Burlington Does Not Have a Housing Crisis. It Has a Homeownership Crisis.

The supply of land available for new single-family homes has effectively been exhausted. At the same time, in much of Burlington—particularly among homes built before 1970—the value of the existing house is increasingly comparable to, or even less than, the value of the land on which it sits.

The result is a trend we can already see throughout town: smaller, older homes are being purchased, demolished, and replaced with larger and more expensive homes. As property values continue to rise, this trend is likely to accelerate.

What does that mean for Burlington's future?

It means that the children and young families who grew up here are increasingly being priced out of the community they call home. A generation of Burlington residents may find that they can afford to live here only as renters—or not at all.

There is, however, one significant opportunity remaining: converting underperforming commercial properties into housing.

But we need to be careful about what kind of housing we create.

When these properties are converted into extremely high-density, rental-only developments, we may increase the number of housing units without creating meaningful opportunities for homeownership. And when those properties are owned by large investment firms or private-equity interests, much of the financial benefit of Burlington's rising property values leaves the community.

That is not the outcome Burlington should be pursuing.

If we are serious about keeping young families and first-time buyers in Burlington, we need a housing policy that creates opportunities for residents to become homeowners—not simply more opportunities for investors to collect rent.

The question we should be asking is:

How do we make sure that the economic value created by new housing benefits Burlington residents rather than primarily benefiting outside investors?

How can this trend be reversed?

A simple measure by Town Meeting could send a clear message to developers and the Planning Board that Burlington's housing policy should prioritize homeownership rather than enormous rental properties.

Be it resolved that Town Meeting will not approve a residential rezoning unless the proposed development is a condominium project with no more than 20 units per acre and includes at least 50% studio and one-bedroom units.

Such a policy would not eliminate housing development. Instead, it would establish a clear preference for smaller-scale condominium development that creates opportunities for ownership while still adding housing to the community.

Burlington needs to stop measuring housing success simply by counting units.

We should measure success by whether a young family that grew up in Burlington can actually afford to buy a home here.

It is time to make homeownership—not rental investment—the priority.

 The Ed Schuler Saga.

Ed Schuler shot a 75 on Tuesday, one stroke less than his age.

That brought back a vivid memory.

I've played golf with Ed for more than 50 years and, for most of that time, I could not beat him. I came close a few times, but the excitement and anticipation always led to disaster. Standing on the 18th hole, savoring my impending victory, I would inevitably yank one into the woods, splash one into a pond, or turn a five-foot putt into a returning ten-footer.

My fortunes finally appeared ready to change, thanks to an unfortunate chain of health setbacks for Ed. In the span of one season, he endured three eye surgeries, three broken ribs, and back surgery. When he returned to golf, I was genuinely empathetic and sympathetic to his health challenges.

The unspoken part was: I was finally going to beat him.

On the day of his return, I watched him get out of the car with a slight limp and a patch over one eye. This was it—my moment of triumph.

The victory, however, was both hollow and short-lived.

I won that day by a single stroke, 81 to his 82. I briefly entertained the notion that the tide had finally turned.

The following week, Ed beat me by 12 shots.

I have never recovered.

I took it graciously, like a man. But in a moment of weakness, I admitted to Patty that I was considering poking him in the other eye.

 

For sixty-six years, with hearts full of cheer,

The Burlington Garden Club has blossomed each year.
Sharing knowledge and beauty for all to enjoy,
Teaching where to plant, how to plant, and what to plant—oh my!

Through speaking programs, learning grows,
From seeds and shrubs to flowers and rows.
Experts and friends gather season by season,
Sharing gardening wisdom and nature's reason.

We nurture the birds with food and song,
Helping bees and butterflies all summer long.
Pollinators thrive where our gardens bloom,
Bringing color and life to every room.

Our flower and plant sales brighten the spring,
Offering treasures that gardens will bring.
And planters on the Common, tended with care,
Add beauty and welcome for all who pass there.

We battle the bunnies that nibble at night,
Defend against bugs with knowledge and might.
And beetles beware—we're ready to fight,
Protecting our gardens with delight.

Education and beautification remain our guide,
With dedication and community side by side.
Neighbors and friends, both old and new,
Working together in all that we do.

So if you love gardens, nature, and fun,
Join us in the sunshine and under the sun.
Whether novice or expert, there's room for you—
Come join the Burlington Garden Club, and help our gardens grow too!

 Mr. Chairman, members of the Board, Mr. Dinezio, Mr. Lollar, and Mrs. Mills, thank you.

My family moved to Burlington in 1955, back when the town boasted one traffic light and a few thousand residents. In the 1960s, my class adviser, Ed Fogelberg, told me to stick around—“great things are going to happen here.” Turns out, he wasn’t exaggerating. Burlington has since become a cultural and economic dynamo.

It’s been a privilege to serve over the decades alongside hundreds of people who made that prophecy come true.

But the real fun has been reporting on—and bragging about—the achievements of Burlington’s finest out in the world. It’s quite a list, but not complete. There are many achieving at the highest levels in science, technology, medicine, finance, and industry.

Rodrick McKinnon, Nobel Prize in Chemistry
Kali Flanagan, Olympic gold medalist
Kitty and Peter Carruthers, Olympic silver medalists
Amy Poehler, Emmy winner with 26 nominations
Steven Wright, Academy Award winner
Jay Pandolfo, two-time Stanley Cup champion
Mark Fusco, Hobey Baker Award winner
Scott Fusco, Hobey Baker winner and two-time NCAA champion
Mark Delaney, former head of the Massachusetts State Police
Mike Leone, Director of the Port of Boston
Mark Horgan, Chief Legal Officer of the Navy’s Pacific Fleet
Charlie Murphy, Chairman of the Massachusetts House Ways and Means Committee

Not bad for a town that started with one blinking light.

I’d like to close by recognizing a few people who have inspired me through their service:

Bob Vigneau, former state representative and Burlington war hero
Bob Mercier, our first town administrator
Don Roberts, who built a recreation department for all ages and abilities
Ed Weiner, nearly 40 years on the Board of Health
Joe Keohane, 50 years in youth sports
Janet Sullivan Fitzgerald, a tireless champion of People helping People
Bob Murray, for his constant generosity
My neighbors of 50 years, Chris and Frank Monaco, have over 70 years of service between them
Brian Curtin, 50 years of service, and my friend and mentor since middle school

And finally, my wife of 55 years, Carole—my navigator—who has put up with me all this time with remarkable grace and good humor.

Thank you.

 Flowers

Flowers are the symbols for all occasions,
Quiet companions through life’s many stations.
They stand in joy and bow at sorrow,
Blessing today and comforting tomorrow.

At unions bright with vows and cheer,
And departures softened by petals near,
For young love’s blush and old love’s grace,
Their colors bloom in every place.

Loved alike by bees and birds,
Beyond the reach of human words,
A rainbow planted upon the land,
Nature’s art by heaven’s hand.

They soothe the gardener's heart and mind,
A gentle therapy so rare to find.
They stir the painter’s dreaming eyes,
With shades borrowed from sunsets and skies.

A treat for the eyes, the soul, the nose,
In every garden, their wonder grows.
Each bloom whispers soft and low:
“So long, winter gloom and snow.”

And so they flourish, wild and free,
Tiny miracles for all to see—
From fragile buds to roses tall,
Flowers remain beloved by all.

 Swollen Streams 

Spring slips in on swollen streams,
muddy, murmuring, waking dreams.
Beneath the thaw, new flower schemes
stretch and stir in softened seams.

Returning birds now crowd the sky,
stitched with calls as they swoop and fly.
Bears and bees shake winter’s rest,
while birds begin to build their nests.

Longer days and warmer nights
tilt the world toward growing light.
Oil bills reduce, a pure delight—
worries buried by daffodils bright.

Tucked between the blooms and bliss,
the grass lunges for the sun’s warm kiss.

Beds to edge and lawns to tame,
gutters bent and cleaned again.

So spring arrives, both chore and cheer,
with beauty loud and duties clear—
a season sung in dirt and dreams,
Hope is returning with swollen streams.

 Bizarro Resolutions

Resolve, they say, and you will grow,

With discipline, esteem, and glow.

You’ll master self, you’ll rise, you’ll strive—

At least, if all your goals survive.

But push too hard, aim far too high,

And watch your good intentions die.

So this year, spared from shame and strain,

I’ve flipped the script—Costanza reigns.

For ten long years, the vow was clear:

“Lose ten pounds—this is the year!”

But now I start with bold precision:

I vow to gain—a brave revision.

Two-twenty pounds, a waist of thirty-eight,

I carve in stone my present state.

With iron will and hopeful grin,

I march toward victory… chin first in.

I will watch TV—more, not less.

I’ll nap at length; I’ll nap with zest.

I’ll swear in traffic, loud and proud,

Compose new curses, long and loud.

At the Escadrille, I’ll bravely choose

Appetizer and dessert to lose

All doubt that discipline still lives—

It’s just selective where it gives.

I’ll drive my car, no walk required,

Even next door, when slightly tired.

Recycling? Trash. Efficiency!

The planet waits—this nap’s on me.

At the RMV, I’ll change my line,

Ignoring signs that scream “You’re fine.”

I’ll cut mattress tags without a care—

Come get me, law enforcement, if you dare.

I will procrastinate with skill,

A master class in doing nil.

And thus I claim, with no regret,

Each resolution proudly met.

The bride just offered fudge she made—

A test I pass without delay.

Success is sweet, my path is clear:

This is too easy. Happy New Year!