If you build it, they will come

As a person with disabilities, I am grateful for Skeeter.  Having a mobility scooter has allowed me get outside and stay aware of the changes in my neighborhood*. Not only is staying indoors boring, it makes me feel like a stranger in my environment, and my world seem smaller.  I knew there had been increased construction/remodeling activity in the 'hood'.  But, being able to scoot around helped me stay in the game of being a responsible resident.

Tear it down, build new

Historically, Lake Oswego began as a weekend retreat community with attractive, but small cottages housing the populace.  The structures became 'tear downs' as the land value increased and were replaced by larger homes.  New streets and building sites appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.  I had no idea there was any 'there, there'.

Typical of an affluent suburb with good schools, Lake Oswego is a desirable place to live and raise a family—providing any kind of diversity isn't on your list of requirements.  It's also within the urban growth boundary and evidently has some available property.  As the economy began to recover, the land developers came out in full force—big surprise.

I had to face up to my limited, first world perspective–not wanting our corner of paradise to ever change.  We had our property and now wanted to 'shut the gate' behind us.  However, since we didn't have either the inclination or funds to buy the available building sites, it was time to stop pouting. 

Elphaba

Street of Dreams, 2015

The big vacant field I scooted by was designated to be subdivided into at least 11 lots for next year's showcase of unaffordable homes, dubbed the 'Street of Dreams'.  Did I honestly think a large property with good view potential was going to remain untouched?  Really, Tam...get a grip.  Maybe this was a predictable transition from a rural to suburban to urban setting.  Just when I thought I was being fair and reasonable, accepting of inevitable progress... (blah, blah, blah), my Elphaba persona began to emerge**.  It had been awhile, but she was back.

How was this neighborhood going to absorb the increase in population and traffic?  Where was I going to scoot?  Where were the sidewalks going to go?  Would all the new development water flood my street?  Would I disappear someday into a construction–caused sinkhole?  While residents may have a long view of change, it was naive to think developers would share that.  It also occurred to me that this might also enhance our property value, if development was done with good vision. The struggle between 'residential perspective' and 'business perspective' was on.  I'm not an evaluator by nature, don't join committees (duh), but at least I could observe.  Armed with smartphone and scooter, I headed out.

Gut it, paint it, sell it.

New construction was proceeding at a startling pace, but so was remodeling of existing homes (like ours***).  I could see that people were taking a new look at their piece of paradise and opting to enhance it rather than sell and move.  Sometimes a simple facelift, sometimes a to-the-studs redo, sometimes they did sell and move.

The most annoying issue was the road closures.  People had to decide which route from Point A to point B worked best for their commute and hope the detour wasn't closed as well. 

Construction also means bad roads.  Fortunately, Skeeter's small footprint allows me to avoid most potholes.  But my teeth do chatter when the pavement gets rough.  The word is that they are going to fix the roads, but it seems foolhardy to make that assumption. 

Although I try to obey all traffic rules****, I find the construction flaggers don't have a clue what to do when they see me coming.  "Do we treat her like a car?  Bicycle?  Disabled? Old? Mentally impaired?  Should we say hello or nod,...say nothing?" I decided to adopt my usual, preemptive mode of behaving like a courteous cyclist, waving and saying thanks as I scooted by.  Skeeter heralded my disability.  Regarding age and mental acuity, the flaggers were on their own.


The lesson: Nothing is more constant than change.  Get over it, but pay attention.

*Previous post: The Northwest Scoot Route Garden Tour; paragraph 3
**Previous post: Intent...Not Content, paragraph 3
***Previous post: Bringing down the house—the rest of the story
****Previous post: Rules of the Road, paragraph 4