Addison, there are three ultimate values in Christian tradition: truth, beauty, goodness. You don't love urban life because it is morally good, you love it because it is beautiful to contemplate and experience. For me, beauty is also my favorite. Those old guys enjoying the glass of wine and fresh air are also savoring beauty.
“In that frame, suburbia sort of spoils us with facile convenience with no payoff. I think it’s interesting that we suburban upper-middle-class kids were raised with these virtues—work ethic, delayed gratification, living below your means, swallowing discomfort and putting in your best effort—and yet in a lot of ways living in an urban community is a great way to actually practice them. In other words, urbanism can entail a kind of good discomfort or good friction.” ——> oh my gooooodness yes.
Raised upper middle class in the suburbs (and honestly I appreciate so much) but life was SO easy. Going back home I realize how frictionless the whole experience is. My younger brother and his wife had been living the past few years on her grandfather’s dairy farm, and my brother absolutely fell in love with the work and friction and resourcefulness required to live that way and tend what you have. My sister-in-law once said whenever they buy a house it will have to have at least some land to tinker with and do stuff on, because he’s now a hardworking farmer at heart and finds suburbia so damn stifling and boring. Ha
The parallels between the flexibility and resourcefulness of urban living and rural living are obviously different in many ways, but they seem to have more in common as to the type of person it requires or creates than, say, your average suburb. So I understand the appeal of those two “extremes”.
Working with animals kicks up mini-problems to solve every day. You have to be resourceful, creative, and responsible. I don't think caring for plants would be quite as interesting, but my mother sure liked it.
Observing the trajectory of my own hometown (Wallingford, CT; est. 1670) often generates similar thoughts. Wallingford has that classic Main Street with a walkable downtown, a legacy of its manufacturing heyday and connection to the railroads and a regional streetcar network. Its recognizable urban form of course did not extend beyond the historic downtown during the era of post-war suburbanization, as car-centric subdivisions gobbled up much of the developable farmland. That process seems to have peaked around 2000, while the town's population peaked around 2010; today, they are talking about consolidating the two high schools as they project a future with fewer children and fewer overall people.
Wallingford, like most of Connecticut, is zoned almost exclusively for large-lot single-family housing. Since there's not a lot of land left on which to build that, the town has sort of maxed out its housing capacity, which invariably means as the younger generation grows up and starts families, they're doing it elsewhere. As their parents age, the workforce will likewise shrink, and the town will become a glorified retirement community, which will lead to economic decline. No new buildings have been built downtown, as far as I can tell, in my entire life.
By not allowing the town to naturally evolve, to gently densify, Wallingford has essentially zoned out its future. I think dynamism, evolution, growth—whatever we want to call it—is an essential aspect of urbanism. By preserving the historic, suburban form as it is, by stifling natural growth and rejuvenation, the town is accepting long-term decay, which puts it at risk of eventually becoming a blank slate, a dead place. Not embracing some kind of reform, some kind of change, does not prevent change from happening—it will just be for the worse!
Do you really think you're going to get the idealization of change that's inside your head? Have we not ordered a familiar dish off a new menu and what got served up didn't match what we pictured? What a bring down it can be! Small niches of "old town" may be ripe for transformation, but they may also be culturally intact, coherent, meaningful, and vivacious just as they are "before the flood" of any alteration.
Addison, there are three ultimate values in Christian tradition: truth, beauty, goodness. You don't love urban life because it is morally good, you love it because it is beautiful to contemplate and experience. For me, beauty is also my favorite. Those old guys enjoying the glass of wine and fresh air are also savoring beauty.
“In that frame, suburbia sort of spoils us with facile convenience with no payoff. I think it’s interesting that we suburban upper-middle-class kids were raised with these virtues—work ethic, delayed gratification, living below your means, swallowing discomfort and putting in your best effort—and yet in a lot of ways living in an urban community is a great way to actually practice them. In other words, urbanism can entail a kind of good discomfort or good friction.” ——> oh my gooooodness yes.
Raised upper middle class in the suburbs (and honestly I appreciate so much) but life was SO easy. Going back home I realize how frictionless the whole experience is. My younger brother and his wife had been living the past few years on her grandfather’s dairy farm, and my brother absolutely fell in love with the work and friction and resourcefulness required to live that way and tend what you have. My sister-in-law once said whenever they buy a house it will have to have at least some land to tinker with and do stuff on, because he’s now a hardworking farmer at heart and finds suburbia so damn stifling and boring. Ha
The parallels between the flexibility and resourcefulness of urban living and rural living are obviously different in many ways, but they seem to have more in common as to the type of person it requires or creates than, say, your average suburb. So I understand the appeal of those two “extremes”.
Working with animals kicks up mini-problems to solve every day. You have to be resourceful, creative, and responsible. I don't think caring for plants would be quite as interesting, but my mother sure liked it.
Observing the trajectory of my own hometown (Wallingford, CT; est. 1670) often generates similar thoughts. Wallingford has that classic Main Street with a walkable downtown, a legacy of its manufacturing heyday and connection to the railroads and a regional streetcar network. Its recognizable urban form of course did not extend beyond the historic downtown during the era of post-war suburbanization, as car-centric subdivisions gobbled up much of the developable farmland. That process seems to have peaked around 2000, while the town's population peaked around 2010; today, they are talking about consolidating the two high schools as they project a future with fewer children and fewer overall people.
Wallingford, like most of Connecticut, is zoned almost exclusively for large-lot single-family housing. Since there's not a lot of land left on which to build that, the town has sort of maxed out its housing capacity, which invariably means as the younger generation grows up and starts families, they're doing it elsewhere. As their parents age, the workforce will likewise shrink, and the town will become a glorified retirement community, which will lead to economic decline. No new buildings have been built downtown, as far as I can tell, in my entire life.
By not allowing the town to naturally evolve, to gently densify, Wallingford has essentially zoned out its future. I think dynamism, evolution, growth—whatever we want to call it—is an essential aspect of urbanism. By preserving the historic, suburban form as it is, by stifling natural growth and rejuvenation, the town is accepting long-term decay, which puts it at risk of eventually becoming a blank slate, a dead place. Not embracing some kind of reform, some kind of change, does not prevent change from happening—it will just be for the worse!
Do you really think you're going to get the idealization of change that's inside your head? Have we not ordered a familiar dish off a new menu and what got served up didn't match what we pictured? What a bring down it can be! Small niches of "old town" may be ripe for transformation, but they may also be culturally intact, coherent, meaningful, and vivacious just as they are "before the flood" of any alteration.