The Third Act

I had the pleasure of attending a gala for the Friends of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge this month. A small but mighty nonprofit promoting “conservation and appreciation of natural and cultural resources…through education, outreach, advocacy, and on-the-ground stewardship,” its territory includes nearly 190,000 acres of critical wildlife habitat. The gathering coincided with the birthday of an individual considered the founder the Friends of Malheur and, by most in the room, also credited with starting the Oregon Natural Desert Association, Bend’s Environmental Center and the central Oregon chapter of Great Old Broads for Wilderness. When it was her turn to speak, she skipped to the podium smiling but shaking her head, hands in the air in protest as though stopping the praise in its tracks. She proceeded to purposefully, with humor and humility, refute all the recognition, shrugging it off, placing the shawl of acclaim around the shoulders of deserving others in the room.

A concept I had never heard of was introduced to me recently: “existence value.” Environmentally speaking, it refers to the “value” of knowing that a particular species, habitat or ecosystem does and will continue to exist because it is being protected, like the Malheur Refuge. The existence value of an environmental resource, also referred to as non-use or passive value, is, by definition, “free of any use that the valuer may make of a particular resource.” It refers to the value of benefits derived from the mere existence of a natural asset, the knowledge and trust that Crater Lake, for example, exists pretty much unfettered by human activity. A tree, for instance, can be valued in a number of ways: use (as lumber), option (things that it could be used for) or existence (simply being there). Saving the best for last, it’s simply being there we’re talking about here.

The organizations the guest of honor was credited with founding all work to preserve the Great Basin desert. To the extent that awareness of what and why those organizations matter increases, their existence value also increases and, as a result, contributions to make sure they stay protected increase. Even though we may not visit these natural resources, the mere knowledge of their safeguarded existence provides a sense of reassurance, a sense that things are right in the world.

But does this term refer only to an environmental resource? Halloween will be here soon. I can imagine children going up and down the streets in the New England town I am from, a town essentially frozen in time, which, in my 20s, was a good reason to leave. But I now find I am reassured by the knowledge that younger generations of the families I grew up with are putting gardens to bed, tying off onion tops, gathering corn stalks to decorate front porches, carving pumpkins, just as we did. Now that change seems more of a constant than ever, that my hometown stubbornly persists as its unchanging self is a source of contentment. Does the knowledge that treasured traditions live on have existence value? What about memories? And what about, say, museums that trigger a memory of an existing natural resource which then activates our appreciation of that resource’s existence? Would that be double existence value?

The individual honored at the gala was Alice Elshoff. It was her 90th birthday. I maintain individuals like Alice Elshoff have existence value. The high desert would wholeheartedly agree. Alice isn’t the desert itself, but her commitment both complements and mirrors its value, the absolute necessity of its existence as a prerequisite to our own. That people like Alice persevere has incalculable inspiration value. And if inspiration spurs action for the good of the planet, then …well, you see all the fun places this can go.

Of course, we can write a check and bask in the knowledge that our generosity has helped protect a fishery or orphanage or butterfly. But that the term “experience value” exists at all depends on those who are on the frontlines, forwarding the conservancy and humanitarian causes we support — like Alice, who headed out on a work project at the Refuge only days after the tribute dinner.

Here’s to our high desert’s queen Mum,
our Sedna of the sagebrush ocean.
May feather, paw, hoof and hand,
branch and blossom daily join
in a circle dance of thanks
to you, Alice, angel and warrior,
the high desert’s curandera.

—Poet and author Ellen Waterston is a woman of a certain age who resides in Bend. “The Third Act” is a series of columns on ageing and ageism.

This article appears in Source Weekly October 24, 2024.