Staying On

There is something wonderful about property, like other valuable possessions, acquiring the patina of use within the same family group. Our dear friends in Sweden live in a house (a big house!) on an estate which his family has owned since the 17th century. It has enormous formal rooms – with elaborate inlaid parquet and extraordinary Old Master paintings – which are rarely used in today’s informal world except for parties; a few of the paintings have been sold over the years to create the herd of organic dairy cows which is now one of the estate’s sustaining businesses. Our friends have already made arrangements to move to one of the smaller houses on the property three years from now, and let their eldest son, now in his forties, move in with his wife and four daughters. There is a clear sense that at some point in the future, one of those girls will in turn occupy the property, enjoying it while holding it in stewardship for the next generation.

By and large this doesn’t happen much in the US, probably in large part for economic reasons. But I love to see it when it does; the old family house going on to a particular child, or a few siblings, or a group of cousins who work out a schedule for both upkeep and use. It’s more difficult with a co-op, which cannot become a communal property, but even there I always find it wonderful when one of the kids moves into the old family apartment, to create a new domestic life which remains touched by the resonance of what happened there before.

I believe strongly in the ability spaces and things possess to retain and communicate some afterglow of the experiences which have taken place within or around them. This is especially true with beautiful possessions: homes, jewelry, art, and furniture. While no one wants to live in the identically furnished space in which they grew up, there is magic in repossessing a beloved home and re-imaging it with new taste but some of the same furnishings. In my living room I have two green Chinese lamps which lit my grandmother’s sitting room throughout my earlier years; they remind me of her every time I look at them, as does the red lacquer Chinese dresser in our front hall. These objects reassure me, allowing me to feel that I am a link in the chain of my family’s history which are rarely used in today’s informal world except for parties.

This is an aspect of real estate most of us rarely consider: how the accretion of events and memories create a blend of present and past experience which imbues a space with meaning. Especially in a house which remains within a family for generations, this meaning expands as each group of children grows to adulthood and ushers in another generation of children. The story of the house (or apartment) becomes intertwined with that of the family. It’s special, an additional anchor in our increasingly free floating world.