The switch to renewables requires a redesign of American life

On the way down to Nashville for the Hutchmoot we stopped for lunch at a friend’s home near Kansas City. While there I began looking at a magazine called World, as I recall. I glanced at an article in the publication pointing at holes in the recent plans for renewable energy.

The long and short of what my skimming told me — I didn’t have time to finish the article — Renewable energy such as wind and solar won’t work for the cars we drive. No kidding! The article also, if I recall correctly, pointed out that these energy sources won’t even provide enough electricity, even if they are developed to the nth degree, to meet our current electricity needs.

I’ve made the point on the blog before, as I recall, that we need to revamp the culture and our environmental design in order to get to where most or all of our energy needs come from renewable sources. We can’t work from the assumption that we can maintain the cultural status quo while at the same time switching over to renewable sources of energy. Instead, we must become creative in all aspects of our lives. Developing more efficient lifestyles seems like common sense to me — regardless of where our energy is coming from (Per my cursory skim the magazine article suggested nuclear, but I’d still rather see other avenues developed further along with more intentionally efficient living.).

Cameraphone capture of part of a wind turbine, going down I-80 on our way home from Nashville.

On our way down to the Hutchmoot last week, my wife and I were introduced to Rodney and Sidney Wright. Rodney wrote The Hawkweed Passive Solar House Book. He showed us around their house — inserting at least one pun into every sentence — pointing to all of the attention paid to making the home more energy efficient. The energy bill for the home was less than $50 a month for the 1,200 square foot structure in Paducah, Kentucky (a walkable community, he pointed out). The couple paid good money for energy efficient appliances, used prefabricated wall panels with dense foam insulation to build with and of course designed the home with climate and geography in mind, in a passive solar fashion.

It’s going to take this kind of intentionality in our design of life, I believe, in order to make renewables work. Sure some things might cost more now and then, but Wright made a point of saying that even though their uber efficient Swedish microwave/convection oven might have cost them $3,000 they built the home for only $85,000 (doing some of the work themselves, such as painting) just four years ago.

Wright also pointed out that we used to do better at designing our dwellings and communities as they relate to their local environments. What will it take as a culture to forgo the more common and under-considered living spaces we create in the United States?

Standing outside of American suburbia

At some point in the last week I saw something that made me think, as I do on occasion, how nice it would be to be pursuing the suburban dream here in America. My wife and I could [in theory] be fairly successful [financially] if we chose to go that route. We both possess degrees in halfway decent paying fields that we have not pursued as avidly as we could have, even though both of us are still using those skills in our work presently. We could be living on the right side of the tracks if we wanted to be.

We chose instead, just after graduating, to serve in mission mobilization with Mission Data International, which we’re still doing. So from the get go we had to raise money for my own fairly frugal salary. My wife became editing manager of our small town newspaper while we raised support, but she quit as we had planned when my student loans were paid off.

I don’t remember exactly what triggered the desire to seek out suburbia this week. It may have been seeing that happy family driving down the road in their newer car, combined with the chaos of moving into a very small house in neighborhood I don’t know anything about.

And now I’m wondering — not for the first time — now I’m asking the question “What is the appeal of suburbia?” Is it merely social pressure or is there more to it? Could it be there is something about the suburban space that hearkens to our subconscious? Is there something in us as humans that yearns for more open spaces (Yes, I know I’m posting this just after suggesting I miss downtown living.)? In recent years I’ve become a little less of a critic of the American suburbs, realizing we can’t just summarily do away with them and wondering, as already stated, if they came into being and proliferated with some substance beyond the greed of speculative developers.

My wife and I certainly have our reasons for intentionally standing outside of the typical pursuit of American suburbia, keyword here being pursuit. Our own interests, passions, point our time and efforts towards ends that, while still personal, attempt to look beyond our own comfort. We hope to be a counterculture for the common good. While this can be done — and should be done by people who feel called to it — in the context of the suburbs, it’s not where we’re at.


As an aside, another aspect of this week’s enigmatic desire to have a suburban life — which the wife very accurately pointed out has enough problems of its own since it’s also populated by people — might a sense of isolation I’ve had over the past few months. Working a more or less full time job away from the computer (along with still working my part-time M-DAT job mobilizing, breaking in a puppy and moving) has taken more getting used to than I expected. I miss blogging, being able to read blogs, being able to read substantial articles on the arts or theology during the week. I’m not a news junky by any stretch of the imagination, but I was disappointed to learn just this morning (in an email from M-DAT HQ) that there was a volcano disrupting air travel for mission trips. We also miss our network of artistically inclined friends back in Northwest Arkansas.

How any of this relates to a desire for a suburban life, which is typically associated with isolation itself, I don’t know. But my mind seems to want to make some kind of connection to it at the moment.

Downtown Grand Island, Nebraska

One of the recurring topics on this blog has been downtown Siloam Springs, Arkansas. Now that we’ve moved up to Grand Island, Nebraska and are actually living downtown it only makes sense, in my mind, to continue in this same vein in this new (to us) community.

Heartland antique mall

This is the view looking east on Third Street from our living room window. I thought it a bit ironic that just one of the buildings in this block lacks the apparently original(-ish) second-floor facade, and that that building houses an antique mall.

Antique stores are a staple of downtown Grand Island. My father’s business, the Milestone Gallery, joined the cadre of retailers selling old and used items about a year ago. Downtown Grand Island seems to be going in the right direction, although the revivification doesn’t appear as dramatic as in Siloam Springs on account of being a much larger area with many more buildings. More living spaces would help, as would a restaurant that isn’t focused on selling alcohol. A thai place is supposed to be going into the building labeled “Alley Cat” in the photo above. Others have come and gone in the past decade.

More will follow as I meet more of the people living and working in this part of the community.

On suburbia and sustainability

The Passionately Alive entry I already cited this morning also contains two very interesting bits of media talking about suburbia and sustainability that are worth resposting. First, a trailer for The End of Suburbia:

And secondly, an excerpt from The Suburban Nation (pages 117-118):

    The plight of the suburban housewife was powerfully conveyed in a letter we received in 1990 from a woman living outside of Tulsa:

    Dear Architects:

    I am a mother of four children who are not able to leave the yard because of our city’s design. Ever since we have moved here I have felt like a caged animal only let out for a ride in the car. It is impossible to walk even to the grocery store two blocks away. If our family wants to go for a ride we need to load two cars with four bikes and a baby cart and drive four miles to the only bike path in this city of over a quarter million people. I cannot exercise unless I drive to a health club that I had to pay $300 to, and that is four and a half miles away. There is no sense of community here on my street, either, because we all have to drive around in our own little worlds that take us fifty miles a day to every corner of the surrounding five miles.

    I want to walk somewhere so badly that I could cry. I miss walking! I want the kids to walk to school. I want to walk to the store for a pound of butter. I want to take the kids on a neighborhood stroll or bike. My husband wants to walk to work because it is so close, but none of these things is possible…And if you saw my neighborhood, you would think that I had it all according to the great American dream.

Building a green city from the ground up

Greensburg, Kansas, a small plains community of 1,000 people, was leveled by a tornado in 2007.

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The town is making the most of the rebuilding opportunity. New structures replacing the tornadic debris are being built in the style of green. “Greensburg GreenTown is a Kansas-based nonprofit organization, providing inspiration and leadership to Kiowa County in order to be a model of sustainable living for the world.”

Greensburg on CNN

I’ve hoped for a similar initiative here in Siloam Springs, although I haven’t yet taken the time to propose it to the city. Still, it wouldn’t be the same kind of opportunity that Greensburg has, building from the ground up. Props to Greensburg for making lemonade of the lemon it was dealt two years ago.

Among the new green buildings is the 5.4.7 Arts Center, which is the 1st LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Platinum building in Kansas according to its website.

Image from GreensburgKS.org

First time home buyer credit bad for the economy?

Real estate isn’t really what this blog is about, but it comes up somewhat regularly in relationship to my keen interest in both residential building design and community planning. And, as regular readers will note, my wife and I have recently been thinking of selling our home and buying another.

NPR’s Morning Edition made note today of the $8,000 tax credit Uncle Sam is offering to first-time home buyers. I’m not a first time buyer and, thus, haven’t given much thought to the offer. Quite a few people have though. According to the NPR spot, lower housing costs combined with the tax break have resulted in an upward trend among first-time buyers.

My office acquaintance who just bought a home — from the utterly inane and incompetent bureaucracy that remains of Countrywide — has brought it up in our conversations. For him it was an incentive; from what I can tell it wasn’t the deciding factor. He and his wife have been looking at houses for a while. On Monday, a friend noted over breakfast that he knows of two people planning to buy a house solely because of the tax credit, people who in his opinion have no business buying a home. I trust this friend’s judgment; he’s a financial counselor, in essence, for Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace program.

Could this be an unintended consequence of the stimulus, something the Obama administration failed to foresee? Will we end up with an entirely new set of individuals chained to mortgages they can’t afford, starting the vicious cycle over again — thanks to the federal government? The danger is real, although I hope it isn’t the case.

The Morning Edition spot pointed out that first time buyers’ ideas of what constitutes a starter home are less opulent than a few years ago. Wine cellars and the like have given way to practicality. “Peace of mind is the new must-have,” according to NPR.

IAM Encounter: Billy Collins on subdivisions

United States Poet Laureate Billy Collins read a number of his works during a plenary at the IAM Encounter 2009 gathering. I was already familiar with some of his work, though couldn’t have told you that without hearing specific poems.

His reading was fantastic, a very somber and almost monotone voice conveying common yet humorous observations. “A lot of poetry is born out of irritation,” he said.

One of his poems, The Golden Years, reminded me of a personal irritation I wrote about way back in 2006 in a post titled How to name a subdivision. In that entry I ask why subdivisions seem to be so randomly named after natural phenomena that bear no relevance to that particular location. Billy Collins asks the same question.

    The Golden Years
    All I do these drawn-out days
    is sit in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge
    where there are no pheasant to be seen
    and last time I looked, no ridge.

    I could drive over to Quail Falls
    and spend the day there playing bridge,
    but the lack of a falls and the absence of quail
    would just remind me of Pheasant Ridge.

    I know a widow at Fox Run
    and another with a condo at Smokey Ledge.
    One of them smokes, and neither can run,
    so I’ll stick to the pledge I made to Midge.

    Who frightened the fox and bulldozed the ledge?
    I ask in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge.

The Golden Years is from Collins’ Ballistic: Poems (Amazon link). It’s well worth owning a book or two of his poems; I bought The Art of Drowning at the conference.

Art gallery grand opening in Siloam Springs

It’s been a week of short posts, and here’s another.

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Tonight is the grand opening of the Local Flair Art Gallery in downtown Siloam Springs from 6-9pm. The downtown gallery features two and three-dimensional works by 10 or 12 local artists including Joel Armstrong, Charles Peer, Neil Ward, John Lein and myself.

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This is a significant step in the revival of downtown Siloam Springs. Another such step is getting a restaurant down there, which seems to be happening in the next six months as well. Emelia’s Mediterranean Kitchen is supposed to going into the dilapidated building on the corner of Mount Olive and University.

Other recently new retail downtown includes a Books on Broadway, Broadway Flowers and The Baby Habit. And, in conjunction with Local Flair, a furniture boutique is opening next door called Amandromeda. Amandromeda’s growing collection includes seating designed by both a Bertoia and Le Corbusier. The interior of the store below.

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Another downtown building is also receiving a makeover now, although I’m not sure what’s going in it. It was formerly Felt’s Shoes before recently being used as storage by now mayor David Allen. Apartments continue to go in the second floors of two or three buildings as well.

Now we just have to hope these new businesses find some staying power.

A modern home’s lack of foresight

Last week — during and following the great ice storm of 2009 — my wife and I were without power for four days, almost 100 hours by her count. We learned very quickly how inept so many modern American homes are when it comes to, well, self-sufficiency.

We toughed it out for two nights, but after seeing our own breath upon waking the second morning we decided that was enough. The house registered 43 degrees (the lowest it would get, from what we could tell).

fireplace

Illustration of a fireplace, from the 14th century Tacuinum Sanitatis

Our little bungalow, like so many other American dwellings, lacks a fireplace (or wood-burning stove). Such a simple implement, a staple in buildings for millenia, and quite basic to everyday activities such as lighting, heating, cooking and romance and our little Hygge and Fika (as we’ve so named our cottage) falls short in this category.

Our American homes aren’t built to function without electricity. Sure we have candles and battery operated lanterns, and perhaps even portable heaters. But kerosene and gas heaters are supposed to be used in “well-ventilated” areas (which makes me wonder why I have one built into the third bedroom in my house), lest you die from carbon monoxide. A friend suggested that these function just to cut the chill. That is how I’ve used ours, but it wasn’t enough to cut the chill back from 43 degrees.

Why, pray tell, aren’t houses built in a self-sufficient manner? How difficult would it be to design for south-facing windows to capture the winter sun and westward eaves to eschew the summer heat? How difficult would it be to plan a home around a hearth? Even before my first significant brush with an ice storm, last week, I built these things into the homes in my head (if ever I get the chance to design and build my own).

The simple answer is that spec homes, which constitute the great majority of humble Stateside abodes, are built as money makers more than as places people live. It seems to come back, again, to the short-sighted culture we live in. The developers want to make money now. The buyers, first-time and otherwise, want the amenities their parents patiently waited for years to earn in their first home, even if it means the home is a cheap piece of poo.

How can we change this aspect of our culture? Please, let us change this aspect of American culture!

Image from Wikipedia.

The Gilmore Girls and community

For Christmas, I gave my wife the first four seasons of Gilmore Girls.

We’ve already seen all of the episodes on DVD, but the wife has talked for a couple years about buying the series for background candy while she’s knitting or crocheting. And, as emasculating as it may be to admit this, I’m O.K. with owning the show too. Really, it’s darn good television.

Over the past week we’ve watched quite a few of the episodes already, as part of a regimen to recuperate from our trip (I’m still not completely over that evil mega-cold). Seeing the shows again reminds me of the incredible sense of community portrayed in Stars Hollow.

Stars Hollow, the small fictional town of 10,000 people 30 minutes outside of Hartford, Connecticut, was loosely based on the community of Washington, Connecticut. The Hollow is a tight little ville centered around a square with a gazebo. Most — if not all — of the businesses in the show are on the town square, and pedestrianism seems to be a way of life for the program’s characters. Lorelai and Rory, the two main characters, are rarely seen driving around town. They walk to Doose’s Market. They walk to the Luke’s diner. They walk to the bookstore to watch old films in the evening.

What an enviable lifestyle in so many ways.

It’s difficult for me to imagine a modern town of 10,000 (roughly the population of Siloam Springs when I moved here almost six years ago) actually functioning like this. Particularly, it’s hard to believe that there would be such a variety of useful businesses on the town square. Wouldn’t there be a Walmart along a highway that runs through town? (There is a Walmart in Stars Hollow per a third season show.) How could Doose’s Market, a tiny little corner grocer, compete with that? (There are ways, I know, for small businesses to survive in the midst of grossly large chains. I’m speaking in stereotypes here, as well as from my own experience.)

However, Stars Hollow apparently depicts a fairly typical small New England community, at least according to a Hartford Courant writer in 2002 (quote from Wikipedia):

    Unlike the Hartford depicted on Judging Amy, the Stars Hollow of The Gilmore Girls rings true. The town’s antiques shops, small businesses, schools, government and infrastructure look the part. But where Sherman-Palladino has truly excelled, despite her Clueless origins, is in her drawing of colorful Connecticut characters. The populace of Stars Hollow, from the town busybody to the town troubadour, is familiar to any Nutmegger who ever attended a town meeting.