A quick search suggests that there are somewhere in the neighborhood of three-quarters of a million people in the United States who are “unhoused.” I must admit that I expected that number to be larger, perhaps due to the high visibility of the country’s “homeless” population, magnified by plenty of media coverage regarding the issue.
Whatever the accurate number is, we can all agree that it is far greater than it should be. For most of us, it is hard to get our minds around the uncertainties these unfortunate fellow citizens face, or the challenges the situation presents for all levels of government, and the society in general. So far, it seems, no one has been able to come up with a workable, long-term solution for the problem.
More surprisingly, the results of a similar search indicate that there are a staggering 15 million vacant homes in America. Of that number, almost five million are seasonal properties used part-time, vacation homes, and cabins. Of the remainder, only about 2.5 million are available for rent and fewer than 800,000 are for sale on the market. Others are undergoing repairs or held off-market for legal or personal reasons, or kept vacant by investors.
So, the arithmetic says that for every homeless person in the country, there are roughly twenty vacant houses. What is wrong with this picture? I suppose there are as many theories and opinions as people who think about this sort of thing.
I do want to make it clear that I’m not trying to suggest that we don’t need to continue to build new homes. First off, roughly 350,000homes require replacement each year due to losses caused by fire, severe weather, flooding, and simple obsolescence. And not all existing residential structures are in locations that are considered desirable for one reason or another.
Beyond that, home building represents roughly 16 percent of the U.S. economy and employs an estimated nearly 3 percent of the total employed civilian workforce. It is hard to imagine a scenario where we won’t require a considerable number of newly built homes every year.
All of these facts are interesting, in and of themselves, but they don’t tell the whole story.
Whenever I go into a vacant home, whether it is aged or modern, opulent or modest, and regardless where it is located, I feel a sadness and an undeniable sense of emptiness. Even in a professionally furnished and beautifully staged model home in a brand-new subdivision, there is just something missing.
We don’t build houses just for the sake of doing so. We build them because people need them and because of that, they need people. The silence of a vacant house is deafening and unsettling. Houses need the sounds of people’s voices, of laughter, the routine commotion of occupancy, perhaps the sounds of music.
When actively building homes for clients, I was always amazed upon seeing the lights on for the first time as I approached for a visit after their move-in. Viewing their furnishings and other belongings in the context of their space, hearing their chatter or the barking of the family dog, reassured me that we had done something together that was worthwhile, something that mattered.
There is a good reason why it is recommended that a seller bake cookies when a prospective buyer is coming for a tour. The barren rooms and hallways of an empty house are no match for the sights and sounds and smells of an occupied home. Without people to fill its spaces, a house is simply a container.
Some people say that a number of the unsheltered people in the country choose to be. I won’t dispute that even though I have no credible evidence either way. What I do know is that I experience the same feeling that something is just not right whenever I witness a person living on the streets as I do when I see a house that is dark and silent and empty.
I can’t help thinking that we need both fewer unhoused people and vacant houses.