High school teachers and people who publish opinion pieces should probably consider getting unlisted phone numbers. I'm not considering it yet, though. The people who call offer interesting perspectives and plenty of advice . . .

Brrriiiiing!

"Sorry to call you at home, Ms. Hall, but you said it was important for me to advocate for myself, and I want to advocate for you to change my grade to an `A'!."

"Uh, how did you get my number, Lobelia?"

"I looked it up in the phonebook."

"Oh. Right. Well, that's showing initiative! You go, girl! "

Brrrrriiiiiinnng! Brrrrrrriiiiinnng!

"Is this the Jennifer Hall who lives across from the McMansion?"

"Yes! Guilty as charged."

"I wanted to commiserate with you. The same thing happened to us."

"Do tell."

"Well, we once had a view, and the older neighbors were wonderful, and this new house is just. . . so . . . big and . . ."

"I'm there. I hear you."

"But what I want to tell you is, we reclaimed our view! We built a roof deck! Have you considered doing something like that?"

"Well, now that you've mentioned it. . ."

If my remodeling dreams were McMansions, I could house all the homeless in Seattle. It's just a question of finding time and money; money and time. These two commodities are the rub for people like my husband and me. And we're not very different from a lot of people in Seattle. We are part of the educated somewhat-middle class who worked our fannies off to buy houses more than a decade ago. We supposedly did the things we were supposed to do to ensure a middle class lifestyle, but we weren't ambitious, diligent, or cutthroat enough to keep our tax return line above the median gross income for Seattle and King County.

We are among the last bastion of the working class who were able to buy houses in our neighborhood. These days we fight to keep our heads above water, and our eyes looking up towards the horizon. Of course, these days a good bit of our horizon is obliterated by the jutting rectangles of a behemoth in our view. We like to think that if we ever remodel our house, we will do it on a small-scale, satisfyingly green fashion that will not discomfit our neighbors. But who knows what evil lies in the hearts of the nouveau riche? Not that we'll ever be nouveau. Or riche.

A few weeks ago, working class neighbors on our side of 48th Ave. SW (including a landscape architect) sat and had a conversation. We talked about the social, economic, and environmental aspects of McMansion construction. The house across the street from us has reduced the views of several, and commanded attention of many passers-by through its sheer massive incongruousness. You turn up 48th Avenue from Beach Drive at Lowman Beach park and, `Avast ye, me hearties! Thar she rises!'

A typical comment heard from people walking by is that the new house "sticks out like a sore thumb." One neighbor wondered why the new neighbors didn't just come and live on the street for a year or two (in the beautiful house that they tore down) to get the character of the neighborhood before they impacted it. That neighbor's spouse told of a conversation he had with a developer about a multi-million dollar tear-down (with new construction) that is occurring on Beach Drive around the corner from us. He had wondered about his view being affected. The developer had laughed and said, "Then you'll just have to go up, too, won't you?" My neighbor said that he didn't have the money to build up, and besides, why would he want to? Their house was already big enough for their family. Why do people need 4,000 - 5,000 square feet for just a few people to live in, he asked the developer. "That's progress," he was told.

Progress: an interesting and debatable concept, depending upon which side of the street you live on. Websters Dictionary defines `progress' as: "a gradual betterment, especially: the progressive development of humankind." "Progressive development" means "bigger is better" to some of us, I guess.

Our landscape architect neighbor pointed out that there were, in addition to the social aspects of McMansion construction, serious environmental aspects to consider. What if every house that sold in our neighborhood was torn down, and a McMansion built in its place?

We live right by the Puget Sound, a highly sensitive marine environment that is already in grave danger. Our governor has succeeded in passing a multi-million dollar initiative to clean up the Sound, but Seattle's shoreline development practices are out of sync with the new Puget Sound Water Quality Protection Act. Smaller houses have a much smaller environmental impact. The house going up across the street from us is antithetical to the whole theory and practice of protecting and restoring habitat. It is a key example of a housing footprint exceeding lot capacity AND OCCUPANCY.

"That house has a much larger footprint than what is needed," frowned my landscape architect neighbor. I agreed with her for personal, as well as environmental and social reasons. You see, the house across the street from me just up and stomped on a footprint that was already engraved upon my heart.

I don't think I'm anti-progress, but I do miss my first neighbors, and the house that they built themselves some 50 years ago. I'd write about them now if I had the time, but the sun has set behind the big house, and I guess that means it's time for us working folks to go to bed.

Jennifer Hall once considered herself progressive, but she has taken a few steps back. She can be reached via bnteditor@robinsonnews.com