Graduation

When the Inn opened its doors fifteen years ago, its inventory of vacant rooms was legion, reciprocally matched by the scant resources to market them. As do many businesses in similar quagmires, or with generous hearts, we pandered for inexpensive exposure by donating our services to non-profit endeavors, which as a general rule were grateful for a helping hand.
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The stinging exception was The Swan Ball, which - for the uninformed - hosts what could be the toniest of all charity auctions. Its players include the most pedigreed and dandified from here and abroad, from national politicians and international nobility to local millionaires and social luminaries – or more to the point, an affluent and influential market segment.
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When I approached the Ball’s chair, an arrogant blowhard if there ever was one, he spurned our overture. Though he had never visited the Inn, he assumed it wasn’t up to snuff - too rustic to satiate the rarefied appetites of the monied flock he curried. While I’m loathe to admit it and while the bastard certainly didn’t know it, he was right, for peering back on the Evins Mill of fifteen years ago, I now appreciate that we weren’t ready for prime time.
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The overnight accommodations were without the decor, furnishings and amenities they feature today. The Lodge and Gristmill had yet to undergo the additions and renovations of more recent years. The property itself was less tended than it presently is. Though the staff was industrious and well-meaning, none – myself included, had any experience in hospitality, resulting in a less consistent quality of cuisine and service than is currently the case.
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In some respects, today’s Inn is barely recognizable from the Evins Mill of yore – so different in fact that I cringe when someone informs me they visited during those early years, and feel compelled to enumerate on the progress we've made. I may be grading the Inn of yesteryear too harshly, but by present standards, it was rough around the edges.
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With these humble, and humbling, beginnings in mind, you might imagine my delight when more than a decade later another Swan Ball chair, refreshingly gracious and a recent patron of the Inn, solicited our contribution to this year’s auction. We acquiesced, and I understand the bidding was competitive. It felt as though we had finally graduated.
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If this coming of age snippet appears a wee self-congratulatory, we are only as proud of our progress as we are aware of our shortcomings and the work that remains – we still make mistakes, and the litany of proposed improvements grows weekly. If associated with Evins Mill fifteen years hence, I suspect I will grade the Inn of today with as little forgiveness as I’ve assessed its infancy.

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With all the physical and human assets we have, a critical eye may be the most quintessential, for it guarantees that Evins Mill will not become codified and will remain a singular work in progress, soberly striving for but falling regrettably shy of perfection - a struggle that at least ensures it will be slightly better tomorrow than it is today. Hopefully then, we will always be graduating.