Brandenburg and Pomerania and then settled in Dodge, Jefferson, Washington and Osaukee Counties of Wisconsin. They built houses, threshing barns, stables, woodsheds, granaries and even churches in the fachwerk style of construction.

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May is Preservation Month and the National Trust for Historic Preservation has an interesting theme for this year’s campaign—This Place Matters. According to their site, the campaign “is designed to help people share the place that matter to them, wherever these places happen to be. By simply printing a sign and taking a picture, you can tell the story about a place that matters to you.”

To date, 60 people or organizations have posted pictures of places that matter and brief explanations of why. Others have gone even further and posted YouTube videos. From public buildings, to homes, to bridges, this is an interesting collection of what people are doing to preserve places that matter to our heritage and our history.

So, do you have a place that matters to you? Post it on This Place Matters!

The gist of the article is an answer to the question “Is it worth it to spend hours in the workshop handcrafting your own furniture when you can find instant gratification with trendy, relatively low-cost furniture from a store?”

One of my children answers this question from the same viewpoint that many Wood Magazine readers did. She says handcrafted furniture has spoiled her. She looks at furniture her friends have purchased from well-reputed, expensive companies and finds it no where near the quality of pieces made by her brothers, father and grandfather.

Once again, my child is right (such is the case with parenthood).

In today’s throwaway world, as the article says, furniture is massed produced with staples, fiberboard and melamine. Even the so-called “finer” furniture from expensive stores is often constructed with lesser-quality woods and poor joinery. “Disposable furniture” is a term the article uses to describe this furniture and the reality that within five to seven years it will need to be replaced.

Compare that to a piece made by a hobbiest or professional artisan who spends days, weeks, even months choosing the right wood, carefully cutting and joining parts, and finishing with multiple layers of a durable coating. This piece shows pride in workmanship. It’s a labor of love. And not only has the artisan created something that will last during his or her lifetime, it will also become a treasured heirloom to those following.