Stress fractures in the drumlins

Posted on January 22, 2010

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I mentioned that last weekend was lovely, which it was, and that we’ve been having a stretch of pretty weather, which we have, but now we must face other facts. Susan, Mother of the Lady Alicia, is a real estate agent with a lot of experience dealing with the current mess in the market. As we walked the dogs, she noticed at once something that I had completely overlooked.

A house in my neighborhood has been foreclosed, the family evicted, and the property secured by a company acting on behalf of the bank. I use the word “secured” loosely, as a fair amount of damage was done to the front door in the process of entering and changing the locks and so forth.

I know the people who lived in this house. I like them. I knew they were under great financial strain, but I didn’t know it had gotten to this point. Sometime over the last couple of months, most likely while I was in Utah, they moved out of the house. It makes me very sad, and if they read this, I want them to know that I am terribly sorry this has happened to them.

It is easy to believe that the people who are losing their homes are somehow different from you and me, that they made more foolish decisions, or were careless, or improvident or lazy. We tell ourselves those things so that we won’t be frightened that it might happen to us. But the Great Depression of 2008 is not over, and the people who are sliding off the economic cliff are not so different after all, and we’d best take good care of each other in these perilous times.

The Bay was quite beautiful this morning. Very peaceful. Cold, too—icy cold. The propane furnace keeps kicking on tonight, making the sound of ten dollar bills going up in smoke. The cat dozes next to my keyboard, the Cowboy leans against my feet, Miss Sadie is stretched out in the chair she favors. We lead a simple life. So far, so good.

We’re keeping on keeping on.  We’ll hold a good thought for you, too.

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