I'm amazed at how the entire scale of living shifts when I visit my sister in Maryland. I live on Long Island, site of the original US postwar suburban development, where communities continue to be dominated by the tiny, architectually undistinguished, tract houses celebrated in song (below) as "little boxes." But where my sister lives, the suburbs are of very recent origin, and McMansions -- huge beyond belief -- are the order of the day. Both the size and the aesthetics are grander in these Maryland developments (one tract I've seen looks like an entire neighborhood of Georgian-style public libraries or town halls) but the conformist cookie-cutter mentality basically remains unchanged from the humble 1950s developments of Long Island.
Take it away, Pete Seeger:
Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky-tacky, Little boxes, little boxes, Little boxes, all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they're all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses All go to the university, And they all get put in boxes, Little boxes, all the same. And there's doctors and there's lawyers And business executives, And they're all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same.
And they all play on the golf-course, And drink their Martini dry, And they all have pretty children, And the children go to school. And the children go to summer camp And then to the university, And they all get put in boxes And they all come out the same.
And the boys go into business, And marry, and raise a family, And they all get put in boxes, Little boxes, all the same. There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they're all made out of ticky-tacky And they all look just the same.
(By Malvina Reynolds)
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Boxes>
Carl