Editor’s Journal (03.01.07)

McMansions?! Think before you speak …

By: John Dunphy
   As editor for The Lawrence Ledger, I think it’s about time I speak out about an issue that has rankled me and upset me to no end: McMansions.
   To me, the consumerism of McMansions, equipped with sunrooms, theater-grade entertainment centers, Olympic-size swimming pools, super-duper master bedrooms that rival the size of the modest house I grew up in — and the massive Hummer and Escalade outside to complete the package — in a phrase, makes me ill.
   Harsh words? Absolutely. These are the kind of words that spring forth every time I drive down a once-peaceful, quiet, bucolic road in Mercer County, and see that peace modernized by one of these sun-blockers, or piddle to work in my dented little Nissan Sentra while flanked by a Land Rover, or hear about another subdivided parcel of land that will soon be developed into "nine luxury estates!!" When did the word "house" become so offensive?
   As I write this, my blood begins to boil and it gets harder and harder to try to get to my point (which, believe me, folks, is coming).
   My disdain for a disposable culture, living in disposable houses, living disposable lives has almost become a religion (there’s the point!). And, like zealous religiosos need to try (as hard as it can be) to see things from both sides of the coin, I, and the many others like me, need to see things from both perspectives, as well.
   Time is ever changing. It’s not a static entity, much to my dismay. Many of the quiet, scenic, beautiful farms I passed on Christmas Day as a child while going to grandma and grandpa’s in Hightstown just aren’t there anymore. Maybe the farmers died, or got sick, or just got sick and tired of working themselves to the bone every day to barely scrape by, while a developer was waiting in the wings with a big, fat check. What would you do?
   Maybe the farmer, let’s call him John Doe because that’s creative, worked his butt off for years. He scrimped and saved so his progeny would not have to go through what he did. They didn’t. They went off to college, got good jobs, and afterward, got married. With a baby on the way, John Doe Jr. and his wife wanted to buy a place in a safe neighborhood, a comfortable place for John Doe III, and perhaps a few more little ones, to grow up in. While he respected his father and everything he’d accomplished, he certainly didn’t want to slave away in the fields, in the barns, at the crack of dawn. In fact, he wanted to get as far away from that life as possible. And what’s less natural than a home that provides every excuse never to have to set foot outside of it?
   Do I agree with John Doe Jr.? No, I still don’t. However, getting into this fictitious person’s head for just a moment, I can see, perhaps, where he’s coming from. It puts a face on this make-believe evil, this wasteful consumer who heats a dozen rooms in an 8,000-square-foot compound, but lives in only one of them. Maybe now I, on the other side of the argument, would be more inclined to speak with this person rationally, rather than simply blow up in his face.
   So, today, as I read Lea Kahn’s article about Lawrence Township’s Master Plan amendment — only to impulsively wish they would restrict new development to the average size and not twice the average size of existing homes — I shall stop, breathe a moment, and control those zealous, knee-jerk thoughts. And I will try to remember two things: Our opinions might clearly reside in one camp, but seeing things from both sides, and empathizing with both sides, can assure us that our opinions aren’t simply our emotions running wild.
   And while I certainly have no desire to upgrade my dented little Nissan to a shiny new Hummer, an Acura TL sure would be nice.
John Dunphy is managing editor of The Lawrence Ledger. He can be reached at [email protected].