Written by Rick Trottier
I take many walks in many places and while the focus of these walks is to improve the health of my body, what I see and ponder advances the thoughts in my mind. When I’m visiting my family, my walk is a mix of city neighborhoods on the outskirts of town and cemeteries abounding in solitude and serenity. There is no question that the peace of the cemetery always is a draw and balm to my soul. I probably make it sound like the cemetery part of the walk is superior, and in many ways it is. But the neighborhood segment has its charms too and in manyof the ways that average or “normal” people might find surprising.
While looking at the varied types of plantings people do in and around their yards makes the landscaper in me take stock, and most people would assume that would be the favored element ofmy neighborhood views, it is actually something else I find far more compelling. The old contractor’s assistant in me is drawn to the structure of the dwellings I see on every street. I look at each for as long as I can as I stride along the walking path I have set out, unwilling to slow down or change because every time I walk, the aim is to go for as long as before (or longer) and to maintain the pace (or improve it). Such leads to a healthier body. But I am always scanning all the houses I can to see what they can tell me.
Determining the style of the house is always Job Number 1. Most of the time that is quite easy, but at other times, additions and/or changes to the roofline as well as modifications to the general floor plan can make something appear to be something it is not. A house I helped to rebuild a number of years ago seemed to be a 1950s ranch until you really started looking at the wide array of details that told another story. By the end of my observations and studies, it was obvious that “the original structure” was pre-Civil War and that it was most likelya fairly primitive cabin or even a small barn in its original form. So many additions, alterations and renovations were added over the decades that it evolved into something unrecognizable. And many people think adding on or changing a house can make it better, and sometimes it does. But other times, it creates a wasps’ nest of troubles just waiting to explode.
I like to examine the siding and roofing materials, the age and style of the windows, whether it has gable ends or a hip roof, what the foundation is made of (if I can see it), how it sits on the property and engages with the landscaping, if there is any. The artist in me enjoys seeing houses like Craftsman Bungalows and late Victorians which show a flair for design and some quirky and eye-catching characteristics. The scientist in me knows the value of ranches and their like for how efficient they are and their clean, simple lines. Some houses are attractive and sensible, but have slowly become far too ubiquitous like Capes and Colonials, both of which were built so often they were beaten to death over the years in my native New England. It takes an open mind to like Split-Levels, even though there is aneccentric logic to their layout. On the whole, they are, like another style from their time period, the Angular Contemporary, not always easy on the eye.
But there are some styles that are a mixture of both qualities; both utilitarian and efficient yet attractive and striking. Nearing the end of my walk, on a slightly sloped side street are two houses, nicely situated next to each other, on a quiet and private part of this lane, both of which arrest my attention every time I pass them by. The first is a classic Mid-Century Modern in the Bauhaus form, a style from my youth that I found and still find deeply compelling despite how far out of popularity it has fallen. The other is a Hip-Roof Ranch with elegant lines and at least one, likely two practical modifications that have made it just that little bit more practical. Both houses benefit from very pleasant and modest landscaping efforts that improve the curb appeal and work well with the general design of the home. Both the siding and trim of each house has a very thoughtful, muted and tasteful choice of simple paint colors. The houses are in superb condition, likely were built right around the same time, somewhere in the 1950s and unlike the Capes and Ranches lower down on the street that were created in small clumps by one or two builders, these were likely designed and constructed individually to meet the wishes and desires of the people who first lived in them.
But what engendered the theme of this article is the fascinating contrast these two homes have with the “monstrosity” across the street. Such was the name my builder friend and I gave homes that offended our sensibilities for any number of reasons. I find the “monstrosity” house offensive for several small causes and one big one.
On the surface, the “monstrosity” house is a well-built, cleaned-lined modern Colonial. I deeply dislike the lack of landscaping the makes it stand out like a sore thumb. No effort to integrate the house with the neighboring trees or other flora was made. It stands like an Ivory Tower in the middle of a sward of grass and nothing else. What also makes it stand out is that it is unlike any of the surrounding structures. At the head of the street are the oldest homes, a Farm House and a Victorian, which were likely all that was on that part of the street for quite a long time since this was the peripheries of town and what was around were fields and the cemeteries. As the street climbs the slope, Capes from the 1940s and Ranches from the 1950s can be seen, all of which were likely to have been erected by one or two local contractors. The middle of the street is an eclectic mix of styles from the 1950s and 1960s. There is even a raised, Long Island-style ranch, similar to but larger than the one I grew up in. Where the “monstrosity” house sits is where something else once stood before it was razed to make room for the hideous structure that is there now. At the end of the street are more modern Capes and Ranches from the 1970s and perhaps 1980s. As anyone with a shred of brain power can see, the “monstrosity” house does not fit into the neighborhood and if that was the plan, to stand out in all its repugnant nature, than the persons who authored its construction succeeded in their ghastlydevices.
What I object to even more forcefully than how horridly the “monstrosity” house stands out is how needlessly colossal and indulgently mammoth that house is. The Mid-Century Modern and the Hip-Roof Ranch are likely to be somewhere in the range of 1100-1400 square feet in size, about the same footprint of the house of my childhood. Like most of the children of my generation who grew up in such houses, that was more than enough space for my parents, my little sister and me. We did not need the gargantuan kitchens and dining areas that have become all too commonly seen on shows like This Old House, radiating lifestyle propaganda that Americans lap up with less and less thought given to what over-sized houses do to the environment, the economy, the tax-base and housing prices as well as overstressed neighborhoods and their infrastructure. The “monstrosity” house is likely to be between 2000-2500 square feet and I sincerely doubt they have a family that fills its spacious halls to the very gunwales. More than likely the “monstrosity” house has a ridiculously profligate entryway which wastes space and heat, but screams “we’re affluent” to the repellant visitors who cross the threshold. And that is just the start of its disagreeable floor plan and structural execution.
We had ONE bathroom for the three of us, later the four of us and it was only when my parents tired of sharing thelavatory that they turned a sizable storage closet on the end of their bedroom into a second bathroom. Later still, when they grew weary of putting up with my young teenage miasma on the same floor, I was “banished” to the renovated basement where a small bedroom, small bath and small living room gave me my first sense of living “on my own” since I didn’t need to actually see the family and could go in and out by the basement door. My banishment meant my old room became part of a new “eat-in” kitchen, so very like the majority of 1950s ranches and doing away with the tiny galley kitchen my parents could afford when the house was first built. Our house was more than comfortable, wonderfully efficient and cozy for the time and allowed my parents to live in “suburban style” in an era when modern-looking homes like ours were replacing the older styles from the pre-war period. What is grossly distasteful about the “monstrosity” house is it blends a time-honored structural trend from the early days of New England with the decadent, indulgent ways of today that showcase “keeping up with the Joneses” and surpassing them in every manner possible. Isn’t that what we are supposed to do, get into prosperity rivalries with all our neighbors, co-workers and friends so that striving to be more easily noticed is achieved? Nothing is ever enough; you are always supposed to want more and more and more. And if you don’t want more, like that revolting lawyer’s commercial with “Miss More”, something is somehow wrong with you and you must be a socialist.
Well I am certainly not a socialist, but I also am no longer a materialist and have embraced the teachings of Christ, the Buddha, Taoism and the Stoics. I see the lie in preaching to people that they should consume as much as they can, and the “monstrosity” house is one of the best examples I can present. We used to believe that a home was where the family gathered around the hearth. All that was needed was a place to find shelter, warmth, food and the fellowship of family and occasionally friends. Now, homes are repositories for wealth and accumulation, which doesn’t bring greater happiness but only rapidly expanding misery. I see many an article in very well-regarded publications talking about the mental health epidemic in this country. Countless very good reasons for such a decline have been postulated, but one that doesn’t get enough consideration, especially from cowardly politicians who would never point the finger at their base, is how enslaved we are to things we don’t need, one of which is an enormous house, far larger than any family should want. It is certain that we have far too many “things” and our ever-increasing problems with addiction in this country speak to spiritual blight, but it all starts at home, everything does. And if the home is too large and too empty or filled with unnecessary clutter, the dwellers inside will be empty or cluttered of soul and unhappy too.
