Since I teach writing and literature at a local college, I often find myself reflecting on phrases such as the one above (which I have borrowed from a work of modern playwright Edward Albee.) In the course of a recent conversation with one of our Board members, the words suddenly came to my mind. What we need in Bluff Heights is a ''delicate balance.'' With the competent leadership of Catherine Morley to guide us, we have been pursuing historic designation for our area. In fact, it has been one of the driving forces of our association?’s agenda since its revival in the year 2000.
As with any local movement, objections are bound to be raised. Hey, we live (thank goodness) in a free country; the First Amendment (guaranteeing free speech) is one of our most treasured rights. I know of no person in this organization that would like to have his or her rights as a homeowner dictated. We all need and want to choose how we conduct our lives; how we live in our own homes, what colors we paint them, and what landscaping we cultivate?—those are all highly personal matters.
But, if you attended the historic preservation meeting at the Mann School Auditorium on December 12, I believe you would have come away from it feeling as reassured as I was that none of those rights will be denied you, once our historic status is confirmed. (And, yes, you can have all of your questions answered before being asked to vote on this issue.)
All I know is this: we have the privilege of living in a unique area, yet the low-key, ''user-friendly'' ethos that characterizes it is constantly under threat. When is the last time you took a good look at the architecture of our area?—the Craftsman houses, California bungalows, Mission Revival structures, and other distinctively-styled buildings? How often do you venture down to Broadway for a quick cappuccino or pop into one of the local boutiques for a special card or gift? When is the last time you strolled down to the beach, knowing you could make it in less than five minutes?—sans car, bike, or scooter?
Can you imagine this little world wiped out and replaced with giant boxes?—''McMansions'' that dwarf their neighbors? If you do not think that is possible, drive a few miles to survey the ''coastal towns'' to the North and West. Take a look at what is happening in Manhattan Beach and Redondo Beach, once the property values took off. Land of the giants, where size rules over all!
With the Wal-Marts of the world devouring real estate and developers?’ scooping up choice properties up and down the coast (have you seen the Tuscan-style villages sprouting on the hills off the Newport Coast Highway?), our cozy little enclave is looking more and more precarious all of the time. Without the protection of this designation, we could very well be marked for extinction. More than a century ago, Darwin discovered a key biological principle: survival of the fittest. So, let us not allow ourselves to become extinct. A beautiful neighborhood is a terrible thing to waste; we need to preserve our delicate balance?—moving and improving, yet protecting what we have.
?–Suzanne Ashe
By Suzanne Ashe
As with any local movement, objections are bound to be raised. Hey, we live (thank goodness) in a free country; the First Amendment (guaranteeing free speech) is one of our most treasured rights. I know of no person in this organization that would like to have his or her rights as a homeowner dictated. We all need and want to choose how we conduct our lives; how we live in our own homes, what colors we paint them, and what landscaping we cultivate?—those are all highly personal matters.
But, if you attended the historic preservation meeting at the Mann School Auditorium on December 12, I believe you would have come away from it feeling as reassured as I was that none of those rights will be denied you, once our historic status is confirmed. (And, yes, you can have all of your questions answered before being asked to vote on this issue.)
All I know is this: we have the privilege of living in a unique area, yet the low-key, ''user-friendly'' ethos that characterizes it is constantly under threat. When is the last time you took a good look at the architecture of our area?—the Craftsman houses, California bungalows, Mission Revival structures, and other distinctively-styled buildings? How often do you venture down to Broadway for a quick cappuccino or pop into one of the local boutiques for a special card or gift? When is the last time you strolled down to the beach, knowing you could make it in less than five minutes?—sans car, bike, or scooter?
Can you imagine this little world wiped out and replaced with giant boxes?—''McMansions'' that dwarf their neighbors? If you do not think that is possible, drive a few miles to survey the ''coastal towns'' to the North and West. Take a look at what is happening in Manhattan Beach and Redondo Beach, once the property values took off. Land of the giants, where size rules over all!
With the Wal-Marts of the world devouring real estate and developers?’ scooping up choice properties up and down the coast (have you seen the Tuscan-style villages sprouting on the hills off the Newport Coast Highway?), our cozy little enclave is looking more and more precarious all of the time. Without the protection of this designation, we could very well be marked for extinction. More than a century ago, Darwin discovered a key biological principle: survival of the fittest. So, let us not allow ourselves to become extinct. A beautiful neighborhood is a terrible thing to waste; we need to preserve our delicate balance?—moving and improving, yet protecting what we have.
?–Suzanne Ashe
By Suzanne Ashe
