Confessions of a Peeping Tommie

I have a confession to make. I like looking into other people's windows. Not with my nose pressed up against the glass, watching people conduct their private affairs, ew no.

But I enjoy observing interiors from the polite distance of the sidewalk, or as I drive by. I never linger, only glancing in communal living areas like living rooms or kitchens to see if kids are playing, hunched over their homework, or some one is tidying up for the night. Or perhaps the inhabitants are having family over that they have not seen in a while and the room is filled with laughter over shared memories or people are sitting down to a meal. But I'm always curious to see who lives in the house that I'm passing by and what are they doing at that moment, what part in the human drama is unfolding within those walls.

With the moving away from communal living- dwellings built on top of one another, crammed next to one another we have lost that connection with our fellow peoples- a common lament. But now we are shrouded in our individual homes, closed off, curtains drawn.

I guess that's why I like an open window. It says that you inherently trust the world and that you're not ashamed of what goes on inside, for it truly is a glimpse into your literal world.

I also love the lighting in interiors. It's usually warm and soft, often with a yellow tinge- especially in the Midwest. It's like a picture taken by a Kodak Brownie camera came to life.

I have lived in 11 places in 25 years. But one thing that has always remained constant is our (my family's) interior lighting. We don't use fancy pink lightbulbs, which apparently can help set the mood, :-) or anything exotic or unusual. Just basic 60 watt bulbs, then switching to CFL's, both of which impart a cozy glow. It's reassuring that no matter where I go, at the end of the day, I can turn on a light and sit in the reassuring glow of a reading lamp. I even snagged our old living room lamps when my parents decided to redecorate so I could continue to enjoy the effect.

Not really having a true place that I call home I guess I am an amateur sidewalk sociologist- trying to collect data without impacting the subject.

The New York Times put out an interesting article about the increasing trend of the upwardly mobile, who either by choice or their employer's decision, in a trade-off for higher salaries or for corporate reasons better left unexamined often have to move across the country. Whether this will continue in our current economy remains to be seen. The article, "The Five Bedroom, Six-Figure Rootless Life" can be found at http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0DE6D61F39F932A35755C0A9639C8B63 " If you want a glimpse on what my life was like growing up, that was kind of it. Except without the overscheduling and the weird "need" to live in a McMansion.

But my current interests, and economic means, often has me wandering neighborhoods where the people have lived in their homes for at least several years, and don't show any signs of leaving due to promotions or company-initiated transfers. This tends to yield richer interior scenes, though the taste in decorating can be somewhat suspect.

Plus, when I did live in white collar paradise a lot of the people in the McMansions weren't home, or the houses were so big that the occupants were sequestered in some interior room, not ironically, the front rooms, which often boasted impressive plate glass or floor to ceiling windows, etc.,

I have enjoyed living in different parts of the country, but I also wonder what is it like to have a firmly rooted sense of home? Walking past strangers' homes sometimes I catch a glimpse, even a bit of understanding of what it might be like.