pturo:
The house I grew up in was a subdivision Cape Cod built in, I believe, 1949. We bought it in '59. At that time, although it was certainly no mansion, it was painted white, its materials were honest and its proportions good. We lived in it throughout my school years; my parents moved from it in '74, after I had left home. The neighbourhood was once very nice, but began to decline in the late '70s. Until recently, though, I'd drive by when I was in the area, to look and remember; it looked little changed, except for a creeping carelessness about the lawn and plantings.
Unfortunately, about two years ago, I drove by and was greeted by a shocking sight. The house's well-made, well-proportioned windows had all been replaced with the cheapest possible vinyl replacement windows, complete with those filler strips that make small windows fit big window openings. The roof over the front porch had been stripped away, leaving the front door naked. Much of the landscaping I'd spent so many hot Georgia Saturday afternoons tending (most unwillingly, to be sure) had been brutally hacked down. The place had been painted a garish mustardy gold, and there was a partially disassembled car in the driveway.
All I can say is that I will never go back, except in memory.