Pessimistic Politics: Get the Hell Out of My Suburb

For centuries, land has been a hot commodity for the human race. We really have an obsession with it, if the many wars over territory that dot our history is any indication. Can you blame us? You can have all the cool stuff in the world, but if you don’t have any place to put it, what’s the point? Considering that, if someone tries to take over our land, we understandably get really pissy about it.

The Native Americas really had a good idea about land: no one “owned” it, it was simply there to use. Of course, the Europeans came and wiped them all out, save for a few that managed to survive and produce a series of down-and-out offspring that the government makes a special point to ignore. You don’t even want to know how many billions our caring government owes these tribes, but that’s another article.

My point is that it’s kind of ironic that I, a white suburbanite male, am about to complain about land being taking away, especially when I don’t, technically, own it. But the land in question is pretty close to my house, which I don’t really own, either. I’ll just get on with the stupid article…

Currently, there’s major sewer construction going on down my street. When I say “major sewer construction,” I mean “a hole in the road big enough to hide a full-grown sperm whale in.” This construction is to put a new sewer line in for a new subdivision expansion that isn’t really in existence yet, but that doesn’t mean they can’t make a big hole in the ground for the occasion.

I’m not sure how many of you have had to put up with the inconvenience of subdivisions. In fact, I’m not sure all of you know what a subdivision is. So for all of you hardcore country folk and city slickers, here’s the basic concept: you have a road that cuts through a lot of land, maybe you have some houses along that road, maybe enough to fill most of the roadside up. Eventually, some big real estate outfit decides that no one wants to live on the main road, so they make a new road that leads to nothing but more houses, usually looping around and back to the original road. The land along this new road usually costs a lot of money, because it’s only meant for the privileged few who are allowed to live away from the old junky main road. This is the subdivision.

I hate it when they start new developments. Not only does it create confusion and traffic tie-ups, they also look ugly as dirt (literally) for the first five years or so after they go in. These subdivisions usually have mounds of dirt all around, huge, mighty chunks that bare no small resemblance to Goliath droppings. And then there’s all the discarded construction material that litters the area like some architect frat party came on through the night before. I can’t imagine why anyone would pay good money to live like this, but then again, I’m not a hip and trending suburbanite, so what do I know?

Although I’d consider living in one of the finished subdivisions (hey, the land’s already ruined, so I might as well use it), I imagine that there’s a lot of pressure involved. For one, you have a lot of rich dorks living really close to you. Some of these houses are so close together that there’s a solid chance that your children will be sleeping ten feet from where the couple next door has sex. Another problem is that you have to keep up your lawn with precision, cutting each blade of grass precisely the same height and making sure there aren’t any weeds within visual range of your house, or people will look at you like you’re Papa Jethro fresh from hog farm. If I had to live with this kind of pressure, I’d probably snap and take a flaming stick to my neighbors. Actually, I’d probably take a flaming stick to the neighbors anyway, because it sounds like a lot of fun.

There’s not much pressure at my house to keep the lawn up. As long as the grass doesn’t grow taller than the trees and the weeds don’t start attacking passing joggers, I’ve done all I can. I’m pretty lax about it. I’ll routinely chuck everything from old sausages to pizza crusts to whole wedding cakes out onto the back lawn for the birds and other critters to eat. It may sound crude, but don’t knock it until you’ve seen a squirrel and a robin engaged in mortal combat over a pile of decade-old tortilla chips.

Most of you probably think I’m being overly critical about these developments, but that’s only because your road doesn’t personally have one of them growing on it. In the span of my twenty-two years, there have been four subdivisions built in the mile of road that’s my block, taking the number from zero to four if you count the new one. Three of these were in the last eight years or so, and two of those haven’t been completely filled and still consist of mostly droppings and building materials. Hell, the last one was just built last year. That didn’t stop the real estate company from expanding it, though.

This annoys me, because there are plenty of good places to live in the city that don’t require building a whole new house. I hate it when they do this, because a lot of good farm land goes up in smoke. Like most places, my town of Oregon, Ohio used to have a lot of farming, but, of course, the farmers realized that they could make more money selling their land then growing beets. As luck would have it, one of the last active farms happens to surround my house, which means I’m basically ground zero for the next subdivision air strike when the owners figure out where the real money is.

Frankly, I don’t care if there’s just a field of grass taking up space. When I see a grassy clearing, I see one of the few places that mankind hasn’t got around to destroying just yet (okay there were probably trees there before. Shut up). The problem is, the real estate guys see unutilized land resources that they must boldly utilize at the risk of making gobs of money. They have a fleet of bulldozers, a pack of lawyers, and the legal system on their side, while I have a bundle of hardy sticks, an iron pipe, and some really bad swords made in Pakistan. Who do you think is going to win?

So before long, when this latest suburb is finished, a new flock of rich families will fly into this subdivision, making their nests and more traffic. I don’t want to sound unneighborly here, but I have a humble suggestion: go live someplace else.

It frankly baffles me why real estate companies are waiting for farmers to croak in order to buy their land off ungrateful heirs when a greater (and, more importantly, more immediate) solution lies in the neighboring big city of Toledo. You should see all of the abandon buildings around this town! The real estate companies look at these and see a poor investment. I see a perfect place to cash in by selling these places to potential suburbanites.

As much fun as it would be to cram a family of white conservative Christians into one of these urban palaces (“Billy, DO NOT throw those discarded syringes at your sister!”), my solution is a little more practical. Why don’t the real estate companies go in, knock down a cluster of these buildings, and make a suburb in their place? I mean, we’ve already ruined the land to put the buildings in there in the first place, so why not just reuse the space? Before long, most of the downtown area would be transformed into a huge suburban wonderland, generating millions for all the parties involved. I’m sure the Toledo officials would ignore any city ordinance (if I remember, it’s against ordinance to tear down buildings in the downtown area) when they see the bundles of cash sitting on their desks.

I’m sure that the homeless and people who can only afford to live in the city would complain, but I’m certain the money generated from the new subdivisions would be able to pay for housing of some kind for those who can’t afford the cutthroat life of suburbia. Then again, we are talking about greedy corporations, so maybe things wouldn’t go over too well for the desuetude after all. Charity does not a profit make.

But I’m confident this is a great idea overall, so I’m going to name it and claim it as my own, even though I’m sure it’s been done before, though that’s not going to stop me. It shall be know as “urban de-newal,” and I’m charging $50,000 to anyone who uses this concept on any scale, including putting a new sink faucet in a city apartment. I’ll make millions of dollars off of this and will join my fellow rich snobs in the subdivision down the street.

Except I’m buying a house in a subdivision that’s been around for a while, because I’m not fond of having a lawn ornaments crafted by Goliath.