Warm and Fuzzy

When it gets to this point of the year, and you don't have air conditioning (which is the cruel fate we have been dealt for this summer), the very phrase "warm and fuzzy" is apt to give you the willies. The sensation against your sticky skin just screams uncomfortable and itchy. But putting that unpleasantness aside, the term "warm and fuzzy" also harkens to a very attractive feeling, especially when it comes to the question of place. Developers trying to sell expensive homes look to the descriptive phrase to entice high-salaried and/or -net worth types to buy into their new communities. Although developers try their best to generate it synthetically, it really takes the organic preexisting character of a locale, or the naturally-occurring trend of a certain breed of newcomers, to imprint the "warm and fuzzy" stamp on a place.

What got me into this disturbing realm? Well, besides the hallucinations of being subjected to over 90-degree heat at night, one recent tidbit aroused my attention. An unusual feature article found its way on the front page of the Sunday Real Estate section of The New York Times. Entitled "Park Slope Parent Trap," the piece explored the reputation of my current home as a place where "scores of 30-something couples who seemingly move to Brooklyn to breed." Comparing her neighborhood encounters to being in a "small country village, or in Australia," the writer's account forced me to hold my head in shame that I've willingly chosen to live in such a place. Prefacing her remarks by stating that she was unwillingly one of those "'annoying parent types'" that populate the area, the writer ended up embracing the warm and fuzzy nature of her home. Ahhhhh. Yeck.

But the attraction of warm and fuzzy places is not limited to a relatively small, self-absorbed enclave of New York City. Take for example the Texas Hill Country, a land with a rugged history, epitomized by one of its favorite sons, LBJ. The man, as president, showed off his gall bladder surgery scars while in office, for God's sake. How could he, too, have come from a land deemed "warm and fuzzy"? Unfortunately, it has come to be. The rolling hills, lakes and rivers of the Hill Country, a region located west of Austin, has attracted this type of crowd, to the horror of those who got there first. As one longer-term denizen noted, "'We just wanted a small house where we could enjoy the land and be left alone.'" After only eight years in his new home with his wife, this Hill Country resident sees the tide of development creeping into the territory. As one economist so concluded matter-of-factly, "'People want to live out in the country.'" Singer Willie Nelson has jumped into the frenzy, selling off a portion of his ranch in the area for luxury homes. One set of newcomers, from California no less, described the draw of the Hill Country for them by explaining that they "wanted [their] children to grow up in a 'warm and fuzzy area' with plenty of Southern hospitality."

It seems that no matter where the next frontiers of development are, be they in the urban center or the urban fringe, the common denominator is the omnipresent and aforementioned warm and fuzziness which I find so hard to embrace. People want that place where they can raise a family. (In the case of Park Slope, people seem to want to live in places where women freely expose their breasts in order to feed their hungry broods). As a newlywed looking to get started in this department, it doesn't seem to be that horrible of a request from the place my wife and I live. Then why does it concern me so? Why do I feel like I'm in 90-degree heat with a cat rubbing up against my leg? Developers spent the better part of the last century trying to impose a uniform built environment on Americans in the form of suburban tract housing developments. Today, developers are ostensibly adapting towards more diverse tastes, providing new offerings in preexisting urban settlements (such as the rehabbed buildings across Park Slope), and on the urban fringe with town center concepts allowing for pedestrian scale activity and community. But does this outlook necessarily comport with all of America? I'm not advocating the construction of unattractive, unsafe places to live, but does everything have to be perfectly polished, clean and bright? Does everything have to cater towards the well-off in child-bearing mode? Variety is a good thing, and "new" doesn't necessarily have to mean "warm and fuzzy." A little grit under your fingernails never hurt anyone -- take a look at LBJ and his scar.

Affordable Housing, New York Style

Over this past weekend I was walking the streets of Park Slope, Brooklyn, trying to finish all the things that one needs to do on the weekend when he returns to the working world. In the middle of my errands, a young woman handed me a flyer, offering as an explanation, "Support affordable housing in Brooklyn." Always wanting to be in touch with my surroundings, I rejected my better judgment and took the flyer. As promised, it was an advertisement for a local advocacy group called the Fifth Avenue Committee, and one of their proposals -- a new "affordable housing" project at 575 5th Avenue, intended to cater towards seniors, soon-to-be released foster children who have reached the age of maturity and homeless adults looking to turn the corner. A noble endeavor indeed, but what raised my eyebrows was something considerably more mundane -- the cardstock of the handout. I'm a little more mindful of such details these days, as my wedding invitations will be going out the door in the next few weeks. A few blocks further up the street, another civic-minded type offered me another cause with another accompanying sheet -- this time involving a drive to recycle used electronic equipment. Besides the fact that the fellow was handing me paper in an effort to promote recycling (which seemed counterproductive), he wanted me to take a flimsy white sheet of paper, unlike the fancy, substantial, off-white offering from the affordable housing people. That professionally-prepared advertisement, complete with a picture of the proposed structure, got me to thinking about how (and why) such an outfit could (and would) spend such time, money and effort on such luxurious disposable pleas for help.

The answer got a little clearer when I learned that over in Manhattan, around Columbia University, another unusual proposal is circulating through the grapevine for a potential future rezoning that would impact the neighborhood. Columbia is in the midst of proposing a massive $7 billion expansion into 17 acres of West Harlem, on the current edge of the school's campus. The plan would bring as many as 18 new towers that would dwarf the other surrounding buildings in the otherwise lower-income neighborhood. The Borough President's answer to this infiltration into one of the last "affordable" areas in Manhattan is to rezone the area so as to mandate the preservation of the current scale of the neighborhood. Right now, the area is populated mostly by four- to six-story buildings. Despite the likewise laudable approach, which includes protections against tenant harrassment to vacate their homes and businesses, the plan would not impact Columbia's vision. In addition, developers would be able to build larger-scale structures as long as they provide street-level space to locally-based retail businesses. One current landlord has characterized the plan as "throwing the community a bone so that Columbia can bulldoze the neighborhood."

As in the Park Slope case, how far have these communities really gone to preserve some semblance of "affordability" in New York City? Is this a goal that's really just a lost cause? Of course, all metropolitan regions must contend with the issue of attracting capital to more cost-effective housing and retail options. Even New Orleans, which is facing the problem of attracting capital to any part of the city outside the French Quarter, has tried again to raise the profile of its plight by designating 17 areas in the city as "development areas." With $1.1 billion in financing, which still must be approved, Mayor C. Ray Nagin and the other supporters of the plan, hope that this more modest approach will receive support, and serve as spurs to development for the rest of the city. Sure, without some effort to hold onto that elusive "affordable housing," the cause is completely lost. But what is the true impact of such half-hearted efforts? Have New Yorkers, and those Americans fortunate enough to be able to retain a good home, simply turned their thoughts elsewhere, and given up on the cause? Or is it that it's so hard for the overwhelming majority of Americans to find and hold onto that good home that "affordable housing" itself is just an illusion? When the subject is left to a few like-minded folks, they are forced to focus on fancy fliers, trying to sell to the community the "bones" that are all that is politically feasible.

The answer to these queries, like most involving land use, depend on who you ask. As for me, my solace came a few blocks after the fellow who wanted me to recycle my computer, where I found a pack of Girl Scouts selling their addictive cookies, allowing me the chance to lose myself from such heady subjects in the comfort of a handful of Thin Mints. At least for a little while.