Losing A House

From the moment that a stranger knocked on my door that early afternoon in March of 2011 the

lives of my family would never be the same. The nervous look on the face of this stranger and

the camera in his hand put a lump in my stomach the moment our eyes connected. I moved out

into the entirely too cold that for shirts I had on but I didn’t want be told what I knew was

coming in front of my family. “I represent the company that has taken over your mortgage. This

is a hard time for all and we would like to make things go a little smoother.” He was the typical

middle aged white guy in gym shoes, a pair of jeans and a light coat that protected him against

the not so cold of weather of March. I honestly expected the guy who was going to throw my

family out of the house that we had lived in for the past eight years to have look like some cold

callous state trooper type with a cheap windbreaker drab olive pants and shiny shoes and the

most severe hair cut in the world to throw/hand me a fold piece of paper telling me I had forty

eight hours to leave the premises. Having never seen people get removed from hearth and home I

assumed it would be like a bad lifetime movie. “ Why hasn’t ASC sent me anything in the mail

or returned my numerous calls. I have been talking with those guys for the past six months trying

to refinance with those assholes and now a company who has taken over my mortgage has come

to ask me nicely to move.” The man shifted in his shoes. Clearly he was still nervous but the

lump in my stomach began to heat up. “Mr. Sibley people are doing a lot damage to their former

homes and we want to make this easy on you and ourselves by offering an monetary incentive

for you to leave the house exactly the way it is.” He handed me a manila envelope. Over the past

year and a half I had seen reports of people who on finding out they were losing their abodes

destroyed the place they raised a family in. Dry wall torn, pipes ripped from the wall, flooring

smashed, windows broken for some measure of payback over losing a place they loved. I opened

the envelope and glanced at the words that seemed blurry on the paper. After refocusing I saw

that the now owners of my house were not only offering me money to leave the house the way

without kicking the walls in but they wanted me to clean up the place including the garage on

their time frame. The sooner we left the more money my wife and I would receive. That was

when the lump flamed into a white hot coal and I entertained the idea of kicking the messenger

into a coma. He had begun to take pictures of my house as he talk to me. I began to get the

feeling that his nervousness had been a bs ruse and that he had done dozens of times before. I

could hear my wife call to my oldest son for something and the lump that was burning like a

miniature sun disentigrated. This was going to be another blow to my already fragile marriage.

Almost two years to the month I lost my house I was laid off along with 500 hundred union

members and supervisors. My unemployment checks had stopped coming a month prior. I was

amazed at how instantly people change when you are no longer working and on unemployment.

Being evicted from a house would only make this marriage weaker and a couple could only

become so weak before they were no longer a couple. The fake nice man was stilling talking to

me about something but I had ignored him for the last thirty seconds. Instead of beating him like

a dog who bite me I wipe him from my mind and walked back into my house to face my wife.

She sat on the couch and looked at me. She had to know it was bad news. “ASC sold our

mortgage to a company that propbably is going to flip our house. They are going to pay us not to

destroy this place but we have to be out in three weeks.” Her mouth literally fell open as she

slowly rose from her feet and walked over to. I wasn’t sure if she was going to try and slap me

(because clearly this was all my fault) so I moved the envelope that was at my side to the space

between us. She took the papers from me and scrutinized them much more then I had. Instead of

asking me questions like how did this happen? Or what are we going to do? The only question

she asked was “Do you think we can move out in three weeks? I told her what I thought “There

is no way in hell we can pull that off. Besides not having enough money we haven’t even started

looking for a house. Six weeks maybe.” She never looked up at me while she talked to me. “You

can tell the kids.” She said as she walked away from. The only reply I could muster was “of

course.”

Our children didn’t take this as badly as we had expected. Children were more resilant and easy

to change then their adult counterparts. We would borrowed money from relatives. Family and

friends would help us move. We would rent a house in the same city to make the transitions

easier for our kids. I would eventually look upon losing a house as an learning experience but

realized that my wife would see me in a different light and nothing would be the same.

Clear eyes to see

A major source of our conflicts is that humans don’t understand themselves let alone

other people. It’s irritating when I hear people say things about former lovers or spouses

like “You’ve changed” or “Your not the person I knew five years ago.” When in reality

you didn’t have the wherewithal to see this person because you saw them in “your eyes” when

you should have been looking at them with “clear eyes”. No one decides to start cheating

out of the blue. It was always part of that person and you didn’t see it because you played

a slight of hand trick on your own mind. Now you’re attached to a violent alpha male who

may kill you and your kids or you’re tied for the rest of your life to a viper of a woman

who cheated on you numerous times and the paternity of the kids you love are suspect.

We teach our kids to read and write but parents very rarely teach their kids to see the

truth and people for what they are. As an adult you know full well that so much of what

you knew as a child was a half truth or an outright lie but you teach your children,

the humans that you are most responsible for in the world, the same horrible lies that could

very well mentally and psychologically cripple them as adults. Am I suggesting that

you tell a five year old cold hard facts about rape murder and pain? Of course not

but ask yourself how many things you wish your parents or some adult in your life had

told you in your youth that would have made your life a little easier.

Tell your girls to error on the side of caution and not trust any man outside of

her dad and brothers. Before your son decides to be a patriot and join the armed forces

take him to see soldiers that have become wounded on the inside and out because of

conflicts that have very little to do with protecting the country. Makes sure that

before they vote for anyone they know who is really behind that candidate and is

their agenda for the betterment of most of us. Train them to notice the inflection

in a person’s voice so that they can understand what they said and what they really

mean. Make sure they don’t take anything to serious. Train them to enjoy what they

have.

A “quit your job and move to another town” moment

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Most men who work hot and loud jobs drink hard and the ones that don’t

are recovering drunks. I worked at a Steel Mill called Sheffield Steel

around the turn of the century (see what I did there) and we all drank

like a motherfucker. Guys who had been there back in the seventies and

eighties had so many wonderfully fucked up stories to tell me that I

will save for another blog but I had tell most involved hard drinks

and hookers. Even in the 90’s I would find bottles of gin and vodka

I had never heard of…… but I digress. Let me tell of a story I was

there for.

We worked what they called a southern swing at Sheffield. That means a

week of days then a week of afternoons followed by a week of midnights.

When we worked midnights we would go out drinking Friday morning at the

Lumpy Pickle (fuck you it’s not a gay bar!). The cast of drunk consisted

of myself, drinking buddies Gary and Phil, the foreman and mill manager

Michael Frickey and a few other guys. From about seven in the morning

until about 1o am. At that time Michael Frickey suggested that we go

to his house for a case or two of free beers. Who is going to turn down

free beer? So it was about 12 pm in the afternoon and Mrs. Frickey told

us nicely it was time to leave. When the woman of the house tells you

nicely to get the fuck out you get the fuck out. “Bitch you don’t tell

me what to do. My friends can leave when they want to leave. I’m the

man of this fucking house. Her response “THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU WERE

SAYING TWO DAYS AGO WHEN YOU HAD YOUR LEGS IN THE AIR AND I WAS FUCKING

YOU WITH YOUR VIBRATOR.” I was actually speechless at this. The only

thing I could think about was how there would be not way in hell that

I would ever talk to my wife like this if I know she could reveal a secret

like that. “If I was Michael I would quit and fucking move.” Is what Gary

said I we were leaving the house of Captain Vibrator (names evolving as we

drove home).

I had troubles of my own with I got home. I had told the wife that I would be

home a few hours after seven. It was closer to 1 pm when I got home and she was

super pissed. She made me go shopping with her and I didn’t get a chance to go to

sleep until 8 pm.

If you know like I do men gossip as much as women do and by Monday afternoon two

thirds of every one knew Frickey liked his wife to butt fuck him with his own

vibrator. I can honestly tell you that I would have quit the day something that

private got out.

New parents are stupid parents

Stacie and I have done silly shit in our lives but only one time was it due to being young and

dumb parents. I remember me being home alone when she came in with Noah so more then

likely she was at her mother’s in Wilmington or on the eastside of Joliet at her best friend

Maggie’s house. Back in the day Stacie would go down to her parents house at least once a

week sometimes twice a week. She would run over to Maggie’s ever time they had a get

together and sometime just for the hell of it. A lot of time I just balked at going. She knew I was

not a people person and yet she still would get pissed off I refused to go to see her mommy

who never called to see how she was doing and she needed the approval of mommy and

her best friend. Anyway………… she got home and Noah must have been hunger so she popped

him out the tit to feed. I have always been at awe how a child lovingly grabs that breast to feed.

Anyway………. She calls me to the room and says Noah has a problem latching on (sounds like

porn right?). I watch her try to feed him and he lets out a cry of frustration because he can’t

feed. We lay him down on the bed and look in his mouth and there seems to be a rash looking

batch on the roof of his mouth. We both freaked out just a little. Our first born had a fucking

rash on the roof of his mouth. We were bad parents. I called my mother because she was the

nearest thing to a medical professional. I told her about the rash in his mouth and without

really thinking about she said it was oral thrush and she told me it was like fungus in the mouth

of babies. While I was on the phone with my mother Stacie was looking into one of her baby

books. [See kids: back in the day before the internet when people wanted to get information

they would go to a book to find out things.] She found the same thing but with a nasty picture of

a baby with a bunch of yellowish white crap on his tongue. Damnit I was right we were shitty shit

parents. On the way to the hospital I wondered if they could take our kid since he had a weird

growth on his mouth. Long story short when we got in front of the doctor he took a tongue

depressor and removed a piece of fucking wet paper from the roof of his mouth and looked at

us and smiled. Then he turned around and went to show this to the nurses in the hallway to

have a fucking laugh at the expense of the dumb ass new parents. I had a seven hundred dollar

hospital bill for a piece of wet newspaper. I made sure to call my mother to let her know

everything was alright.

Getting married over the phone may not be such a bad Idea!

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Since my wife and I have been together I’ve been dragged to at about seven weddings and receptions

which comes out to about three every two years. First of all I would like to say marriage is a worthy

endeavor especially if you’re not too much of an asshole and plan on having kids. I’ve never had

a problem with the wedding although it is really more of a woman’s forte. I don’t think the average

man would give a damn if he got married over the phone. Weddings are over with in relatively short

time an hour and a half tops and those are the Catholic one. Everything goes down here from the

moment you leave the church.

I would like to know how come no can pick a reception that is less then forty milesfrom the

wedding.Your god forbid that you are not familiar with the city this shindig is going down.

that’s another thirty minutes you’ll never get back. I’ve been to one reception that actually

took place in a reception hall. VFW’s are the norm in this area of America. You find the table

you and plus one will be sitting and of course your sitting by God’s parents who have

nothing better to do except talk to you about the most inane crap on the planet “how ’bout

them Bears? “How do you know the happy couple” “Great day for a wedding huh?” “You

wouldn’t have an extra Depends on you? I plan on drinking and I piss like a racehorse

when I do”. Great now I have to deal with Barnaby Jones and his hag until the old folk’s

bus comes for them.

 

 

“Drink drink drink” is what goes thru my mind. If there was ever a need to use alcohol as a

crutch to get past something this is definitely it. Open bar? cool! Watered down drink? Not

cool. I have never gotten drunk at a reception and believe me I’ve tried. The only people

who seem drunk are the bastards in the wedding party and I wouldn’t want to trade

places with them for all the watermelons in the South. Then they announce the happy

couple…. why? I was just at your wedding and the people who could only make the

reception already know who you are. Are they announcing the happy couple again to

be sure some dumb ass didn’t come to the wrong hall or VFW? A clear indication

you’re at the wrong one is the lack of anyone you know at the reception. 

 

 

Right on time are the speeches from the people who took part in the wedding that

absolutely love their best friend and his/her new mate. This is the time a wish I was

a mind reader because I know the maid of honor is saying in her mind “Why is she

marrying that ass after I told her I did him twice and he gave me genital warts?”

and the best man is thinking “This stupid bastard picked the craziest woman he

could possible find, I don’t care how good she is in bed his is doomed! Doomed!

DOOMED!!” Here comes the food but you go it by order of importance so if you’re

low on the totem pole you’ll be eating in an hour or so. Mostaccioli , roast beef,

mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole, is that about right? All bland and

tasteless as most food is when produced in bulk. One side note is that I’ve never

been to a wedding with black people getting married. I don’t know what it says

about the black people I know but I get the feeling that a black wedding would

be same bs different food.

 

Worst of all is the horrible music and the tacky line dancing. Why is there music

from the fifties and early sixties on that damn dj’s hit list? I’ve seen white people

dance funny already so even that is no longer holds any interest to me. And to

top it off there was the time one of my wife’s aunt got drunk and horny offered

her “services” in the men’s bathroom. I know what you’re thinking but I

thought I can’t drunk at a reception so no I did not. I’m getting sad and pissed

just thinking about this and the fact that I know I’ll have to go to at least

twenty more in my life time. when I’m the old fart asking “which way is the

bathroom? My piss bag is getting full”

 

Ps. Just kidding about the drunk and horny aunt thing even though I’m

 

sure it’s happened before somewhere