Community Conversations | Heritage Homes, A Different Way to Think About Housing

I think we need to change the way we talk about housing.

For a long time, we've treated bigger as better. More square footage. Bigger yards. More bedrooms. More bathrooms. And for some families, that's exactly what they want.

But what if it isn't?

What if someone wants a beautiful home, a front porch, a little yard, and a neighborhood they love... but they don't want 2,500 square feet to clean, heat, cool, repair, and maintain?

What if we built neighborhoods around that choice?

I'm calling them Heritage Homes.

Heritage Homes would be permanent, owner-occupied homes built on smaller lots in thoughtfully designed, higher-density neighborhoods. They're not temporary housing, and they're not restricted to a certain age or stage of life.

They're just homes.

We've Built Neighborhoods Like This Before

This isn't a radical new housing concept. In fact, some of America's most beloved older neighborhoods were built with smaller homes, smaller lots, sidewalks, front porches, mature trees, and neighbors living physically closer to one another.

I've had the opportunity to visit Sugar House in Salt Lake City, and it has always stuck with me. Some of the streets look like they fell out of a storybook. There are beautiful homes, tree-lined streets, sidewalks, and businesses and amenities within walking distance.

These homes aren't undesirable because they're physically closer together. Quite the opposite. People want to live there, and the value of homes in desirable neighborhoods like these can be significant.

I think there's something we can learn from that. We don't necessarily need to invent a completely new kind of housing. Maybe we need to remember some of the things we used to do well.

Smaller Can Mean Freedom

There's a tendency to talk about smaller homes exclusively as an option for younger people who can't afford something larger. I think that's a mistake because housing needs change throughout our lives.

Imagine you've spent 30 or 40 years maintaining a larger family home. The kids are grown, you don't need four bedrooms anymore, and maybe you don't want to spend Saturday mowing a huge lawn or cleaning rooms nobody uses.

Why should your choices be limited to staying in a home that's become too much to maintain or moving into an apartment or age-restricted development?

Choosing a Heritage Home isn't moving backward.

It can be moving forward with dignity.

You still own your home. You still have your own front door, kitchen, yard, and porch. But there's less to clean, less to maintain, less yard work, and your neighbors are physically closer.

For an older resident, that could mean remaining independent longer while still being part of a traditional neighborhood. For a young professional, it could mean owning a home without maintaining thousands of square feet. For a single parent, it could simply mean having a home that's manageable.

That's the point. Heritage Homes aren't designed for one kind of person or one stage of life.

They're another choice.

The Tornado Changed How I Think About Space

Before the tornado, I had conversations with people about homes around 400 or 750 square feet. Some people couldn't imagine it. I actually had people laugh at the idea that 750 square feet could be enough space to live comfortably.

Then the tornado hit.

Suddenly, families in our community were displaced into hotel rooms that may be around 250 square feet. There's no full kitchen, no laundry room, no private bedroom, very little storage, and sometimes an entire family is living and sleeping in one room.

Those families didn't choose this, and it is never my intention to minimize what they've experienced by comparing displacement after a disaster to voluntarily choosing a home. But I do think this experience has challenged the way I think about square footage.

Maybe square footage alone isn't what determines whether a space is livable.

Design matters.

Imagine a thoughtfully designed 750-square-foot Heritage Home with a real kitchen, laundry, separate sleeping spaces, storage, tall ceilings, your own front door, a porch, and a little yard. Suddenly, 750 square feet feels very different from a 750-square-foot box.

Design the Space Differently

One of the designs I've toured uses 14-foot ceilings and loft space to make a smaller footprint feel dramatically larger. Instead of simply asking, "How big can we make this house?" we're asking, "How well can we use the space?"

But one of my favorite ideas actually came from Lu Scheer, the Housing Grants Specialist for Winnebago County. I want to give her full credit for this because I think her idea is genius.

When the home is built, plan for its future.

Imagine building a 750-square-foot Heritage Home while also pouring an additional 750-square-foot concrete pad behind it. Then... do nothing.

Maybe it stays a patio forever. Put the grill out there, add some furniture, invite the neighbors over, and enjoy it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

But someday your life might change. Maybe you need a nursery. Maybe you'd like another bedroom. Maybe a parent needs to move in. Maybe you need a home office. Or maybe this is Wisconsin and you've finally decided it's time for the Packer game room.

The home has room to grow if you want it to.

You don't have to pay for that addition today, maintain it today, or ever build it at all. The homeowner gets to decide what works for their life and when.

That's what I love about Lu's concept.

The home adapts to the person instead of expecting the person to adapt to the house.

Now Let's Talk About Land

This is where Heritage Homes become more than a housing conversation.

Menasha, Neenah, and Fox Crossing don't have unlimited land. We can't simply continue expanding outward forever, so if we want our communities to continue growing, we need to think about how we're using the land we already have.

When I toured a small-home village in Oshkosh, one number stuck with me: 32 homes on approximately 3.5 acres.

The development itself is transitional housing rather than individually owned homes, so it isn't the model I'm proposing. What interested me was seeing what that use of land actually looked and felt like.

It made me wonder what those same 3.5 acres could look like as a traditional, owner-occupied Heritage Homes neighborhood.

What Could That Mean for Our Tax Base?

Let's use a very simplified hypothetical.

Imagine 3.5 acres with one large, 5,000-square-foot home assessed at $750,000. That's $750,000 of taxable property value on 3.5 acres.

Now imagine those same 3.5 acres thoughtfully designed for 32 owner-occupied Heritage Homes. Even if each home were valued at only $100,000, that's $3.2 million in taxable property value.

Same land.

$750,000 versus $3.2 million.

And I think we could be underestimating what these homes might actually be worth.

These would be real properties participating in the regular housing market. They would be bought, sold, and appraised based on comparable properties and market demand just like other homes. If they're well-built, attractive, located in a desirable neighborhood, and people want to live there, their values could reflect that demand.

That's why density deserves a conversation.

For land-constrained communities, creating more taxable value per acre can help support roads, parks, police, fire protection, utilities, libraries, and the other services residents depend on without relying exclusively on outward growth.

That doesn't mean we should cram as many houses as physically possible onto every available piece of property. Infrastructure matters. Parking matters. Traffic matters. Green space matters. Design matters.

But density shouldn't automatically be treated like a dirty word.

Good density can be beautiful.

What About "Not in My Backyard?"

This may be one of the biggest challenges.

People tell me we need more housing choices. They tell me their adult children can't find houses they can afford. Older residents tell me they'd love to downsize, but they don't necessarily want an apartment or an age-restricted community.

Then we start talking about putting homes closer together and suddenly...

"Well... not in my neighborhood."

To some extent, I understand that hesitation. If you can't picture what a Heritage Homes neighborhood would actually look like, "high-density housing" probably doesn't sound particularly appealing.

So let's change the picture.

Imagine tree-lined streets, front porches, sidewalks, beautiful architecture, smaller yards, pocket parks, and community spaces. Imagine neighbors close enough that you actually know their names.

Maybe your retired neighbor needs help mowing her small patch of grass, and the teenager two doors down walks over and does it for her. Maybe the young couple next door just had their first baby. Maybe there's a single professional across the street and a family with three kids around the corner.

That's a neighborhood.

And that's an important part of the Heritage Homes concept.

No Special Label Required

I don't want to create neighborhoods divided by age, income, occupation, or stage of life.

Heritage Homes don't need to be "55+ housing." They don't need to be reserved for people under 30 or limited to veterans. They don't need an HOA telling you what flowers you're allowed to plant, either.

The whole point is that these would be traditional neighborhoods open to anyone who wants to live there.

A house becomes available, and if you like it and want to buy it... you buy it.

Maybe you're 25. Maybe you're 45. Maybe you're 75.

That's how neighborhoods work.

And there's value in mixing generations and experiences. Children grow up knowing older neighbors. Older residents have younger families nearby. Someone grabs your package while you're away. Someone helps shovel the sidewalk. Someone notices when they haven't seen you for a few days.

Physical proximity can help create human connection.

Moving Forward With Dignity

I think we need to be particularly careful about the language we use when talking about housing for older residents.

The biggest house you've ever owned doesn't have to be the final measurement of your success.

If someone has spent decades working, raising a family, and building a life, choosing a smaller, easier-to-maintain home shouldn't be framed as taking a step backward. Maybe success at 70 simply looks different than success at 35.

Maybe success is owning a beautiful home that's completely paid for. Maybe it's having less maintenance and more money to travel. Maybe it's sitting on your front porch talking to your neighbors instead of spending Saturday maintaining a property you no longer need.

Maybe it's having exactly enough space for the life you're living now instead of maintaining space for the life you lived 20 years ago.

That's not going backward.

That's moving forward with dignity.

Heritage Homes Are About Choice

I don't think everyone should live in a Heritage Home. I don't think every neighborhood should look like this, and I certainly don't think government should decide how much house someone is allowed to own.

I want more choices, not fewer.

If you want a large house and a large yard, wonderful. If you want an apartment or condo, those options should exist too. And if you want a beautiful, permanently constructed home on a smaller lot in a walkable neighborhood where you actually know the people living around you... why shouldn't that choice exist?

For land-constrained communities like Menasha, Neenah, and Fox Crossing, Heritage Homes could give us another tool. They could provide more opportunities for homeownership, more choices for people at different stages of life, more efficient use of limited land, and potentially more taxable value per acre.

But there may be another benefit that's harder to put into a spreadsheet.

More neighbors who actually know each other.

Maybe the future of housing doesn't have to mean building bigger.

Maybe part of moving forward is remembering what made our old neighborhoods work so well in the first place.

That's the idea behind Heritage Homes.