Electrical Irony

As I wander around Seattle, in service of The Major Concern (which, I might as well tell you, is the power company) I am both struck, and somewhat saddened, by the irony of it all.

The Major Concern is a municipal utility: It's owned by the city. That's somewhat lefty of it, and springs from what I consider to be a fascinating history of a working class port city. A very short history: An upstart Irishman sees potential for cheap electrical service via hydro. The corporations that control the power don't like that, but the Irishman talks the city into investing in it. The city builds their own dams, the corporations have a spaz, and try to oust the Irishman. The citizens rebel. Public power prevails. Thus, we have cheap, and remarkably reliable, electricity in the city limits.

The trouble is, Seattle is expensive. Damn expensive - particularly where housing is concerned. So much so that we are now in the unusual position of providing very cheap electricity to increasingly wealthy people.

Most of my co-workers (a middle-class bunch if there ever was one) live outside Seattle. The neighborhoods and homes that, a generation ago, they would have lived in, now go for ridiculous amounts of money that normal people with kids can't afford. Those folks now live in suburban cities, far from Seattle, and in the firm grasp of the private power company, that is much more expensive and not nearly as reliable.

Part of my job is working with people who are building new homes or remodeling old ones, and we are swamped. That's great for job security, but it's kind of sad, as Seattle has been developed for quite some time. That means that most new construction sits on the site of previous homes, and remodeling are usually butcher jobs of what were once perfectly respectable homes.

Just today, I did a final reading for a house that is doomed: The whole block, in what was once a sleepy Norwegian neighborhood, is coming down for some smarmily marketed condos (note to Ericababy: Who comes up with those names?). I walked through the gate in the picket fence, into the backyard, past the rosebushes and lilac trees, to the meter by the porch, and read the consumption. Then I paused for a moment on the back stoop to reflect.

In a few day, they'll come and disconnect the power. Then the construction crew will come in, and the rosebush and lilac tree will be gone, and the tidy little green house with it - and all of its neighbors.

In a remarkably short period of time, there will rise a whole block of cookie cutter condos, with a hopelessly incongruous, Italian-inspired name (Ballard, meet Tuscany. I'm sure you two have a lot in common) Each unit selling for more than what The Colonel and I paid for our comparatively huge home.

That's progress, of course - and I'm sure the little green house was considered an outrage by a previous generation of Catalinas. But I think I'd feel better about things if I thought that we were using the land more wisely, and allowing more middle-income types to live here, and enjoy (among other things) our cheap, reliable, electricity.

I think that I'm over thinking my job.