Month: July 2016

OTR Housing: Families Need Not Apply

~ ejmcewan ~ 1 Comment

The issue of family-friendly housing and urban development is nothing new. It’s been an ongoing conversation in urban planning circles ever since the middle- and upper-classes decided they wanted to move back into the city and city planners decided it might be a good idea to entice them to do so.

Cities used to be full of housing stock that appealed to families of every demographic and income level. But the latter half of the 20th Century decimated our cities’ diversified housing by paving over workforce housing, tenement buildings, and large historic multi-family buildings with surface parking lots and corporate headquarters for commuter business owners and their commuter employees. The working class and middle class were now happy in their comfortable and spacious suburbs, the poor were shuffled into isolated and subsidized ghettos, and the wealthy urban dwellers ruled the urban core.

Times have changed and, responding to the desires of both a new generation of city-lovers and aging Boomers who no longer need the school systems the suburban tax-base supports, city planners and property developers have started taking a more diverse group of housing-seekers into consideration.

Supposedly, the people holding and renovating what remains of the available housing stock in my neighborhood, for example, are interested in leaving space for more than young urban professionals and wealthy empty-nesters.

Or so they say.

Take, as a case study of sorts, the recent experience of a friend of mine from the neighborhood.

A few years ago, this family purchased and began renovations on a small-ish multi-use property just a block off of the booming Vine St. business corridor. The building was completed a year or so later and the commercial space became a low-risk pop-up-shop venue. The two studio apartments on the second floor became rental units (and eventually Airbnb units). The family of six moved into the third floor.

The family’s living quarters is small.
One bedroom, two baths, a comfortable kitchen, small bits of living space, and a semi-finished attic flex space for storage and whatever else they need it for.

Time passed and, about 18 months after the family moved in, they decided it was time to sell the property. This was partially because they were facing a job change and wanted to relinquish some financial responsibility. Partially because they were tired and overwhelmed by managing both the commercial space and the rental units. And partially because they wanted a little more space for their family.

The property was listed for sale and my friend started hunting for rental housing in the neighborhood to line up for the family if the building sells.

Which brings me to the issue at-hand.

Long story short, my friend has been met with not one, not two, but three separate property management companies in Over-the-Rhine who will not rent an apartment to them because their rental policies will not allow more than four people in a two bedroom apartment (regardless of the square footage) and (surprise!) not a single 3-bedroom apartments exists in their portfolio.

Okay, so first of all:
This doesn’t mean it’s the end of the road for my friend. She has a few options, including finding an independent landlord who has a single-family home or larger apartment to rent and doesn’t mind housing a larger family. But the chances are slim and the situation feels hopeless. For example: there is one 3-bedroom apartment (*ahem–a 2-bedroom with a study) currently available in the neighborhood, but it’s going rate is $3,000 a month.

But, even if she secures an apartment for her family, her situation illustrates a few important things that I’ve always said about the future of cities and of Over-the-Rhine, specifically.

– If urban planners and developers really want a vibrant, thriving urban core, they absolutely must make it more welcoming to families. I had some ideas a few years ago about how to attract and retain urban families and, were I to rewrite that post, I could probably add a few more.

– There is a huge disparity between available housing for the highest and lowest income level residents when compared to what is available for middle-income families. My recent housing search in the 45202 zip code (excluding Mt Adams and East End) yielded zero rental units larger than 2 bedrooms. And there is not currently one condo or single-family home with more than 2 bedrooms selling for less than $240,000. (Most are listed between $500,000-$700,000.)

What does this mean?
This means that, apart from any low-income subsidized housing (which, I believe, is not publicly listed), assuming most prescribe to this “two to a bedroom” policy, there may be almost zero landlords in OTR willing to rent to a family with more than two children. And, if a family wants to purchase a 3-bedroom home instead of renting, they will need to be in the top 20% income bracket in our city. (Or, they can try their hand at purchasing vacant land to build on, but I could tell you another story or two about the nightmare that is for the average, middle-income, not in the OTR “in-group” resident.)

I’ve written more about this “missing middle” problem here and here because I saw it coming from a mile away. In fact, it’s perfectly illustrated by the fact that one of the largest in-the-works housing developments in our neighborhood, in an area of OTR that has historically been home to lower-income residents, does not seem to include a single 3-bedroom housing unit.

– The people developing property in our neighborhood need a bigger, better vision for what a vibrant, diverse neighborhood actually looks like. It’s getting harder and harder to believe that any of these developers are motivated by anything other than the bottom line and what type/size housing unit can make them the most money. It’s all lip service. And it’s disappointing.

I read this article back in January about how cities could possibly design themselves out of the affordable housing crisis by bringing back the “missing middle” of housing. The idea struck me as so obvious and economical, but so “radical” that it seems impossible. Because, honestly, why would you build a reasonably-outfitted townhouse that sells for $220,000 when you can add a few faux-custom finishes and list it for $600,000? It would take a truly visionary homebuilder and developer to be so brave.

*As a sidenote, I am fascinated by the Betts-Longworth and City West districts of the West End for this very reason. They have the potential to be a model for a truly diverse, affordable neighborhood with all the amenities of urban living. I’d love to hear some thoughts about why City West seems to have flopped. I have some thoughts myself, but I don’t really know enough of the back story. It’s important to note, though, that real estate in these two districts has been moving faster in the past 2 years, housing values are rising, and they really could end up a (slow-moving) success story. It seems to be the commercial, not the residential, element that is holding it back.

 

And, on a larger scale, this “we can’t rent you an apartment because your family is too big” situation really begs some unfortunate questions about our American society, in general.

Among them:

– Why do we think 1500-2,000 square feet is too small for a family of 6? My guess is that a lot of the single-family housing that has been lost in OTR over the last century was about that size and, at the time of use, was housing far more than 4 people. (Seriously, check this out.)

American families keep getting smaller and our houses keep getting larger. Look at the numbers. It’s absurd how much space we think we need these days. This is why developers don’t want to build 3-bedroom units; they would need to be huge to satisfy the desires of the average 21st Century American family.

And, trust me, the average wealthy family of four doesn’t want to live in a 2-bedroom home anyway. So trying to market a $300,000 2-BR, single-family home in OTR “for a family” is a lost cause. This is what leads me to believe that developers never wanted families in the first place. They are smarter than that.

Which begs the question:

– Where on earth did Americans get the idea that children can not/should not share bedrooms? American families have absurd standards of privacy and personal space found in few places on the planet. If I want to let my four kids sleep in the same room, why is that a big deal? Sure, I know I’ll feel differently when my kids are teenagers and smell bad and want more privacy. But, families adapt as their needs change and good parents get creative with limited space (and resources). Shouldn’t it be up to the parents to decide what is best for their family? I mean, geez, some of my neighbors are living in one bedroom apartments with dogs the size of middleschoolers. But it’s not okay to throw an extra kid or two in a room with their sisters?

– And, then, anecdotally-speaking: Why is it now more socially acceptable to take your dog into the local coffeeshop or to the neighborhood bar than it is to live in a walk-up apartment with more than two children?

Welcome to OTR, circa 2016.
Families need not apply.

 

 

 

Saying Yes, Saying No, and Dealing With What Comes Next

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

What if I told you that one of the most difficult parts of adulthood is not the big life decisions you make but the daily decision to stick it out and deal faithfully with what comes on the other side?

 

My generation is plagued by two major lifestyle errors:

The fear of commitment.
Serial monogamy.

One is floundering in impermanence, afraid to make a promise or commitment. They live with the presumption that only the most perfect decision is one worth making and are constantly in fear of missing the big opportunity just around the corner. They are tentative. They are dispassionate. They are impotent and indifferent.

The other is always in love. They believe perfection has already arrived and jump in 110% before testing the water. But, then, when a glimmer of “better” or “brighter” appears around the bend, they move on as quickly as they moved in. They are passionate. They are present. But then they are gone in an instant.

No, this isn’t just about sex and relationships.
This is about all of life–love, friendship, careers, community life.

I see it and I understand it because I’ve felt it every time I’ve been faced with a big life decision: where to attend college, what degree to pursue, what job to take, what guy to date, where to live, who to marry, etc.

But let me share some of the greatest lessons I’ve learned here on the flip side of those big, scary life decisions:

Even good decisions carry difficult consequences.
All great pursuits in life require sacrifice.
Every “yes” requires a “no.”
Something better and brighter is always around the bend.
You can never go back, but you can always move forward.

 

 

About 6 months ago, my husband and I finally had the conversation I’d been not-so-secretly avoiding:

“Are we ready for another baby?”

In short, the decision was “No, absolutely not. But we want this more than we don’t want this. And we believe this is a ‘good’ thing and that we will never regret it. And we aren’t getting any younger.”

The longer version of the story would look something like a storm–equal parts hurricane and tornado–swirling through my head, weighing pros and cons and calculating dates and family budgets, alternately avoiding and then pursing my husband, anxieties and fears and subtle jolts of excitement. (Notice: I obviously tend toward “fear of commitment.”)

Even good decisions carry difficult consequences.

Deciding to have a fourth child felt like staring ahead into my future, weighing the value of the path I was on, and turning right around and taking two big year-long steps back. It meant another round of pregnancy, another round of sleepless nights with an infant, another two years of lending my body to a nursing baby, another couple years of putting myself and my dreams and my work and my friendships on standby for the sake of a child, and it meant another couple years of distance between me and my husband.

Is it worth the sacrifice?
All great pursuits in life require sacrifice.

Ask anyone who has ever trained for a marathon or aced an important exam whether the sacrifice was worth the early mornings or the late nights or the aches and pains and headaches.

Yes, it was worth it.

And since I believe that children are worth far more than finished races and completed degrees, my late nights and aches and pains and headaches are going to be spent on them for now. For this season. For as long as it takes. Until it’s time to move on.

Because every “yes” requires a “no.”

And, so, there are seasons of life in which we really can’t have it all. We must choose. And choosing something important often means saying “no” to something else. Marriage is the perfect example of this truth. We stand publicly, before God and witnesses, and promise our commitment, our future, to one person. “Forsaking all others,” we say. And if we don’t mean it, then we have no business participating in such a sacred act.

But there is a secret truth that you’d better understand before you make such an outrageous promise:

Something better and brighter is always around the bend.

Truth is: I am not the most beautiful or virtuous woman my husband has ever known. And he is not the most handsome or charming man I’ve ever known. And, truth is, there will always be someone “better,” someone brighter, or someone more exciting around the bend. (Just like there is always a better job, a better house, a better friend, and so on and so on.)

Making a solid commitment to something or someone means saying “I choose you now. And I choose you tomorrow. And I will choose you the next day…” and it requires a daily decision to be faithful to the promise made.

You can either pretend this isn’t true and that you’ve already found the “one perfect thing” you were searching for (like a serial monogamist) or this can scare the crap out of you and leave you immobile and afraid to ever choose anything (like a commitment-phobe).

Or you can just accept it as truth, lean on wisdom, and then walk confidently into big decisions with eyes open, willing to be faithful to your decision and deal with what comes next.

But what comes next? Because certainly not everyone who makes “a good decision” comes out feeling good about it on the other end. Some people struggle through parenthood. Some couples have miserable marriages. Some people despise their careers or regret the path they chose.

Thankfully, not all of our life decisions are permanent the way marriage and parenthood are. But even temporary decisions can weigh heavily on us and, when they don’t pay off the way we’d hoped, can make us question the sacrifices we’ve made along the way. This is why part of walking through disappointments in life means knowing when a step forward requires moving on.

You can never go back, but you can always move forward.

And part of dealing with what comes after big decisions in life is keeping your eyes focused in the right direction.

When I take stock of my life and the decisions I’ve made, the worst of my past fears come to life when my eyes are focused backwards (on the things I’ve given up) or sideways in comparison with my peers (on the things I could have instead). But when I am focused here–on my life, my family, my calling, my worthy pursuits–I see that each decision and each step is building a life in which the sum is much greater than the parts.

Basically, what I’m building here–with this man in this home with these kids–is bigger than the pieces that I had to give up along the way. And someday, when I am old enough and wise enough to look back on my life without being afraid of regret or comparison, I’ll see the fruit of the sacrifices we’ve made.

And, even now, when some days are harder than others and I feel like I’m surrounded by reminders of all I’m missing out on by choosing this and not that, God extends an extra measure of grace and gives me a taste of the fruit I’m cultivating with my life.

Maybe it’s a kind word from a friend or a smile from a stranger.
Or it could be a reassuring moment with my husband or a moment of breakthrough with my child.

Even if it’s just enough of a taste for one more day’s worth of faithfulness to my “yes” and “no,” then it’s enough.

To Frederick, On The Occasion Of Your 90th Birthday

~ ejmcewan ~ Leave a comment

Frederick-

I discovered you first in a literature class about thirteen years ago. The class was called Faith & Doubt and you and your Sacred Journey were hidden among other greats by Shakespeare, Dante, and Milton.

I was somewhere around twenty years old and, with thirteen years of faith under my belt, was now deep and dark into a season of doubt. I was confused and angry and, studying among people for whom faith was an unspoken expectation rather than a matter of patience and cultivation, I felt misunderstood and alone.

Have you ever met someone for the first time and, in a matter of only moments, found that there is some deep soul comradery between you that makes you feel instantly like kin rather than strangers? With whom the conversation comes with ease and familiarity? Have you ever had a friend for whom you didn’t need to explain yourself? With whom a mutual understanding made them a place of comfort and rest when the rest of the world felt tense and turbulent?

Your story is different than mine.
But beneath the story I read in that class and the many stories I’ve read of yours since, I found something I desperately needed. I found someone who understood the soul longing that I felt but couldn’t express because the only words I had to use were hopeless words and I still had hope.

You helped me find the place where faith and doubt are a dance, not a battle.

When I discovered you, I found the words to give life to my doubt in a way that let me move through it instead of wallowing in it, words that let me be honest and brave and audacious enough to believe that I could be my crooked, confused, heart-broken self and still be counted among the saints.

And you let me say it all out loud. You showed me it could be done. (Thank you.)

There were a few years during which your words were the only words I could use. You helped me learn to pray again. And I still appeal to you often when I don’t know what to say. When my prayers don’t come easy. Or when the world is scary and painful and I wish I knew how to comfort a hurting friend.

Or when I need to be reminded that I’m not the only one of the disciples still sleeping with one eye open and my hand on my wallet. I see you. I’m here, too. And there are many more here with us.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Buechner.
You’ve given more than you know.

 

 

 

*On the occasion of his 90th birthday (which falls on July 11th), Frederick Buechner has released Buechner 101, a curated collection of sermons and essays. Get yourself a copy for a window into his world.

For a quick (Liz McEwan-curated) Frederick Buechner primer, start with the sermon “The Magnificent Defeat” (which can be read in its entirety here) or, for a taste of fiction, try Godric.

Preachers start here.
Writers start here.
People with short attention spans can start here.