Skip to main content

Neighborhood

I grew up in a neighborhood that looked like this. (This photo is from a Coventry/Cleveland Heights Facebook group.) Mature trees, old sidewalks, tree lawns, older homes of the center hall colonial variety.

As an adult I lived in one apartment after another. I yearned for the day I would live in a real house, in a real neighborhood. My older daughter and I had a mantra of sorts, "Someday we'll live in a house with an upstairs and a downstairs, a washer and a dryer. And a treehouse."

When we moved to Columbia in 1999 and embarked on a new life as a family in the New American City, it was, in many ways, a dream come true. We finally had that house (minus the treehouse, but, maybe someday...) and yet something was missing.

I had in my mind the now somewhat mythical neighborhoods of my youth. But my new home was a quadroplex amongst quadroplexes. No fireplaces, long driveways with garages out back, no architectural detail, no back staircase, or butler's pantry. No basement or attic.

It was a house with an upstairs and a downstairs and a washer and a dryer, but was it a Real House? In a Real Neighborhood? Was I holding up a standard from the past that my real life would never be able to attain?

As I drove to church on Christmas Eve, and later when I drove home from a party in Running Brook, I noticed how many people had put up Christmas lights this year. And not just on the detached houses--what I would have called "Real Houses" in the past. Within my own little neighborhood of Cinnamon Tree at Talbott Springs it seems there are more Christmas lights than ever.

Something about those lights spoke to me of how my little neighborhood and my little quadroplex have truly become my real home. Putting out Christmas lights is an act of faith somehow. "This is my place. I am shining my light for all to see."

Every so often the figure of Jim Rouse is invoked to prove a point or try to shape debate on a current issue. In most cases I deplore that sort of usage. I will say that the spirit of Columbia lives on in 2013 when someone like me, who grew up in old suburbs, all-white suburbs, can come to a new place, live in a very different sort of house, in a very different kind of neighborhood, amongst a wide variety of neighbors, and feel at home.

And that's what Columbia is all about, Charlie Brown.

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...