micropolitan guy
Well-Known Member
Off on a tangent here, inspired by watching "Midlife Stockman," "Bargain Block," "The Wire" and other shows that frequently show blocks of abandoned housing in this country.
I despair at abandoned housing, I view it as such a failure when so many people in this country need affordable housing. Yes, I know the problem is far more complex than, "Just rehab abandoned housing and move families in," but there has to be some kind of a solution to match A (abandoned housing) with B (people who need affordable housing).
I see those houses (many of them beautiful at one point) on TV and think, it was not always so, they were once homes (there's a difference). In my imagination homes are living, breathing things. Families lived there, they celebrated birthdays, proms, anniversaries, etc., there. Those homes that now sit empty were full of life and laughter and tears and joy and hugs, not just deteriorating, abandoned buildings with trash strewn all about.
Kids played baseball, football, kick the can, over the line, capture the flag and other games in those overgrown back yards. Dads played catch with their children. Parents sat with their friends on the patios and porches and talked about their hopes and dreams. Dads washed their cars every weekend in the driveway.
Those houses were a dream come true for some guy on a European or Pacific or Korean or Vietnamese battlefield, just praying he could return to the US safely and start a family and start a life. They were a dream for the woman working for the "Arsenal of Democracy" while their husband, boyfriend, son or brother was away at war. They often were the first homes for families taking advantage of GI Bill housing benefits and starting to live the American dream.
Girls had their first kiss on the front steps of those abandoned homes, after being dropped off after a date. Children were conceived inside; some family members died inside. Kids parked their bikes in the driveway at night afer riding around the neighborhood, parents stood on the front steps and watched their children head off to school every morning. The father/mother could come home after a hard day of work, sit in the living room, crack open a beer and listen to a baseball game on the radio or turn on the TV.
Those forlorn mailboxes once held the college acceptance letters that changed lives, or the draft notices that, unfortunately, ultimately ended some. They held letters filled with news from grandparents, sisters, brothers, etc., who may have moved away. Sometimes, young men left those houses behind, headed off for military service and never returned.
The houses had soul, life, vitality and were part of the urban fabric and neighborhoods that helped mold millions of lives.
Sorry for the rant. I had a hard time falling asleep last night, and this just started percolating in my brain. It just kills me to see once-inhabited homes empty, abandoned and falling apart. A always wonder, "What ever happened for this to happen to such a nice home?'
I despair at abandoned housing, I view it as such a failure when so many people in this country need affordable housing. Yes, I know the problem is far more complex than, "Just rehab abandoned housing and move families in," but there has to be some kind of a solution to match A (abandoned housing) with B (people who need affordable housing).
I see those houses (many of them beautiful at one point) on TV and think, it was not always so, they were once homes (there's a difference). In my imagination homes are living, breathing things. Families lived there, they celebrated birthdays, proms, anniversaries, etc., there. Those homes that now sit empty were full of life and laughter and tears and joy and hugs, not just deteriorating, abandoned buildings with trash strewn all about.
Kids played baseball, football, kick the can, over the line, capture the flag and other games in those overgrown back yards. Dads played catch with their children. Parents sat with their friends on the patios and porches and talked about their hopes and dreams. Dads washed their cars every weekend in the driveway.
Those houses were a dream come true for some guy on a European or Pacific or Korean or Vietnamese battlefield, just praying he could return to the US safely and start a family and start a life. They were a dream for the woman working for the "Arsenal of Democracy" while their husband, boyfriend, son or brother was away at war. They often were the first homes for families taking advantage of GI Bill housing benefits and starting to live the American dream.
Girls had their first kiss on the front steps of those abandoned homes, after being dropped off after a date. Children were conceived inside; some family members died inside. Kids parked their bikes in the driveway at night afer riding around the neighborhood, parents stood on the front steps and watched their children head off to school every morning. The father/mother could come home after a hard day of work, sit in the living room, crack open a beer and listen to a baseball game on the radio or turn on the TV.
Those forlorn mailboxes once held the college acceptance letters that changed lives, or the draft notices that, unfortunately, ultimately ended some. They held letters filled with news from grandparents, sisters, brothers, etc., who may have moved away. Sometimes, young men left those houses behind, headed off for military service and never returned.
The houses had soul, life, vitality and were part of the urban fabric and neighborhoods that helped mold millions of lives.
Sorry for the rant. I had a hard time falling asleep last night, and this just started percolating in my brain. It just kills me to see once-inhabited homes empty, abandoned and falling apart. A always wonder, "What ever happened for this to happen to such a nice home?'
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