My house was always the biggest, nicest house on the block. Surrounded by an entire block of one-story craftsman-style cottages, our red brick two-story home has a distinctive presence in their midst. Especially in recent years, as the smaller houses were allowed to deteriorate and became visibly neglected, my house still exudes integrity.

Over the years, the decline of the block has been steady. For the last ten years, as the properties became more and more decayed, the edgy tenants occupying them kept pit bulls tied on their porches and old mattresses on the curb. When I first moved back to Dallas in 1992, there was a lot of gunfire on the weekends around here. Once, digging in the back yard, I found a bullet in the garden. It's been pretty dicey over here for quite awhile.

This past year the decline has been replaced by a different form of aggression: total destruction. Houses are becoming bulldozer fodder so fast that every time you drive down the street, another house is missing. Obviously, the complaint is a temporary one in a trend of gradual upgrade. The loss of property on this block has brought a decided improvement in some ways. No more pit bulls or mattresses, the neighborhood is safer and there's certainly a lot less gunfire nowadays.

My block is zoned multi-family, which means that developers have been circling this block like sharks for the past few years because they can build 3-story townhomes and condos in place of the predominantly single-family homes and duplexes that have populated it up until now. Now, instead of ramshackle duplexes where meth freaks and illegal immigrants recently lived are townhomes with price tags of $250,000 to $400,000. The expectation of better neighbors is certainly one of the reasons this seems like a good thing to have happened to the neighborhood. Already, we're seeing wholesome-looking joggers and well-dressed young professionals walking small dogs. This profile is definitely a new one, a welcome one, for this particular neighborhood.

Now that I've offered evidence of my gratitude for the the improvement this represents, here's the downside: my home is getting swallowed by development. Like a line of dominoes, the houses are going down one by one. A new quadrant of townhomes takes up one quarter of my block now, and an entire half of the block is an empty lot that will soon be busily churning with bulldozers and hordes of construction workers. This will take place about one foot on the other side of my driveway. See my diagram of the changes on this block (below).

Shall I consider this the aggravation of transition? Eggs getting broken in order to make omelets? Or should I consider it a migratory signal, a wind I should blow with, an end to an era here? One wing of urban real estate wisdom says to sell rather than become the last older house on a block. Another philosophic wing of urban real estate wisdom says that it's the older house on a block that's the most desirable to acquire. Yet another aphorism says that real estate sales peak every 15 years or so. We've been at the peak for a couple of years here, and the peak appears to be leveling off, on a slight decline now. These conflicting philosophies complicate making a clear decision. There's a lot to consider from a practical viewpoint, but none of it has been accompanied by offers to buy my house. That's why I am going with the flow-of-the-moment and staying put.

All the changes stirring up the dust around here makes it an unsettling position to be in, of course. But the fact of the matter is that this house is a mere 2.5 miles from the center of the city, so the real estate value isn't likely to suffer, au contraire. Land value is the only value of houses in Dallas now. This tear-down trend is sweeping the entire city, eating up great houses, even mansions in rich neighborhoods, without prejudice. Nowhere is safe from bulldozing and townhouse development.

Living in a house that is paid for certainly keeps expenses down, despite the taxes, which are going up but are still far from what most of my friends around the country in other cities, both large and small, are paying. Living in a house that you grew up in is a rare privilege anymore, and I don't take it for granted for one second. Until there's a cosmic signal of an absolute sign to indicate the time to move on –like a respectable offer to buy the house– I'm not inclined to leave just because the block's going through an upheaval of improvement.

Is my cup half full, or half empty? Is it best to stand strong through the winds of change, to persevere and await the calm of renewal? I'm riding the tornado, a little uneasy with the rotation, but keeping my head clear in the midst of the flying debris. No matter the upheaval of surrounding change, there's no place like home, as Dorothy said to the wizard.