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Many readers in our area won’t easily be able to do this, but if you can, go to a 13-story building set atop multiple sub-basements.

Now imagine that structure has four sets of elevators with a total of 24 cars, all able to operate smoothly while the structure is pitching forward and aft while rolling side to side with enough vigor to repeatedly throw off your balance.

That seemingly impossible scene is an unquestioned standard on this ship, the Queen Mary 2, sole and possibly last in the tradition of ocean liners. Roughly a quarter century old, it shows some age but is relatively uncrowded and spacious compared to the cruise-style of ship.

The mechanical skills and experience able to design, build and keep operational a ship of such magnitude is worthy, in my mind, of admiration and respect. From build to maintain, well done indeed.

The thousand-footer bulk carriers that appear at our Lake Superior ports are indeed respectable, but a belly full of ore is a less complex cargo than a few thousand travelers in need of regular meals and comfy sleeping accommodations.

I doubt I’m alone being impressed by mechanical operations. Long ago I was awed by the High Bridge battery system with rank on rank of Exide cells linked to provide enough energy to power the bridge operation.

Wow.

Also wowsome (even in shut-down mode) are the boilers of the Meteor in Superior.

During speech competitions when young I was able to wheedle my way into the boiler rooms of Duluth Central. Another wow, one well kept by the engineers and custodians who ran the steam-powered 32-volt generators running the school’s air system, complete with humidifying scrubbers.

In a piece such as this, of course, I can’t credit all the available wow wonders. I hope, however, that those more prominent will remind readers to look closer to home for things of interest.

You may know the very impressive history of Hibbing High School, but miniscule in comparison Grand Marais harbor holds an aged and beautiful Fresnel light.

That same harbor, incidentally, once held the power plants from U.S. submarines used as backup power for the entire town. It’s easy to take things for granted. Easy, too, to forget what was and how successfully ordinary people rose to face challenges and provide the basis for others to squabble over.

In truth (some of you may not like this) I veer between moods favoring historic preservation and a ruthlessly practical side that says photograph and record in detail before letting the bulldozers go to work.

Why these extremes?

Hard to explain. In part, visits to restored or saved structures are funerary events. Without its function intact, a restoration has all the life of a mummy. Minus its original location and Dorothy, the Isle of Pines material moved to Ely as an attraction is sad as hell.

I know. I’m being extreme. But for me a cannery or brewery done over as a mall or arts venue inhabits a land of unquiet ghosts.

Just the other day in South Africa I asked about a small lighthouse attached to a popular hotel. I wanted to know the type of light used or even if they had a picture of it. All I got were blank looks.

Is desiccated history almost bad as none or is it worse?

That question daunts me, but rather than take a single stand on whether to preserve or record and let progress take its course I’m OK with a case-by-case approach. Can’t save everything after all, can we?

So, practical and realistic, we have to decide as best we can based (hopefully if you’re optimistic) on value rather than popularity.

Maybe it’s ever inevitable fat mansions will attract more attention and care than humble places.

Our sisters and brothers honored the pyramids, until fairly recently taking long-due note of the where and how of the pyramid workers’ lives. Human nature is like that whether for deciding for or against a preservation project or to hail or pooh-pooh political positions we favor or oppose based on the vagaries of emotions.

Well, well, one person asserts “pets make us happy” whereas another insists “we’re happy by working with our animals and pets.”

Which view is yours? Which mine? Maybe neither suits us well because in our civilized condition we are 98 of a hundred familiar solely with pets. Occasionally hitting a deer and making a claim does not translate to knowledge of wildlife.

For most of us our experience with other creatures is greatly skewed. How many of us who happily accept cartoon animals as real expressions have seen a chicken lose its head on a block or have seen streams of poultry process in a flicker from living to non?

First time eight-year-old me saw a headless chicken dance across a farmyard I was scared witless. The scene was horrifying. It got no better or easier when next some chicken soup came my way.

Was this the same as I saw running from its bloody fate? Regardless of my sympathies, a mouthwatering chop of pork or tasty stew of poultry reconciled my qualms.

Just like me, isn’t it, to leap from mechanical marvels to a regard for living beings?

Asking your tolerance, I suggest a mind of open curiosity whether toward shipboard elevators or the way we go about feeding ourselves. Seems to me that active curiosity leads toward a more interesting view of life and its elements.

Anyway, looking out seeing the coast of Africa is as suitable a place as any to consider elevators or historic sites or headless chickens.

The same agile minds that can appreciate mechanical ingenuity should, I think, also be keen enough to see and ask the obvious. Why on earth, let’s ask, do we support or reject the things we do?

Simply, in my view, questioning and stepping back from the foregone are steps totally in the direction of adding to our human understanding. And it’s fun.

If a politician gives direction for relationships or finances, we might well ask why they aren’t working and rely on us for pay.

If someone sells their supposed wisdom we should expect value.