Walk-In Closets

Walk-in closets are like the cul du sac of home architecture: temporarily popular, but ultimately a huge waste of space.

People should probably just stop hoarding so much stuff that they (think they) need a walk-in closet, but even if that doesn't happen there are so many better, more versatile ways to store things. Like an armoire, for example.

I would bet money that in not very long, walk-in closets will be way out of vogue, much as city planners now look down on the surreal tract housing neighborhoods that produced the American cul du sacs. For now at least, walk-in closets seem to be a still-popular vestige of the ignominious McMansion.

If I ever remodel my home, I'm not only going to avoid installing walk-in closets, I'm going to rip out the existing small closets. I will only use armoires, and my house will be all the better for it.

Provo Post 1: Introduction

I've lived in Provo almost continuously since 2003. (Traveling abroad has taken me out of the city on a couple of occasions for months at a time.) For most of my time in Provo I have lived in the historic Joaquin neighborhood. I also lived in Provo for a year from 2000 to 2001, and I was born in Provo in the early 80s. For what it's worth (not much to some, more to others) I'm also a descendant of the prominent families that founded and built the city up.

I've decided to write a few blog posts on Provo, which because of my background is both my native and adoptive home. It is not my favorite city on earth, but it is my favorite city among those in which I have been a long term resident. I also believe that despite what many people say, it is not "lame" or boring, and that it is definitely getting better and better.

I want to write these posts because Provo seems to be approaching a unique and exciting moment. It frequently ranks as a good place to live, a city with promising economic prospects, and a place that is projected to grow dramatically in coming years. On the other hand, there obviously are a lot of competing visions about what Provo should be. The neighborhood where I just bought a house (and where I had been living for years) has been roiled by controversy over a recent change in paving laws. Provo's downtown is pathetic (but improving). Many aspects of the youth culture — including successful businesses— are seemingly marginalized, or worse, but government and older residents. As someone who is choosing to live in Provo, I have strong opinions about all of these issues, and others.

For my part, I’ve lived in the city as an undergrad, a grad student, a working professional, a home owner, a musician, a filmmaker, and a bunch of other things. I recently bought an old home on a tree-lined street. I was attracted to the city by the music scene, the (unfortunately ebbing and flowing) arts scene, the bike-ability, the climate, and other things. So there's a brief introduction for anyone (or no one?) who cares.

The Laundry Chute

I just used the laundry chute at my house. Yes, you read that correctly. The laundry chute. At my house. As in, a classy and discrete hole that drops dirty clothing from one floor to another.

Going Home Culture

Throughout my time as a college undergrad I was puzzled and slightly intrigued by my friends who had families near by. As a Californian living in Utah, seeing my family was a two or three times a year affair. I’d go home during Thanksgiving and Christmas, and maybe during summer, but for the most part I didn’t see them much.

That, however, contrasted significantly with my friends from Utah who went home at least several times a month. In the case of my roommates I’d always notice them taking their laundry and coming home from Sunday dinner with leftovers. I have to admit that in many ways I was envious of these friends; they obviously had the opportunity to cultivate a stronger relationship with their families, and they also saved money by eating their parent’s food and using their parent’s washing machine.

Though my family lived in California for years, just as I graduated they moved to Utah and I subsequently began to experience the decidedly different culture that exists among family members living within driving distance of each other. Of course, I was recently married by this time and no longer an undergrad, but I still began to do many of the things I’d seen my friends do before. I started taking advantage of my parent’s washing machine. Laura and I started going (and continue to go) to dinner at my family’s house nearly every week. Occasionally we go hang out with them or do things for family night.

As we’ve done this I’ve been surprised at the difference between having family far away and having them nearby. Though that difference was apparent to me before when I had experienced only one of those two options, I don’t think I could fully appreciate it until my family moved to Utah.

For example, as Laura and I prepare to visit her family for Christmas she mentioned how we might not want to bring piles of dirty laundry home (though we have done this in the past and may still in the future). We also don’t think of Laura’s parent’s home as a source of delicious free food.

More seriously however, the kind of relationship that is fosters between family members is largely contingent on how often they communicate and through what medium. The actual conversations that we have with my family, for example, are affected by how much time we spend at their home. It’s also obvious to see how the various things going on in our lives (school, work, stress generally, etc.) changes the kind of relationship we have. On the other hand, a fair amount of time we spend with Laura’s family is going to inevitably be reserved for catching up and/or reasserting the familiar connection we feel.

All of this is really just to say that distance still plays a significant factor in the kind of relationships people can have. Though the Internet and other technologies continue to “shrink” the world, I don’t think they actually allow relationship to transcend or circumvent distance. I’m not arguing that one kind of relationship is better (be it long or short), but that no matter how many phone calls a person makes to their long distance family they can never have the same kind of “going home” culture as a person with family nearby and vice versa.

No Fences In Cedar Hills

Laura and I have been spending a lot of time lately at my parents house in Cedar Hills, Utah. In the past, I've used Cedar Hills as a kind of poster city for the problems inherent in suburban living. While I continue to be shocked and disappointed at how damaging that lifestyle is (environmentally, socially, etc.), there is one unique thing that I really like about my parent's neighborhood: no fences.

When I first visited my parents home after they moved there in 2007 I was at once disappointed and pleasantly surprised. First, I was disappointed because the houses in the neighborhood weren't atypically interesting; though it didn't shock me, they're all pretty much like those any newish housing development. However, what amazed me then and impresses me now is that there are relatively few partitions between the homes. Each house technically has a yard, but for the most part they all run together. The result is that the houses all kind of feel like they're in a park. This also has the added benefit of making the fairly small yards feel spacious. 

Besides making people believe their yard is bigger than it actually is, there seem to be a number of benefits to not having fences. For example, it makes getting from point A to B much faster and more convenient; instead of going around the houses (on the frustratingly winding streets) a person could just cut through all the open yards. (Some people have tried to stop others from doing this, which is really unfortunate.) This also has the potential benefit of encouraging people to walk places instead of drive because the distance can be so much shorter on foot. (And I shouldn't have to mention all the reasons why walking is superior to driving.)

More abstractly, a lack of fences seems to be an argument for community interaction. While suburban architecture seems specifically designed to separate (and therefore isolate, and thus alienate) people, breaking down the barriers between properties symbolically breaks down the barriers between people. Inevitably residents will see and interact more often with their neighbors if there are no fences. I don't think it's a far stretch to suggest that that interaction will engender greater empathy and interest among residents. Just last week while at my parents house I noticed how I could actually see into the neighbor's house at night (and presumably they could see into my parents house). Admittedly, that raises questions about voyeurism and the like, but it also served as a reminder that there were people all around me. I wasn't in an isolated little island of personal space. I was sharing an environment with other people. As a non-resident of the area I don't really have a relationship with the people in the neighborhood, but the lack of fences nevertheless seems to be a promising way to combat the social entropy that some claim is inherent in suburbia. 

Unfortunately, fences are slowly going up in Cedar Hills. Some seem to be designed to keep pets in, while others look like they're simply to prevent people from cutting across the yard. Though I hope it doesn't happen, I wouldn't be surprised if in five or ten years all the houses in the area had fences. Still, keeping the neighborhood open is a good idea. Suburban living is perhaps the least efficient and socially conscious lifestyle out there, but if tearing down fences doesn't make anything greener it at least encourages people to see themselves first and foremost as members of a community. Ultimately then, in this case and unlike other suburbs across the nation, Cedar Hills has figured something out that surprisingly begins chip away at the problems of suburban life. 

Living With Family

Ever since the financial meltdown last year I’ve seen a lot of down-on-their-luck stories on various news websites.  Not surprisingly, one of the stories that keeps coming up describes people who have lost their homes and are forced to move in with family members.  While I don’t doubt the difficulty of this situation or the heartbreak of losing a home, I’ve also begun to wonder if concentrating a large, extended family in one location is such a bad thing after all. 

 

Most people I know in the U.S. eventually strike out on their own.  For example, I left home when I was eighteen and though I didn’t become financially independent for a number of years, I also never moved back.  In fact the idea of moving back home and living with my parents is a little bit disturbing to me.  This pattern and mentality seem fairly typical.  Not only that, they seem to represent the desirable norm; its not hard to think of people (fictional or not) who live with their parents and are thusly looked down on.

 

Even if this is the standard pattern in the U.S. today, it isn’t as common in other parts of the world or in the past.  My first hand experiences in Brazil and Great Briton, as well as my understanding of history, lead me to believe that a more common worldwide (and historical) pattern is for people to live with or near their parents for generation after generation.  If that fact doesn’t necessarily change what we contemporary Americans want to do, it at least indicates that people can lead happy, fulfilling lives whether they strike out on their own or live close to home.

 

The question as I see it then, is if adults are better off living in larger family units or only with their partners (and children).  In my case, after having been conditioned all my life to look down on living with my family, I imagine it would be difficult to ever return home.  However, if we as a society began to look more critically at this idea and see its possible advantages I think we might  find that those advantages may outweigh any sacrifices.  Obviously living in larger numbers means less privacy, personal freedom, and personal space.  On the other hand it may also mean less loneliness, greater division of labor, and a stronger family culture.  It may just be possible that the pros of living with family outweigh the cons. 

 

Ultimately Americans seem to conceive of themselves in highly individualistic terms.  As long as we continue to think that way, any loss of individuality will seem like a disaster.  Having to give up the freedom of financial prosperity (and the homes that prosperity provides) will be a dehumanizing experience that robs people of their identity and makes them a burden on those around them.  (It’s no surprise, then, that many of the stories about the economic crisis have focused on the disruption that adult offspring cause in the lives of their parents, as well as the tendency to revert back to adolescent behavior once at home.)

 

However, I think that it’s possible to see ourselves not as detached individuals but as members of larger communities and/or families.  This probably won’t make losing a job or a home less painful, but it may mitigate the impact on people’s self-perception and the difficulty of living with family.  In other words, if we conceive of ourselves as members of a family or community first, and homeowners or professionals second, our identity will no longer be based on the caprice of the capitalist economy.  What’s more, if we start to think of ourselves in this way living with our families starts to seem like less of a set back and more of a return to our homelands and our heritage.