Thursday, June 23, 2016

Making sense of the quest for tiny homes June 5, 2016

LAS CRUCES - Will we ever agree on a Goldilocks standard for that iconic manifestation of the America dream: the single-family home?
After perusing the eclectic offerings on the 2016 Las Cruces Home Tour, I postponed the tour itself to binge-watch the “Tiny House Hunters” series on HGTV.
I found a lot of it baffling, as I do many preferences of the mostly Millennials who covet the teensy abodes.
I can understand the lure of escaping crippling mortgages, especially for children of the Great Recession, and for a generation with so many members saddled with crippling college loan debt. In many cases, the debt is larger than the amount many Baby Boomers paid for our first homes. What’s equally shocking is that some of the tiny houses are in the price range of considerably larger homes.
I watched with claustrophobic fascination as a young single pondered how she might fit herself, her large dog and, occasionally, her six-foot-two-inch boyfriend, in a tiny rectangle with a cramped “sleeping loft,” miniscule bathroom with a toilet in the shower stall, and microscopic kitchen with the only sink in the house. Luckily, it was just a few feet from the bathroom. Closet space seemed considerably more limited than the storage area in the file cabinets in my little office cubicle (which seemed pretty spacious after my “Tiny House” marathon).
I remained perplexed. I understand and applaud so much of what Millennials have in common with the best of the tree-hugging, flower children segment of my generation. I applaud the desire to recycle, reuse, downsize, minimize one’s carbon footprint and value quality over quantity and substance over status.
On the other hand, the obsession with size can be pretty dumb on any scale.
There seems to be a lot of emphasis on custom builds, distinctive style (from yurts to miniature versions of San Francisco’s Victorian Painted Ladies) and portability. Whatever the final choice, it seems, the house has to be mounted on wheels and easily transportable to a special site, or for a year-long U.S. tour, in the case of one young married couple. (Their impossible mission included a quest for individual office space for each partner within their Lilliputian mansion.)
In the end, some of the tiny home owners ended up paying enough for their little dwelling to buy a two- or three-bedroom home in many U.S. communities, including Las Cruces. And many faced additional land rental fees that are as much as mortgage payments for a considerably larger starter house.
Given their desire for small size and mobility, I was amazed that none of the house hunters considered the obvious: pre-fab or modular homes, mobile homes or even vintage Airstream trailers, RVs or campers. I’ve even seen some high-end, stylish sheds at local home improvement emporiums that could be transformed into nice living spaces for a fraction of what the aspiring home owners seemed willing to pay.
I admit I’m happily fixed in a right-sized home in a neighborhood I like. But I understand desires that transcend age, income levels and cultural heritage.
I remember when my sister, then in her early 20s, lived on a tiny old yacht with her husband, small daughter and very large dog. She grumbled about having to give something up for every new thing she brought aboard. They were moored at the same harbor for most of time, but they loved the rare voyage on Florida’s Intracoastal ( CQ ) Waterway, and the boat people and the lifestyle. Sally continued to miss the sea and slept on a waterbed for decades after she became a landlubber again.
I get lots of texts, e-mails and visits from friends and relatives off on endless adventures in their RVs, some of them far from tiny and just as opulent as the suburban homes they’ve sold or rarely inhabit these days.
And I finally got it: the tiny, custom home on wheels thing. It’s not really about the size or the money.
It’s about the real American dream: the freedom to go wherever and whenever and however you desire. Whether it’s practical or even possible is another matter. It’s the potential that’s important.
That’s the thing about dreams: they’re yours and you want what you want.

S. Derrickson Moore may be reached at 575-541-5450, dmoore@lcsun-news.com or @derricksonmoore on Twitter.

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