LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMPTalk: Another brick in the wall |
by Bill Sievert |
One hundred years from now, the most remembered names from the early 21st century may not be Bush, bin Laden, or even Britney Spears. More likely, the names on the tips of tongues will be those of people who had purchased the largest number of historical markers to memorialize themselves. It started out harmlessly enough. At some point in the late 20th century, a local highway department somewhere decided it would be a nifty idea to parcel out bragging rights to a few kilometers of local roadway to various civic groups. To have a stretch of pavement named in their honor, the groups not only would have to make a monetary contribution, but also would be required to provide volunteers to keep the roadsides clean of litter. The idea took off big time and spread across the nation's highways like cigarette butts and beer cans. Capitalizing on the concept, scores of towns like Rehoboth Beach began selling name plaques for curbside trees and park benches to anyone with enough disposable income and a desire for nominal immortality. If you can't win a Nobel prize or buy your way into political office, just get a brick. Many of us have been tantalized by such offers. When my favorite little Florida town sent me a solicitation to purchase a plaque for the wall of a new civic building, I thought it might be a nice way to remember my father who went to college in the area and loved his time in the Sunshine State. A few days later, when I received a request from my high school in Kentucky to help support its new arts center by having a marble slab in its lobby inscribed with my name, I was almost persuaded to take out a pen and cut a check. But, before I could decide whether I wanted the slab to read "Bill" or "William," my computer beckoned me to an e-mail from my college alma mater in Ohio. "We're renovating the historic campus gate," it enthused. "Surrounding the grand arch will be a lovely brick courtyard, where your name can live forever..." Or at least until the next renovation project. What happens if every living graduate of the university decides to buy a brick, I wondered. So much for the old campus green. That's when I began to ponder how exclusive such offers are. On line, I discovered that a rival college also was peddling building materials, so I sent an e-mail asking whether I could buy a brick even if no one I know ever attended there. "Certainly," came the quick and obvious reply. If I had enough money, I could cast my name in stone at hundreds of American colleges, high schools, intermediate schools and many a kindergarten. From the Internet, I found that I also currently can buy bricks to be erected or imbedded at 208,049 other locations. How ever to choose? Should my name live on at the Wright Museum in New Hampshire or the Colts Neck public library in New Jersey? Or both? Would I like to become eternal at the Plymouth, Minnesota Millenium Garden or the Somerset County recreation program's new ballpark? I definitely want to be a part of the Maysville Theater in Russell, Ky. That's the home of Rosemary Clooney, after all. And who could resist the opportunity to be known through all of history at the Homer, Alaska, Chamber of Commerce? As if my choices weren't complicated enough, I received the latest issue of Letters. I am truly thrilled that CAMP Rehoboth has been able to put together a deal to acquire 39 Baltimore Avenue for a permanent downtown home for the Community Center, something I have long supported. And, sure enough, I can have my name (or that of a loved one) inscribed on a brick in the Founder's Walkway for a mere $2,500. But that's not all. Unlike many civic and charitable institutions which offer only one choice, CAMP Rehoboth has numerous options available to help us make a monumental decision. For $5,000, we can have our name carved into a tile on the Wall of Founders. For $10,000, we can have our name on a door in the community center. And for $15,000 we can have a room dedicated in our honor. Because of anticipated high demand, architects are working overtime to squeeze as many as 600 rooms into the existing second-floor apartment currently occupied by CAMP founders Steve Elkins and Murray Archibald. Of course, the existing building eventually will be expanded, which opens even more possibilities for those of us who seek permanent recognition. Among proposals currently under consideration (by me, at least) are: For a donation of only $25,000, the room named for you will be furnished with a queen-size waterbed, fully stocked refrigerator and 24-hour in-and-out privileges. Condoms included. Add $5,000 if you want Sunday brunch. For $40,000, you will receive all of the above, and artist Murray Archibald will personally tattoo hearts and rainbows on your private parts. (Just don't try to auction them at Sundance.) For $50,000, your waterbed will include a once-a-summer weekend visit by either Ricky Martin or 'N Sync's Lance Bass, your pick. For the ladies, choose between Melissa Etheridge or (just signed up) Rosie O'Donnell. A $100,000 contribution will buy an entire floor in your name. But you'll need to act fast on this option. Early inquiries indicate the need for a building of at least 36 stories, and the CAMP board is still in tricky negotiations regarding air rights. Although some city officials have expressed opposition to having Delaware's tallest building in Rehoboth Beach, others have expressed cautious support particularly in light of a suggestion that the penthouse be named permanent home of the CAMP Rehoboth Residential Center for Retired City Servants. We all have our price. Unfortunately, so does every brick I'd like to add to my personal wall of fame. I hope many of you will snap up all the wonderful enticements being offered to help make the CAMP Rehoboth Community Center a reality. (Keep in mind that you can join for as little as $100). But, while I'd like to accumulate as many chunks of perpetuity as possible, I'll currently have to settle for having my name inscribed atop this column. At least until my pocketbook is built like a brick and I can better afford to become just another brick in the wall. If you'd like to have Bill Sievert draw your name in chalk on the cement-block shed in his backyard, E-mail him at allforthecause@aol.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 12, No. 02, March 8, 2002. |