The view from the window in the back of our apartment, today.
In one day, they demolished the lovely old house that was on the other side of our block. We should have seen it coming—they pulled up all of the trees in the mini-orchard back there late last year. Something was happening, but there was no way to tell what. No signs warning us, no “Notice of Proposed Land Use Action.” Just a bulldozer one morning.
I feel surrounded by construction, claustrophobic at all of the construction that is going on in my neighborhood. I'll never be a millionaire because I just don't understand the desire to make money by knocking down an old, personable, quaint (yes, I used "quaint") and lovely house, with a back yard, fruit trees, swingset and HISTORY, to make room to "subdivide into four/six lots for resale or lease....townhouse/condominium construction preapproved..." Townhouses. Condos with mixed-use retail and parking garage and health club and five trees planted on the roof to make nice with the green laws. Thank you very much, that is so serene to those of us down here. I'm sure the neighborhood sparrows will just head up to perch on your topiaries and the squirrels will nest in your ivy sprigs and the swallows will enjoy the little buggies that have been attracted by your chlorine-filled seasonal naturalistic fountain
Yes, I realize that we need more housing. Yes, I realize that people deserve to spend their money as they see fit, after all, they worked hard for that money, dammit. But this algae-bloom of townhouses is not good for the future of our neighborhoods or even for our society. And condos—sheesh. A condo costs as much as a house did a few years ago, and this is for a little closet in a huge building, situated on a manila folder street, where you have to warn your friends who can't find you, "Remember, it's the one with the organic eggshell trim, not the one with the buttercream scone trim! No, no not that one, can you tell that that color is mocha latté? Can't you tell the difference between ORGANIC EGGSHELL and MOCHA LATTÉ???"
Whatever happened to the fixer-upper little house with a white picket fence (cheap white that was on sale, who cares whether it's eggshell or cloud or cream) and a little yard with a flowerbed and maybe even a tree or two? Doesn't anyone want that anymore? And if they, like me, DO want that, why are they settling for a cube in a particleboard palace?
Seattle doesn't need more housing. We need better housing. We need incentives to keep our historical buildings, whether they are historical because Jimi Hendrix slept there or because you got dressed for your first day of school there.
Money is the object, though, and developers are going to keep knocking down our childhood memories as long as they can come away with some cash. So, what do we do?
Stop paying them to take away our city’s history, and tell them that it’s no good to create neighborhoods painted in all the shades of taupe. We need to buy the old houses ourselves, fix them up instead of tearing them down, maybe even divide them up into triplexes to make more rooms for families and young couples and all of these housing-hungry condomaniacs. Live with your friends instead of buying a condo. Rent a studio apartment and spend lots of time in local coffeehouses and INTERACT with one another. Paint your house purple. Be an individual.
It’ll cost a wee bit more than a townhouse that is prewired for Wi-Fi and comes with a sauna and a two square foot balcony that will just fit a topiary. But just think, which place will feel like a home in ten years, and which choice will just feel like a place to live? That is hopefully incentive enough.
1 comment:
I'm writing from the perspective of someone whose old family home is turning into a luxury condo. Yes, first all of the trees are removed -- trees that my grandmother had planted, lilac trees that I use to climb, crabapple trees that bore tons of sour fruit that we turned into shrunken heads, and more & more trees whose leaves would rustle in the summer breeze while I swung for hours in the swingset that my dad built. He made it out of fat plumbing pipes and it wasn't pretty. But it survived my older cousin and his friends entertaining us with silly tricks and remained rock solid. Now my friends put their kids in wiggly swingsets that come from a kit and there's no way a cool older cousin could goof around on it -- and definitely not with his friends.
We lived in that house because it was affordable and when our options were few. Neighborhoods change, so a luxury condo isn't any surprise. I saw the developer's drawing of how it will look. Tall, skinny trees will supposedly flank the tall, long building. No, there isn't a front yard for kids to play in. No, there won't be a swingset in the backyard. Oh wait, there won't be a backyard. And, eight families will make their memories there. And, that's progress.
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