Ticket 2 Ride

That’s a famous song from My Fair Lady, but this blog is about the street where I live. My street is middle America; tree canopy, kids at play, quiet – except for the sound of commercial mowers and house construction.

My street is so popular that people buy perfectly good homes, tear them down and build houses well over $1M. Within 500 feet there are currently three lots undergoing this phenomenon. Counting the next block down, 20 lots have, or are undergoing, this noisy and evasive process. Desirability to live here has pushed up property values, property taxes, and density per parcel. Everyone wants in!

I’ve only lived here about six months; my wife has resided here for almost 30 years. She raised two kids in this pocket of residential heaven. A lot of the housing stock is post World War II; affordable housing for young families. Many of those families stayed after the kids left, then turned those houses over to other young families.

My wife both loves and hates living here now. She owns a great house, comfortable and full of memories. The reconstruction craze is another story: noisy, dusty, construction trucks and equipment all over the place. When finished, these monstrous houses tower over the quaint, next door homes. How the building codes allow these humongous structures is something I still don’t understand. My wife served on the city council for eight years and fought to rein-in this process, but powerful forces chipped away at opposition, gaining concessions and finding ways to maximize every legal inch allowed by the code. Sadly, these larger construction footprints, wipe out large, mature trees on these lots. Trees are a big deal, the city’s street canopy is breathtaking.

One of the truly nice things about this neighborhood is how many people walk or jog. Dogs, strollers, kids on bikes – heavy foot traffic at all times of the day and evening. Within about four or five blocks there are three neighborhood parks, including one within half a block from our house. My wife had a hand in turning that public land with a water tower into a cozy little park.

Our neighborhoods are subsets of our community. Our neighbors are our network; need help, want to know what’s going on, borrow a tool, keep an eye out when out of town, organize a neighborhood sale – you turn to those close by.

Did you ever try to return to your childhood street years later? Growing up it felt like your kingdom, or at least where you evolved. Not everyone had the opportunity to live in a single family dwelling, or even have the stability of a nuclear family, although the word “family” has a much broader, inclusive meaning now, than when it assumed biological mother-father-siblings. Apartments are the new “affordable housing” model, they are everywhere, but affordability is a misnomer.

The city we live in would be more often referred to as a town, if it was outside of a metropolitan area, in part because of its smallish size, and sense of togetherness. There are clusters of small communities like this one in the metro area, each with its own unique style and culture. People are funny about how they approach what they value most about this community. Whatever that “thing” is, it’s a desired commodity. Everybody does want in.

I grew up in a town similar to this one, a version of Mayberry, Mayfield or some 1960s fictional community. It was slow-paced, safe, neighborly, a vibrant Main Street, kids played outside till dark, stay at home moms the norm – but very white bread, and seemingly sheltered from the outside world. We like to think of this image, or romanticized memory as better, because we want to believe it was. Certain things were, but other things not so. It’s easy to sell a Kodachrome snapshot, filtering only things we loved or miss, not the problems or attitudes we evolved from.

I can see elements of my hometown here, these are likely qualities that generations of citizens worked hard to develop and preserve. Don’t get me wrong, this community has its struggles and political divides. I’ve yet to see any Stepford Wives or any Nazis here, just folks who want good schools for their kids, responsive city services, and a minimum of noise on a Saturday morning.

Good communities take hard work, vision and people who care. It’s not expensive homes that make a quality community, nor is it rows of houses where everyone looks and thinks alike.

I’m fortunate to live where I do. I don’t know if my neighbors feel that way, but I’m glad that my wife, dog and at least one of the two cats approve of me being here.