Home for a Quarter of a Decade

When I moved into the "cottage district" of Alamo Heights 27 or so years ago,  the owner happened to be pounding a For Rent sign into the all rock yard of this then-pitiful little concrete block house just as Mary Locke and I were driving by. 

She was driving me around looking for apartments a few days after I had moved out of my Married House in Helotes.  I had no money at the time except for my skimpy UTSA salary and couldn't even imagine renting anything in posh Alamo Heights.  The owner showed me a lease agreement, and the rent was $700 a month--which at the time looked exorbitant.  

I think of that  today when I hear of the soaring rental rates and the number of young people moving in with their parents.  Even on salaries way higher than mine was then, so many cannot afford houses. I talked with a woman at the vet's office this week; all three of her children at various times have come back home.   "They are all in their twenties, all college educated, one a Marine," she said.  "We've never had an empty nest."

So I looked at the $700 and felt dismayed.  The house was ugly, yes, with peeling wallpaper and an orange cracking kitchen and painted walls that looked like they'd been done by stoned painters with no masking tape.  But I could see potential in it, felt it somehow needed me for restoration.  I already loved it, but today I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Mary Locke suggested we call my parents and see if they could help--which they didn't hesitate in saying yes to!  

This morning, as I was driving back from my coke run, the trees spilling gold and orange leaves on the ground under the umbrella of limbs on my pretty street, I got a flash of the street when I first found it.  Back then, all the houses were small like mine, or at least middle-sized.  There were spaces between them for visiting and parking.  

Year by year, more large houses have taken the place of smaller ones.  Lots that used to give some houses a nice patch of yard have been taken over by large houses.  Two houses, one of which is super modern,  have filled the space where my late-friend Allen used to live in an historic Alamo Heights house.  He always claimed it was the first house in '09.  In some cases, the spaces between houses is minimal, as little as four or five feet.  On every street, large new houses have appeared as if overnight, the little houses beside them dwarfed and shabby looking.

And yet, when I moved in here, the dwarfed houses were charming.  Lights glowed in their windows.  Yards may not have been much more spacious, but it felt like it because they were crammed so close to other houses. 

It was an amazing neighborhood back then.  It still is for lots of reasons, and I love it dearly.  But "cottage district" is now a misnomer.  

People flock to Alamo Heights and pay top dollar for properties in part due to the reputation of the schools. The houses today are larger and closer than I'd have thought space allowed.   Some of the original houses do indeed look a little sad beside their shiny neighbors, but not all.  It's a quiet wonderful neighborhood of dog-walkers and friends and cheerful-seeming people and pretty lawns. During this season, many of the houses are wrapped in festive colored lights.  

I wish sometimes that it was like it used to be, a neighborhood of bungalows and cottages with large yards and no mega-houses blocking their sunlight.   But time marches merrily along and that's the way it is.  

My first Christmas on this street (as a $700-a-month renter)  I was complaining to my parents about the drab condition of my house, about not being able to fix it up for their upcoming visit.  

"I think you can do anything you want to with this house," my daddy said.  "Let's call it your Christmas present!"

Without my having a clue, they had purchased this house!  I remember walking around in a daze for days.  I had a house, a home, a yard!  

It's now covered with stucco, the rocks are gone, and flowers of every color attract butterflies.  The walls have been painted many times, the bathroom and kitchen updated, wood floors installed.  It has a casita in the backyard that was home to writing groups for many years.  It is--for what I love and need--perfect!  

I wish this for everyone, young and old, single and married--a home, a canvas, a place of peace, a yard for a dog, blooming plants, and, on this December day, a yard filled with golden leaves.