Musing on approaching first-time home ownership while approaching dotage.
Fri Oct 26, 2007 at 09:41:34 PM PDT
Yes, I know. Some of you must be sitting on your typing fingers to resist pointing out the obvious -- that my title ignores the probability that I have already reached rather than am approaching my dotage. But I sit here in puzzlement, my left arm throbbing from flu and pneumonia inoculations I received this morning, feeling like I may have a low grade fever. And the chapter of my life I seem to be in bears no recognizable marks. This is bewildering for someone as opinionated as I, and who has been living a very structured and purposefully planned routine for a very long time.
What the hell is this guy talking about? Well, for the brave, or just insanely curious, here's an invitation to cross the jump.
For the past thirty-plus years, I have lived primarily in church-provided accommodations. (Given how sparse they usually were, the word would look more appropriate with only one "c" and one "m," but I'm a priest, not a linguist.) Actually, this has suited me very well. I loved my work, setting up programs and marshaling resources to better equip people to break the grip of poverty. Living close to them was convenient, and extremely educational. Not living in a luxury which would have separated me from them even more than any geographical distance could... priceless.
But there were also very personal benefits. In simplicity there is truly great freedom. Owning very little reduces the number of trivial decisions one has to make (shall I microwave that or heat it up on the stove?). None of them amounts to much, but I bet if you started an inventory of every decision you made in the course of a single day, you'd be astounded before you even got to mid-morning. It's sort of like when people ask me about whether or not I ever get tired of always wearing black. I think there probably was a time when I would have liked to don something else -- anything but purple (sorry, clerical in-joke). But there's something truly liberating in not having to decide which ensemble I'm going to sport on a given day. And, it really cuts down on sorting laundry.
But you are probably getting impatient about what any of this has to do with home ownership. So, despite the extent to which this truly goes against the tendency toward verbosity which runs down to the very core of my being, I'll cut to the chase.
A few years ago, I had to give up the inner-city mission work which meant so much to me for so long. I have a chronic and degenerative medical condition which needed some long-term attention at the hands of physical terrorists therapists, and my mother, well into her 80's, was fighting the good fight to remain independent and in her own home. Being the only one of my siblings who was in a position to just pack up and be near her (see -- that simplicity equals freedom thing really kicks in often), and since physical therapy is pretty much the same anywhere in the country, it made sense to head on back to my little hometown. She and I could be resources to each other.
So, I took a small, modest apartment and embarked on an extended medical leave of absence. Not having a formal pastoral assignment freed me to engage in more overt forms of partisan politics, I dabbled in some adjunct faculty gigs, and some writing and web design. I was expecting it to last a couplea years, and if events had not played out this way, I probably wouldn't be here indulging myself on you with these musings. Then, depending upon your point of view, either God's grand sense of humour came into play, the universe farted, or I reaped what I sowed by not taking better of care of myself earlier in life. Whichever, I had a massive coronary, which definitely got my attention, and also served to indefinitely extend my leave of absence.
As you might guess, the stipend of a missionary priest is no way to build a huge nest egg for one's future. There's a reason they call it a "vow of poverty." Neither do the disability benefits rival those of a Fortune 500 company. Good thing I learned simplicity... but even so, getting by from month to month has frequently required as much creativity as faith of late.
As it happens, my family still owns a large ranch homesteaded by our forebears over a century ago. This year that perfect storm of silver-linings converged to create a bumper crop and exceptionally high wheat prices. Yikes! Income to shelter. Even Providence can create inconveniences. (Yes, I know... everything from ethynol programs to midwestern drought had more to do with this than any tinker by the Almighty in the affairs of men... but indulge me, okay?)
So, it is in everyone's best interest for my family to purchase a house, and sell it to me on a very favorable contract. As I approach my sixth decade on this earth, I am about to become master of my own domain for the very first time in my life. Heady stuff.
The fact that most of the people whom I have dealt with most intimately over the years, do not have families with resources to provide them a similar soft landing cannot help but cause a dyed-in-the-wool bleeding-heart-liberal and annoyingly confirmed do-gooder like me more than a little pause. I don't deserve comfort and security any more than they. Not only have I no inherent right to it, but I have not earned it by the "labor of my own hands." Don't get me wrong. I don't feel in the slightest bit guilty. It is what it is. I am just very aware of the injustice of the situation.
Nor is it impossible for me to completely put away from my mind the fact that for each of most of the myriad coincidences which have led to this windfall of mine, there is an equal and opposite adversity for someone (or many someones) else. Did I mention midwestern drought? You can add to that the soft real estate market, the related mortgage crisis, well... the list just goes on and on.
Also, even though we are talkin' a modest little house far from anything remotely resembling an exclusive gated community, I don't want to let real property and improvements take from me any substantial portion of the freedom I found in learning to live a life of simplicity. Take that, corporate America!
So, here's the plan. I intend to use my new home frugally, ecologically, and responsibly. I look forward to sharing its comforts with others. I will not seek to fill it up with stuff... well, some stuff (more books, for example). I will do everything I can to keep it from separating me from the friendship and community with those whose homes are less secure, or who have no home at all.
I never, ever, ever, want to become someone who has to be told what it's like to be poor, or that we need to work together for peace and social justice. It's just walls and a roof.
But, hot damn, it looks good, and my cats are goin' to think they died and went to heaven when they start exploring that yard.
-----
UPDATED: Minor typo fixes. I'm horrible at proofing my own work.
Permalink | 43 comments