I read an article this morning about the cottage industries- not to mention the mega-businesses - that are being spawned by the foreclosure crisis. People are being told that no one will their loan company renegotiate until they stop making payments on their house.
They go in to default.
The default becomes public record and the mailbox begins to fill up with every Tom, Dick and Harrasser who- for a fee- can help ya out. My son is a mortgage banker, and he truly does try and help people- so I know they exist. And it is a good thing that they do, because the consequences are enormous.
The house, once a place of quiet and comfort, now has put a large target on your back.
Meanwhile, back at the bank, hands are being rubbed together over late fees; foreign and domestic investors are hovering behind ghost corporations and buying up the foreclosures in bulk; and only 20% of the houses that go in to default ever stay in the hands of the original owner.
And America loads its gun, looks down the site, and takes careful aim at its foot once more.
Ever heard of Maslow?
He was a guy who put together a very perceptive pyramid of “what does it take to reach your potential.” At the very bottom- the place from which all else is built- before security or love or relationship - is home.
These piles of brick and stucco that developers slap up over night and then deposit us in as though we were cans on a shelf (as they high tail it back to the haciendas by the sea in Newport Beach) are our homes.
They are where we grow and become our own inspiration.
I see over and over that when people walk away, they often leave behind toys and pictures. Do they feel that they no longer have a right to family- or is that whole struggle to be solid and united and part of the American Dream too much to bear?
I have no answers. I only have tears today for the people who packed up or left behind their dreams and crammed what they could in to a car or an apartment.
