The Sunnyvale Sun

Letters & Opinions

Life issues and those pesky shades of gray

By Carol Bogart

Some in Sunnyvale point out that property taxes generated by residential development won't sweeten the general revenue pot. What's needed, they say, is "more retail." Others, though, decry the city's lack of affordable housing. Development--whether in the form of a revamped mall or the possibility of high-rise condominiums--is a hot button issue for this community.

A friend once told me he "was cursed with always seeing the shades of gray." Life, he said, is so much simpler when issues are black or white.

I used to be pretty black and white about development. Having been raised on a farm, I was against it. Period.

Funny how your perspective changes when it's your money on the line.

In 1996, I invested most of what was left of my inheritance in my farm. I thought of it, first and foremost, as a unique and wonderful place to raise my son. Since, as is true of the majority of Americans, the lion's share of my net worth was wrapped up in my real estate, I also gave some thought to what it would be worth when the time came to sell.

It had 12 acres of harvestable hardwood trees: veneer-quality walnut, white and red oak that grew straight and tall and more. The farm also was a pretty easy commute to major cities.

Too, it was located between two rural communities that were annexing county areas like mad and extending the sewers. I'd heard the axiom: "Growth follows the sewers." The farm was sandwiched between the coming expansions.

The farmhouse on the property was a ramshackle, unsalvageable mishmash of add-ons. I tore most of it down and built new.

Then, I "developed" the rest of the property with fencing and pastures.

Much of the "open space" surrounding the buildings had already been "developed" by farmers who'd cleared the land of trees, picked up the rocks and planted crops.

By township ordinance--in an attempt to protect the "family farm" from carpetbagger developers--no property could be split more than five times and no parcel could be less than 5 acres.

After just six years there, I loved my 46 acres like you would if you'd lived there all your life. I knew where the deepest, best fishing holes were in the creek; could just about predict when we'd start to hear the spring peepers (tree frogs); had counted as many as 32 wild turkeys in the low field; and had learned where, in the woods, I'd be most likely to spot a morel mushroom.

I never did cut those trees in my woods. I loved the woods more than I wanted the $3,600 I could have gotten for the hardwoods.

Eventually, though, my liquid assets were exhausted and I had to sell. The promise of a woods, pristine and peaceful, helped attract buyers.

Today, what had been 46 contiguous acres is two parcels. One is about 7 acres--a young doctor and his wife live there. On the other 39 acres, another doctor built a lavish home for his wife and four children at the top of a ravine.

I'm thankful both families love nature as much as I do.

The doctor who bought the larger parcel has taken the fields out of production and seeded them with native grasses to provide habitat for grouse and pheasants. He may hunt a few. Still, it's 11 acres of new habitat for all sorts of wildlife.

Removing the field from production is good for the creek, too. No more farm fertilizer and pesticide run off during planting and growing seasons.

The first newspaper editor I worked for remarked if it ever comes to a point in this country that there isn't enough acreage left to grow food, developers will start ripping out the asphalt to create new fields.

Supply and demand.

It's been said the world needs extremists. That's how you find the middle ground.

Even the most ardent conservationist knows development will likely equal more property taxes which means more money for schools. A thriving "high density" downtown means more shoppers, which equals more sales tax, which puts money into the general fund to support infrastructure such as roads, services such as public safety and health care for the underinsured.

Here in Sunnyvale, I'm learning the development issue, as elsewhere, does not lend itself very readily to an extremist, black-or-white perspective.

Each would argue it's about quality of life. And it is.

In shades of gray.

Carol Bogart is the new editor of the Sunnyvale Sun. Contact her at cbogart@community-newspapers.com or call 408.200.1055.