Life inside the bungalow, from an insider’s perspective

By Michael Good | HouseCalls

I had a Sociology professor in college whose subject of study was a phenomenon he called “trouble.” His theory: When things go wrong, the true social order becomes apparent.

As an example, he told us about an experience he had in South America, following a devastating earthquake. He went to visit a government minister he’d had business with before. The minister was frequently out of his office, but he went anyway, unannounced, because the phones were down. When he arrived at the minister’s damaged building, he found a tent set up outside, and in front of the tent was a desk. Sitting at the desk was the minister’s secretary, with his phone, which didn’t work. The professor announced he’d come to see the minister.

“I’ll see if he’s in,” the secretary said. Then he got up, went to the tent, unzipped the flap, entered, and then zipped the flap back up. Despite the noise of the chugging generator, the professor could clearly hear the secretary tell the minister he was waiting outside and hear the minister’s reply.

“Tell him I’m not in,” said the minister.

The secretary came out, sat at his desk and announced. “I’m sorry. He’s not in.”

As disasters go, few are as much trouble as home remodeling. It’s a bit like a self-induced earthquake—there is dust, shaking, falling plaster, screams and shouts. At some point everyone runs outside. The electricity goes out. Inevitably, something is revealed—perhaps even the tattered social fabric of a shaken civilization.

When I started my home restoration business, I hadn’t really given much thought to the potential for sociological research. But over the years I’ve come to realize that my job gives me a unique insight into the urban life in early 21st century. A few observations:

Family Structure: My introduction to North and South Park was through Brooklyn Heights Presbyterian Church, at 30th and Fir, which my family attended every Sunday throughout my childhood. The families I encountered there were for the most part white, heterosexual, with three or more children, a working father and a stay-at-home mother. Today, that “traditional” American family is not in much evidence.

Among the families that have contacted me, either through this column or through my business: gay couples of either sex, sometimes married, sometimes not; opposite-sex couples who are not married but who live together; single gay men living alone; single gay men living together platonically; divorced straight women living alone; couples of different races; couples of different ethnicities; couples of different ages and so on.

There are married couples with newborns; married couples with toddlers; married couples with a baby on the way; married couples with a kid in college. What I don’t see a lot of is married couples with two or more kids between the ages of five and 18.

Occupation: If the traditional family seems on life support, so too for the traditional occupations: bank teller, accountant, teacher, lawyer, doctor, police officer, store clerk. Recently, I’ve worked for a marriage and family counselor, a musician who plays antique instruments; a tattoo artist, an industrial designer, an automobile designer, a ballet instructor, two helicopter pilots and one charter pilot. There are clients who manage their investments, clients who manage their grandchildren, clients who provide expert testimony in court cases, clients who are advisors to the movies. Many people work from home doing things I don’t fully understand. Ditto for those in the tech fields and bioresearch. Quite a few people are retired, which I’m sorry to report doesn’t involve much in the way of leisure. In fact, everyone I encounter seems to be engaged in purposeful activity all the livelong day.

Home Entertainment: The TV doesn’t occupy the prominent place it once did in the household. Bungalow homeowners seem loath to modify their house’s architecture to accommodate the television. In fact, two different clients recently told me they didn’t even own one. People still watch TV—statistics tell us that. They just never do it while I’m around. Perhaps they watch it on their computer, which has taken over as the dominant household electronic device. People still read the newspaper, or at least they read this column—but on their laptop.

Communication: Like a pesky virus, the preferred method of communication for the American teenager has now spread to the rest of the population. You don’t need to invade anyone’s house with hammer to know this. On every street corner you’ll see someone staring intently at his or her palm. It is now possible to communicate with your contractor, or anyone else who needs pestering, at all hours of the day or night, without speaking, without connecting to the internet, without opening a laptop, without doing anything more than squinting at a tiny screen and stabbing at tiny little imitation typewriter keys.

Despite all this communicating going on, spouses never actually talk. If I say to the husband, “The house almost burned down,” I have to remember to tell the wife, too. Perhaps if I tweeted it, texted it, emailed it and put it on Facebook, everyone would know.

Decoration and style: Many of the houses I visit would fit right into any historical home tour, although homeowners don’t often see it that way. Maybe they’re comparing their home to something they’ve seen on TV or in a magazine or to a very strict interpretation of an historic house type. Not that they don’t love their old house, and relish its uniqueness, its quirks. But few attempt to recreate what might have once been, using antique and contemporary arts and crafts furniture, lighting, pottery, paintings, metal ware and rugs. I’ve come across a couple of amazing art collections this year, and two or three homeowners have had some nice pieces of Mission-style furniture, both originals and reissues. But few people put it all together into one harmonious environment.

Analysis: The first paper I wrote for an upper division sociology class left something to be desired. “All observation,” my teacher wrote, “no analysis.” I’ll try to do better here: I’m not sure why there are fewer “traditional” American families in the neighborhoods where they once reigned supreme. Maybe it’s the schools. Maybe it’s the small houses and small yards. Maybe there are just fewer “traditional” families left.

And maybe there were always non-traditional families living in these neighborhoods. We just didn’t notice them. One look at the city directories of the era and you’ll see that not every house was filled with two parents and 3.5 children.

Some people assume residents are drawn to neighborhoods like Hillcrest, North Park and Golden Hill for the diversity. But in my experience, people move to San Diego’s older neighborhoods for the charm and convenience they offer. The diversity just happens. What the residents of these once-forgotten communities have in common is their differences,—where there once was white homogeneity, there is now a rainbow of quirky colors. If they share anything else, it is their love for their old houses—and their addiction to their hand-held electronic devices.