It's The People

The AZ Republic has a front page article today about the trend of tearing down houses and replacing them with very much larger houses that is happening in Arcadia:

Big, modern homes are changing the character of Phoenix's Arcadia neighborhood, sparking concern among residents that the area's 1950s charm is evaporating one house at a time.

The east Phoenix spot has long been known for its quiet streets, lush landscaping, citrus trees and vintage ranch homes. It's also one of several city spots to become a destination for reverse migration, where families disenchanted with the ritzy, far-off locales move closer in, often bringing their taste for grand homes with them.

But without room to build, developers are buying up older homes and tearing them down. Since 2005, more than 50 demolition permits have been issued in Arcadia.

Some residents say the neighborhood is nearing a tipping point.

"As the years go by, the pace of change has accelerated dramatically where it's noticeable month by month," said Roger Brevoort, who has lived in Arcadia for 16 years and serves on the neighborhood association's zoning committee. "At some point, Arcadia is not as attractive because it has changed from a consistent neighborhood to an inconsistent neighborhood."

Part of what gave Arcadia its charm are the '50s-era houses. They sit on a half-acre, an acre or more and their low-slung profiles help show off knockout views of Camelback Mountain.

You can read the rest of the article at your leisure, with some quotes and viewpoints from residents. I am writing from a purely intuitive viewpoint, but I have some personal observations about Arcadia that have a slightly different feel from the premise of this article.

My dear friend of 30 years, an Arcadia resident, passed away in February after a year of battling cancer. The situation was serious from the very beginning, and my decision was to cram 20 years worth of lunchdates and campouts into the time remaining; so I spent a lot of time over the past year in Arcadia. I met many of the residents, befriended a few, and continue to have some contact with the folks who live there.

I had always thought the main draw of Arcadia was Camelback Mountain - both the views and the proximity to the financial corridor - and that might be the initial pull. Or, as you drive through the neighborhoods, with the citrus trees (let's not talk about roof rats at the moment) and the well-kept landscape, it's obviously a lovely place to live.

Whatever enticed people to move there in the first place, the reason they stay has little to do with the externals and much to do with the relationships formed. There are people who have lived on the same street for 20 or 30 years, and can tell you a brief (or not-so-brief) history of every family on the block. They have spontaneous barbecues, they cheer for each others' kids in sporting events, they band together and provide food and help in crisis; they even bicker about noisy dogs or dead trees, or yes, the new houses replacing the demolished ones with the rooflines piercing the sky and blocking the views. What, you may ask, does this paeon regarding Arcadia have to do with Morrison Ranch?

The Mister has, on occasion, pointed to Arcadia as a neighborhood worthy of emulation. It has not deteriorated over the years, like most neighborhoods do; in fact, it has become more valuable. It has a sense of community much like the Gilbert of The Mister's youth. The landscaping, for the most part, is lush and cool and shady, providing respite from the Arizona sun. In many areas, folks still use flood irrigation for their yards, another good way to interact with your neighbor ("I'm so sorry I overslept and didn't take the water on time and now I've flooded you...). We hope that Morrison Ranch is similar to Arcadia in 50 years; full of community and mature trees and even financial value for the residents.

The Mister does his best to set the tone; drawing folks in with the open space, the cool landscape and the white fences, our neighbors tend to stay because of the sense of community. The Mister has a unique way of greeting folks; often as he drives, walks, or now pedals by someone, he will say, "Hi Hi..." One "hello" just isn't enough. Our son mocks him, in a good-natured way, but The Mister's friendly demeanor is made so obvious by this greeting that you can't help but smile.

We have a good start at importing really great people to live in Morrison Ranch; our neighbors were very gracious after the death of The Mister's father, with gifts and cards and just plain sympathy. I haven't tried a spontaneous barbecue yet, but I can give you a brief history of the folks who live on our street. We've cheered for the local teams, and we've even had some conversations about noisy dogs and trees with leaves that drop (our trees, I might add). So check back with me in 50 years to see if Morrison Ranch has maintained its character; okay, maybe not me, but you can check back with my kids...