Last Friday I put my house on the market. I tossed and turned the whole night before, desperate for it to be daybreak so I could call a realtor. After all, I live in the Center Historic District and after reading Fred Hinchliffe’s letter in last week’s Press, who can blame me for wanting to get out of here as fast as I can? As to why I’ve remained living here for 35 years, I can plead only blissful ignorance. Silly me, I had no idea I was under the control of busy-bodies, control freaks, and worse! I was oblivious to the fact that I was being exploited for some sort of tourist destination. How gullible of me to have thought the Historical Commission was working with me to assure that Harvard remains the beautiful town that it is. How overly-trusting to think the commission was giving me guidelines to help me be a responsible steward of my old house, a house I had thought of as happily historical, only to discover it is preciously pickled!
Ignoramus that I must be, I always thought that historic preservation is a laudable goal, that honoring the past better informs our present and our future. Living in the center, I have felt an intense sense of community, in part because my neighborhood is “proof” of the greater community’s commitment to preserve the history of the town we love. What a delusion! The truth is my neighbors and I have been victims of scare tactics and pandering. Thank heavens for the enlightenment! I’m wasting no time dumping this pickled place and checking out homes for sale in a neighborhood that values rationality, open-mindedness, and unselfishness. Maybe there’s something in Still River.
Carlene Phillips
Oak Hill Road
