The holidays remind us of what home is supposed to feel like. This year, as Thanksgiving passed and winter settled into Sedona, I realized how much the neighborhood I call home has changed, with little of that change feeling like progress.

I remember how long it would take me to get my car washed because I would stop to visit with my neighbors who were passing by walking their dogs or just out getting some exercise. I remember the annual neighborhood block parties, the Thanksgiving turkey fry parties and how we helped each other decorate our yards for Christmas to fill the hillside with holiday lights — but no more. My neighborhood friends have moved away — fed up with living in a “time share.” No more neighborhood parties. And this year, two homes have Christmas lights — mine and my only neighbor across the street. The rest of the neighborhood is dark and sterile. 

The “heart” of my neighborhood is gone. Friends are replaced with cleaning crews and a continuous cycle of strangers. My interaction with my temporary “neighbors” is warning them to keep their dog on a leash to prevent an attack by a coyote or cautioning them to not feed the javelina or let their children get too close to these wild animals with very sharp teeth. I endure the never-ending pool parties and late-night patio parties that echo down the hillside. I endure the sewer smell in the neighborhood when a house septic system designed for a family of four is now expected to handle ten. And I endure the task of cleaning up trash cans that have been overloaded, put out the night before to be dumped and foraged by the javelina. And in the summer, I have had to stop people from lighting firepits when we were under a severe burn ban.

The original short-term rental law was sold as a way for grandma to make some extra money by renting out a room. Instead, entire homes are short-term rentals owned by people who live out of state. There is no on-property owner to manage the guest, no long-term stake in how the neighborhood functions day to day, or how it affects quality of life. 

Tourism is not the problem. I encourage all to enjoy the beauty of Sedona that brought me here. But visitors would be much better managed in our beautiful hotels, motels and bed and breakfasts. They are designed to entertain and protect people who are not familiar with the unique aspects of Sedona. Hotels effectively manage their pets, trash and family entertainment so that all can have fun and be safe.

Although thousands are moving to Arizona, Sedona is actually shrinking in population. Schools are closing due to lack of families and stores and restaurants are understaffed. Long-time residents are forced to move away, pushed out by high rent or seeing their neighborhoods turn into one big time-share. 

Soon, Sedona will be a soulless destination with no community — beautiful on the outside, but sadly empty on the inside. A place tourists pass through, use up and leave behind. Sad.

Ann Kelley is a resident of Sedona.