These categories have some porous boundaries but there is another way to look at this. What is the life expectancy of people in the United States and where do I fit?
With that data in mind, I am comfortably past the mid-point of life. Sure, there are some personal traits and family history to consider but the broad data suggests this is the case.
Does this help me feel better or worse? Hard to know; it does provide a reminder that many others are in similar positions. In a society that often prizes youth and all that comes with it, to be further along in the age distributions comes with consequences.
I use the term car bloat to describe the ongoing expansion of vehicle models over the past 50 years. Although car bloat is a global trend, it is especially pronounced in the United States, where sedans and station wagons have been largely replaced by the SUVs and pickups that now account for about 4 in 5 new car purchases. At the same time, individual models have grown heftier. A 2024 Chevrolet Silverado pickup, for instance, is around 700 pounds heavier and 2 inches taller than the 1995 edition. According to federal data, the average new American car now weighs around 30 percent more than it did 40 years ago.
Car bloat creates numerous costs that are borne by society rather than the purchaser, or “negative externalities,” as economists call them. These include increased emissions, faster road wear, and reduced curbside parking capacity. But car bloat’s most obvious and urgent downside may be the danger it presents to anyone on the street who isn’t cocooned inside a gigantic vehicle.
Although occupants of big cars may be slightly safer in a crash, those in smaller ones are at much greater risk. A recent analysis by the Economist found that among the heaviest one percent of American cars, 12 people die inside smaller models for each person saved by the enormity of their vehicle. Pedestrians are still more exposed. A recent study by the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety found that vehicles with tall, flat front ends—common on SUVs and pickups—are more than 40 percent more likely to kill a pedestrian in the event of a crash than those with shorter, sloped ones. Worse, giant cars are more apt to hit a human in the first place because drivers sitting high off the ground have an obscured view of their surroundings. A 2022 IIHS study found that large vehicles’ A-pillars (the structure between a windshield and side window) frequently conceal pedestrians at intersections, and TV news stations have run segments demonstrating that an SUV driver cannot see as many as nine toddlers sitting in a row in front of her.
Having a bigger vehicle may help increase the safety of the driver and passengers but causes issues for others. If the American emphasis on driving and planning around cars was not enough, having even larger vehicles makes it more difficult for pedestrians, bicyclists, and users of smaller vehicles.
The article goes on to discuss options to limit the danger to pedestrians while still allowing vehicles to be big. It might be harder to think of realistic ways that American vehicles could shrink over the next few decades. Imagine an American landscape in 2050 where large vehicles are rare. Large SUVs and pickup trucks are small in number. More vehicles are smaller. How did it happen? Will Americans come to care more about the environment? Will there be a larger groundswell for alternative modes of transportation? Will there be influential financial incentives to move to smaller vehicles? Is there political will to set size and/or weight limitations?
I also imagine there might be some limits to how big vehicles could get. Do lane widths and parking spots all need to be redesigned? Is there a significant loss in drivability and/or fuel efficiency at some point?
If you’re shopping for bananas in NorCal, you’d likely head over to the nearest Safeway. But if you travel south of King City in Monterey County, that familiar chain is no longer an option — but the inside of Vons, found throughout SoCal, will feel eerily familiar. No matter where you are, there’s a clap of thunder before the produce aisle endures a quick “rainstorm.”
That’s because the stores are owned by the same company and have been since 1997. After decades of competition, Safeway acquired Vons and eventually the stores had the same bright interior, wide aisles and even the same loyalty numbers. They’ve even adopted the same color red for their logo. Some Californians may not even realize they’re both owned by the same company and yet, they’ll still have a preference for one or the other.
“It’s a common industrywide practice to keep the brand name that locals are familiar with in their region. There is a sense of pride among shoppers when they shop at their local supermarket,” Safeway spokesperson Wendy Gutshall told SFGATE.
Not all might agree with this:
Plenty of Californians would be offended by this discussion altogether, with no murmur of the very real Central California designation thrown in.
Where one neighborhood ends and the next begins or where a region stops and another begins can be contentious. How many names and areas should there be/ Which trait or pattern to consider? What if public opinion is mixed or divided?
Sometimes there are official or authoritative designations that can help. If the Census Bureau says your state is in the Midwest even though might consider themselves to live in another region, that is an authoritative voice. Or if online maps start labeling a neighborhood by a particular name, this reinforces that name.
What is interesting here is that this designation involves one major grocery company that has locations of two of its brands to geographic areas that do not overlap. What would happen if Albertsons started a Safeway in San Diego or a Vons in San Jose? Would people refuse to go there? Would expats from the other region flock to a more familiar store? There are other grocery stores – such as Walmart or Costco – that span both regions.
Hoping it was a fluke, Driscoll tore out the affected drywall and started fresh. After all, the four-bedroom home built in 1960 had no flood history.
But then it happened again, and again. Like many others in the community, he put his home up for sale in the spring of this year. After seeing little interest, he cut the asking price…
Ballooning home insurance costs and the perennial threat of violent storms are starting to undermine housing markets throughout much of the state. But in few places has the turnaround been more dramatic than in low-lying communities up and down the coast of Florida that frequently flood.
The Tampa Bay housing market had been softening even before Helene struck. While prices have been flat, the area experienced a 58% increase in supply in August compared with a year ago, and a 10% decrease in demand, according to Parcl Labs, a real-estate data and analytics firm.
About half the homes listed for sale in Tampa experienced price reductions as of Sept. 9, the third highest share of all U.S. major metropolitan areas.
It sounds like there has been an increase in people wanting to sell in this area. It is not quite “all” have their homes on the market. Perhaps “all” might want to sell?
Either way, the idea of a large number of homeowners moving away at once is likely rare in recent years. There are ghost towns across the American landscape, whether in mining communities or suburbs. In these cases, everyone left and decades later there are some remnants or possibly nothing left if other land development has taken place.
If residents all left these Tampa neighborhoods, what would happen to the land? It could remain unpopulated if it was determined that these are areas that frequently experience flooding. The land could become wetlands or a buffer zone for nearby land. Or it could be turned over to other developed uses that might be less affected by flooding, whether that might be a park or industrial space.
Just as there was nothing natural about the processes that prompted suburban decline, there was nothing natural about the vast funds poured into these communities to make redevelopment happen. County and state governments led the way through planning, policies, and public investments meant to entice private investment. As Silver Spring and Wheaton vividly revealed, their efforts were layered and robust: enterprise zones, urban and art districts, eminent domain, tax breaks, parcel assemblage, parking regulations, new transit investments and infrastructure. Public agencies created new market pressures that directed and enabled profitable private development. They served as the promotional arm of private corporations, advertising new suburban downtowns as safe for middle-class consumers and residents. They were critical actors in creating displacement pressures and were, as many activists argued, responsible for their redress.
But for the millions of dollars in tax breaks, incentives and assistance that developers were given, what was asked in return for those who lost their homes, businesses and sense of community? What was gained for those who had lived with broken sidewalks and run-down playgrounds for decades? Were they the beneficiaries of this progress – or was the development, as many suspected, for someone else?
As visions for new suburban downtowns emerged, long-standing communities could scarcely see themselves in the sketches of shiny new plazas and pedestrian streets. As in downtown Silver Spring, these images projected futures that allowed for the comfortable return of the white middle classes, catering to their tastes and preferences for what an authentic and safe urban experience looked and felt like. They did not honor marginalized groups’ deep histories, struggles or valued places. If suburban boosters dared to look back at all, their visions sugarcoated the past in ways that did not trouble their present plans.
Even diversity became a selling point. In Wheaton, multicultural festivals crowded the downtown plaza and colorful art displays featured faces from across the world. Yet many wondered whether its fragile diversity was simply a transition to a future in which they no longer existed.
This is gentrification — and it is suburban. While the language of retrofitting or renaissance may be much more genteel, their processes are no less brutal nor disruptive. They affect the lives and livelihoods of countless neighborhoods and threaten the sense of place that people of color and new immigrants have fought to establish and protect, sometimes with, but largely in the absence of, white neighbors and public support.
This sounds similar to what studies of urban gentrification find: the promises of new development and growth can have negative consequences for residents already there.
I wonder if resisting gentrification in the suburbs might be harder for two reasons:
Growth is good in the United States. This is true across numerous American communities but might even be more baked into the idea of suburbia. Suburbs are meant to grow. To resist growth is to resist a higher status. (An exception might be that communities that are already well-off and exclusive can resist growth.)
The city of Woodbury in recent years has made native landscaping and pollinator gardens more intentional in some of the city’s 500 stormwater basins. The homeowners associations that rule many of Woodbury’s residential developments, dictating everything from front door colors to permitted landscaping, have become more lenient. The just-built Westwind New Home Community has in its recorded covenant a stipulation that allows homeowners to use native plantings and shrubs.
The Legislature weighed in last year with a new law saying cities cannot ban pollinator gardens or native plantings in front yards, opening a path for those who want to create a bee-friendly spot. The conflict got widespread attention after the city of Falcon Heights sued a man who planted vegetables in his front yard…
When visitors ask her for advice, Boyle sends them to Metro Blooms, a Minneapolis nonprofit that helps communities create healthier landscapes. There’s some cost to a project like Boyle’s, but the larger barrier was the social stigma…
Hong has pitched an idea to developers to allow homeowners to choose their landscaping, much the same way they might choose the home’s paint color or countertops, and to give them the option of planting native grasses and pollinator gardens. If someone just bought a new house that came with sod and in-ground irrigation, “it’s asking a lot of the homeowner to rip that all out and do something different,” Hong said…
The counterargument is that most builders choose sod for new houses because of state and federal rules about stormwater and erosion control, said Nick Erickson, the senior director of housing policy for Housing First Minnesota, the state trade association for builders.
From the story, it sounds like at least these sets of actors have gotten involved: a municipal government, homeowner’s associations, the state legislature, non-profits, and some residents. On the other hand, developers and builders may privilege grass lawns because of state and federal guidelines. Additionally, the story hints at more informal interactions as residents talk offline and online about lawns and draw upon long-established patterns about lawns and yards.
All of this suggests to me that moving away from lawns is not an easy task. Americans, particularly in the suburbs, tend to like lawns and what they represent. To present viable alternatives takes work. Many homes already exist. What might motivate people to take out a lawn and replace it with something else? What incentives are available? In this particular situation, a danger to wildlife is motivating some people to act. Elsewhere, it might be drought or limited water supplies.
If people want to envision a United States with substantially fewer grass lawns in thirty years, this article hints that multiple actors will need to work. Each could have a part to play in incentivizing other options. And as noted above, having new homes that do not start with a lawn is a potentially powerful change that could take some time to pursue.
A late summer swim in Lake Michigan can be exciting. It is early September or even later and you test out the water. Dip a toe in. See if it is warm. And sometimes it is. Warm enough to jump in, swim, play. Even if school has started or fall seems to have already begun (even if it is not “officially” started by the calendar) or municipal pools have already closed, the warm waters of the lake prolong summer.
As someone who has visited Lake Michigan throughout my life, these are good moments. Lake Michigan is not always warm enough for swimming, whether testing out the chilly waters at Memorial Day or finding that a change to a north wind overnight has cooled the water temperature too much.
Lake Michigan is heating up. The lake’s surface temperature has surpassed the running average dating back to 1995 nearly every day this year, according to National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) data. And it’s not just one Great Lake. All five are warming. The massive bodies of water, which provide drinking water to more than 30 million people, are among the fastest-warming lakes worldwide, according to the federal government’s Fifth National Climate Assessment.
It’s a trend that doesn’t show any sign of slowing. As heat trapping-greenhouse gasses continue to accumulate in the atmosphere, the Great Lakes region is projected to grow warmer and wetter in the years and decades to come. Over a fifth of the world’s supply of non-frozen freshwater flows through the five connected Great Lakes, forming the Earth’s largest freshwater ecosystem.
Beyond a longer swimming season, might this lead to more Great Lakes tourism? Different conditions (algae, different fish, etc.) for swimmers and other recreational users of the lake? Will the lake remain an attractive place to visit?
Professional sports teams in the United States can and do move from place to place. But how often does a city lose three teams in less than 10 years? Here is what happened in Oakland:
The Raiders left for Los Angeles in 1982, came back to Oakland in 1995 and then uprooted for Las Vegas 2020.
The Golden State Warriors moved across the bay to San Francisco’s Chase Center starting in the 2019-20 season after having played in Oakland since 1971.
Oakland even briefly had an NHL team: the California Golden Seals, which entered as an expansion franchise in 1967 and played nine seasons in Oakland before moving to become the Cleveland Barons, which ceased operations after two seasons.
What might this signal about Oakland? Pro sports teams can be a status symbol, indicating a particular population size and reputation. Losing a team can be viewed as a loss to a different place.
At the same time, there seem to be some unique factors at work. Oakland is across the bay from San Francisco and is close to San Jose, two other big cities that also have pro sports teams. One team, the Warriors, went across the bay. Additionally, the rise of Las Vegas meant teams could move without going all the way across the country from Oakland. Two teams went there. Finally, all three of these teams were in other cities before leaving Oakland: the Raiders spent time in Los Angeles (though started in Oakland), the A’s came from Philadelphia and Kansas City, and the Warriors started in Philadelphia and played in San Francisco before playing in Oakland for several decades.
The A’s leaving means this big city has no pro teams within city limits. The region still has pro teams – the 49ers, Giants, Warriors, and Sharks – but none are located in a city that had teams in each of the four major leagues.
How’s that going to happen? Tax incentives for builders, perhaps an expansion of the low-income housing tax credit, but mostly, a $40 billion fund that would “empower local governments to fund local solutions to build housing [and] support innovative methods of construction financing.”
It’s not clear exactly what an innovation fund entails. Maybe the closest antecedent is a new, $85 million HUD program called “Pathways to Removing Obstacles to Housing,” or PRO Housing, which this summer issued 17 grants of a few million dollars each. The projects that got money include buying land for affordable housing in Rhode Island, retooling a digital application process in New York City, and hiring staff to fast-track affordable housing proposals in Denver.
It was a super competitive process, with $13 in requests for every $1 in award. Which raises the question: What can an annual outlay of $100 million (the PRO budget for next year) do to solve a problem as big as a deficit of 3 million homes? “State and local governments look at each other all the time, so those little examples can bear a lot of fruit,” said Chris Herbert, director of the Joint Center for Housing Studies at Harvard and a fan of the program. “There’s not a lot of money out there, but these grants can become an example for other places.”
Note what those two programs share: A focus on more housing, period, even if it’s not necessarily restricted to low-income Americans. That’s a subtle, crucial shift in federal priorities that reflects the growing sense that Washington must intervene to create more housing at all price points, not just for the poorest households with the most urgent housing needs.
Focusing on more housing overall could have several benefits:
It could be popular across residents who might be feeling the need for more and cheaper housing. Promoting such programs could garner more widespread public support.
Could fit the theory that providing more housing overall will help moderate prices across the housing spectrum.
At the same time, it is not entirely clear that such an approach would lead to the outcomes politicians and residents want. Do people generally want more housing (or is this limited to particular places)? Will reduced prices in housing brought on by increasing the supply reach the people who need the most housing help? What large-scale programs can help increase housing and flexibility even as different jurisdictions and locales approach housing differently at the local level?
All of this might just need to be worked out. Perhaps the shift above reflects an ongoing frustration among at least a few that not enough is happening regarding promoting housing.
Completed in 2011, the Angelo Drive estate is accessed by a long, steep driveway flanked by landscaped hedges, according to documents filed with the city. Surrounding a central courtyard, the main house has a large, high-ceilinged atrium lighted by a skylight. Fronted by a fence up to 8 feet high in places, the estate also has a tennis court, guesthouse, staff quarters and a detached recreation room and home theater.
The property has at least 12 to 15 bedrooms, said local real-estate agent Rayni Williams, who has attended events at the Pritzker estate. Its view is one of the best in Los Angeles. “You feel like you’re floating in the view,” she said. The vista is especially remarkable given the home’s massive size, she said. Most houses of comparable square footage are located in flatter areas rather than in the hills.
From this description, several traits of the home stand out:
It has particular features, including a large atrium, additional buildings, and lots of bedrooms.
It is large. It has at least 12 bedrooms and it is “massive.”
It has a special setting, particularly compared to other big houses, with a long driveway and an impressive view.
These strike me as pretty standard descriptors of homes. What features does it have? How big is it (measured by some standard traits like square footage and number of bedrooms and bathrooms)? What is its location (because it is all about location, location, location)? Real estate listings tend to have a particular format and this description fits with those.
This description does give me some sense of what the home is like. But I wonder if a different approach is needed for such a uniquely large home. A few other possible options:
What is it like to walk through a home and property this big? It has at least 12 bedrooms; what is it like to visit them all? What does it feel like to walk up to a house this size and walk around it? This helps fill out the experience of a home this size beyond certain measurements.
What is the view comparable to? What can I see from the house that I cannot see elsewhere? Roughly how many other homes have a similar view? This helps describe the location of the home.
Are these features found in other places or is this a unique combination or is there a particular sense of style with all of these features? What makes these features stand out from other large homes? This helps get at what helps the house stand apart from others.
All of these involve an experience of the home that goes beyond what can be ascertained by plans and pictures. Without this experiential information, it is just a big house and hard to imagine.
Legally Sociable 