Wednesday, 11 May 2011

Wearing Genes


I live in a suburb of Dallas, which perhaps experienced the greatest amount of growth since 2000 than any other city in the country.  This town is one populated mostly by young (30-40 years of age) adults who are affluent or are in deep in debt with many children in tow.   I purchased a new house in 2003 in a new subdivision with only one street of residences complete.  Today there are multiple streets with no empty lots. 

All of the neighborhoods in the city built after 2000 have Home Owner Associations (HOA).  In Texas, the HOAs carry considerable clout and can secure the house if the home owner does not comply with the conditions and rules of the HOA.   A couple of examples are noted to show the zaniness of this power.  The first occurred in 2008 and the latter in 2010.
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Jim Greenwood said he never dreamed his HOA would have a problem with his new Ford F-150 pickup. Then he received the first of three notices threatening him with fines.
“Mr. Greenwood, you’re violating a subdivision rule that prohibits pickup trucks in your driveway,” the notice reads.
Stonebriar HOA rules allow several luxury trucks on driveways, including the Cadillac Escalade, Chevy Avalanche, Honda Ridgeline and Lincoln Mark LT.
But most Ford, Dodge or Chevy pickups are restricted.  1
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Michael Clauer is a captain in the Army Reserve who commanded over 100 soldiers in Iraq. But while he was fighting for his country, a different kind of battle was brewing on the home front. Last September, Michael returned to Frisco, Texas, to find that his homeowners' association had foreclosed on his $300,000 house—and sold it for $3,500.  His wife distraught with serve depression over her husband’s deployment avoided contact with the outside world including notices from the HOA that the $800 HOA fee was overdue and foreclosure would follow. 2

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As a condition of living in my neighborhood, all home owners must have a 6’ – 8’ wooden fence that connects to the side of the house and surrounds the back yard.  Last month all home owners in my neighborhood received the HOA quarterly newsletter that reminded us to keep our lawns cut, flower beds free of weeds, and repair or replace fences that are leaning, unstained or have damaged slats.  My fence is guilty on all 3 accounts.

My fence is just over 8 years old and has exceeded the life expectancy of builder grade fences.  Without question, it needs to be replaced. This week, I caved and called a company to provide an estimate to replace the fence.  Suffice to say, the HOA has to approve the fence proposal on which the fence builder and I agreed.   The cost is steep and it is the primary reason I have delayed in replacing it. 

A recent thunderstorm, one of many the U.S. experienced in April that spawned over 800 tornados, presented itself with 70 mph winds.  As a consequence, a section of my fence blew down.   Unfortunately, this is at least the 3rd incidence, each one being a different section.  Each time I did patch work to bring the fence back to an upright position.  If the truth be told, I am hardly what one would consider a handyman beyond temporary fixes.  I can not cut a piece of square wood nor do I do well where water is involved…just ask my daughter when she asked me to take a look at her leaky shower.  As I look at my crude workmanship, I thought, if only my dad could see this.  He might actually be proud of my eyesore from the master bedroom window. 

My father was probably the most resourceful person I have known.  He would rather rebuild an engine than replace the car, or repair a mechanical device in lieu of buying a new one.  He was a pack rat when it came to collecting things that he felt he might be able to reuse in the future, i.e., spacers, nuts, bolts, screws, wood, car parts, etc.  He used duct tape, electric tape, rope, bungee cords, and other fasteners to keep things together…I introduced him to safety wire, which I learned to use in the Air Force, and it became another weapon used to mend the broken.  Appearance was not important, functionality was.

Peering into my garage I see similarities to my father’s garage.  It is filled full of items that I “might” use one day.   I haven’t personally changed the oil in my cars in 8 years…I take it to a specialized oil change store, yet I have 3 different sized oil filter removal tools.   I even have stuff that my dad once had in his garage. 

As I get older, I see more of my parents in me than ever before.  I’m sure those genetic traits have always been there, but not as obvious.  Some of the things my wife recently has done reminds me of something I could envision her mother doing.  The fruit never falls too far from the tree.  The only reason my fence is still upright, is because of the genes I wear.  It ain’t pretty, but it’s functional…at least until the HOA cites me as being noncompliant. HH


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