I’m going to have to use the “F” word in this blog. It has never been a popular or pleasant word but in this current climate it has become a dirty word indeed. Okay reign in the speculation. This is, after all, a real estate blog. The word I’m referring to is foreclosure. It’s kind of like saying cancer. Not a word you ever want to have reason to use.

In researching information for this blog I came across two stories that really resonated with me and  made me think about how awful it would be to lose your home.  For most of us owning a home; having a place to truly call our own, was a big part of our American dream. We, along with our parents, and their parents before them, worked hard to make this dream come true. The stories I read reflected what happens when that dream is shattered.

The first story was about a single mother and her 10 year old son Danny. She worked very hard, worked long hours and scrimped and saved and was finally able to buy a small place. She and her son moved in, and because they had a small yard, Danny was finally able to get the dog he’d always wanted. He adopted a mutt from the pound and named him Jack. Danny and Jack were inseperable. All was good for awhile but then the economy started to change. Gas, food, heating costs all started to go up. Danny and his Mom lost their home to foreclosure. Unfortunately the only place Danny’s Mom could afford to rent was in a no pets facility. Jack was sent to live with some friends. Danny was devasted. He told his Mom that he would try to find work mowing lawns and try to make some extra money so they could get their home, and Jack, back. I’m not sure how this story ended. I hope Danny and Jack will be reunited some day.

The second story I read was about a couple in Prineville, Oregon. Prineville is in central Oregon, near Bend and not far from where I grew up. This story was about a couple who had again, worked hard their whole lives and with their combined salaries managed to buy their dream home. Not a mansion, but a small “be-it-ever-so-humble” house.  Again, the economy turned bad and one of them lost their job and they went into foreclosure. There wasn’t a lot of detail in the story but evidently they felt they had no recourse or hope and they committed suicide. They were discovered in their home. Their dream home.

A home of one’s own. Mom and apple pie. A boy and his dog. All pieces of the American dream. Home is where the heart is except when you’ve given part of it to a scruffy mutt named Jack.  I have to pause here and wipe away the tears. The I.S. department hates when I cry on my keyboard.

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