Mixed Bag

July 1st was our 37th anniversary. On the same day Stephanie, one of my wife's nieces downed a few pills, slit her wrists and shuffled off this mortal coil lying on her bed. She was about 40 years old and the oldest child of one of my brothers in-law.



Her body was discovered by her 16 year old son. He called his dad and asked if he could come live with him. He was pretty sure his mom was dead because there was blood and she wouldn't wake up. He is a distrubed and disturbing child, but that's another story.



My wife, Jo and I went out to dinner that nite. What else was there for us to do? We celebrated our relationship which is ongoing and strong. We celebrated our love. We celebrated our kids. These observances allow us to pause and reflect on the ups and downs of our lives together over a good meal.

The obit for Stephanie, the now departed niece, was perhaps the briefest such notice I've ever seen. It stated her name, her age, the date of her death, and that services were pending.
Short shrift.

I knew little of Stephanie. I have known her since before Jo and I married. But in thinking back, I doubt that I have exchanged a hundred words with her in that time - mostly just "Hi. How are ya?" We rarely paused for the answer.

She and her husband had divorced a couple of years before. Her health had been bad as I now have been informed. She nearly died owing to complications in the birth of her 16 year old. She suffered from Lupus. She had a number of bad vertebrae which caused her significant pain. She had suffered at least three strokes. She had recently been informed of a spot on a breast. Shortly after her divorce she took to drinking heavily. She had a continually stormy relationship with her father. She was in a word, depressed. She was in a downward spiral into a black hole. With all that, her opting out seems almost inevitable.

Some are angry with her for committing the deed in such a way that it was almost certain that her son would be the one to discover her. That is unfortunate. Perhaps the "hole" was so black and so deep that she couldn't see beyond it.

Pointed fingers and recriminations are now being tossed back and forth between her father, her mother (the two divorced several years ago,) her ex, her siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. The bottom line is that everyone missed the signs, whatever they may have been. She tumbled away between the cracks.

What did her life count for? Consider the ongoing 24/7 coverage of Michael Jackson's death. Weigh the two. It's strange isn't it that two people, both born in Indiana, about a decade apart could have such disparate lives? Jackson's life and death will continue to be scrutinized for weeks to come. Stephanie got a line in the obit section. I suppose one could note that millions of people have lived and died without even that. Stephanie will receive the standard treatment - visitation Sunday evening at a well appointed neighborhood funeral home, a catholic mass and burial amongst other's in the family who have gone before. The family and her smattering of friends will take note of her loss. Prayers will be uttered. Some tears will be shed. That is in the end more than many will ever get.

My wife and I are now working on our 38th year.

Stephanie lived. Now she is gone.

TLS

Susan Boyle

I've got to write about Susan Boyle. I imagine that about everybody on the planet has heard about her by now and that at least half of the world's denizens have watched at least one of the gazillion YouTube videos of her performance on Brits Got Talent. If we're not all tired of hearing about her yet, I suppose many will be in short order. No matter.

I have watched her performance maybe a couple dozen times since I first heard of her on CNN's AC360 a couple of nights ago. I fell in love with Susan the moment she walked out on stage, but I must admit, I honestly did not expect what followed when she began singing. It was a moment. A moment to behold. Everybody in the theatre and those who were watching the program live on Brit TV were treated to something special. That totally unexpected moment of victory for the underdog.

It's not only that she nailed the song, that she made it her own, that she could well have been Fontyn for those 2 or 3 minutes. "The Moment" came in the wake of her opening phrase and the responses from the 3 judges and then the entire audience. It was that magic moment that few of us ever have the opportunity, the privilege, to witness.

Some complain that those who prejudged her simply from her looks - her heavily browed face, her rather frizzy hair, her weight, her age, her "cheekiness" - were despicable. And so they were. And so most of us were. That's often the way of it.

Nevertheless, a star was born. What next? It may be that she will not be able to live up to expectations now. How can she top that first moment? It is likely that she can't. She may well wind up winning the competition, but where she goes from there is anybody's guess. Ultimately, the glow may dim. She may, in the end be a hard sell. This sudden attention may tear her life apart. Fame has its really bad side as most of us know.

I truly hope not. I hope that someone will step in if need be to help her cope with the changes that have already begun in her life. I hope somebody kisses her.

I tear up every time I watch. I sing enough myself that I can relate to what she did, to what it takes to pull off that kind of performance.

Ms. Boyle, I'm pulling for you from the bottom of my heart. I hope you have more great moments that you can share with the rest of us. Thank you. It was a joy.

And, for your further listening enjoyment and more of Ms. Boyle's vocal acumen click on this.

Terry S.

HAPPY EASTER!!!

Hey, All You Honey Nut Clusters Fans!

I've noticed that a whole bunch of people have been stopping by having an apparent interest in the availability of General Mills "Honey Nut Clusters" cereal. As I've noted in two previous posts, I've had a difficult time finding 'Clusters' in local Indy stores. To date, I have found them only at a Safeway store on the north side of town. I have written emails to General Mills about 'Clusters.' This was about a year ago. At that time I was told that 'Clusters' was still being produced, but that a number of stores had opted to pull them in favor of other, apparently better selling cereals.

If you are having similar problems, but still have a hankering for a bowl of "Honey Nut Clusters" give General Mills a jingle, or send them an email. Let them know that you want your 'Clusters' back. Let's get a campaign going. Hey, it worked for the TV show "Jericho" - for a season, anyhow. Why not for 'Clusters?'

It also might help if you start a barrage of emails, calls, letters, sit-ins, or whatever at your local grocery stores. In Indy, the major super markets are Krogers, Marsh, Meijer and Wall Mart. None carry 'Clusters.' All did so at one time.

If any of you choose to take up the gauntlet, let me know; especially if you have any success. I'd love to hear from you.

TLS

Hey Kids! What Day Is It?

Hey everybody! Have yourselves a really great Square Root Day - 3/3/09. They only come 9 times a century. Grab all the gusto!

T

Filmdom's Old Blue Eyes - Paul Newman

I'm sitting here and watching the Oscars. They just went through all the folks in the film industry who shuffled off their mortal coils during the past year.

I still can't believe this guy is gone.

Are Homeowners Really the Bad Guys?

Yes, as it has been charged by many, various arms of the government did push mortgage lenders toward providing more people the opportunity to seek homeownership. However, many characterize it as "strong-arming" which is, in my opinion, misleading. It's difficult to envision the American banking system being "strong-armed" by anyone, even the Feds.

Mortgage lenders resisted until they discovered that they could make huge profits from such lending. It is the lenders who threw out all of the long standing protocols for processing and approving mortgage loans. It is they who dropped the ball in performing proper diligence in verifying borrower employment, income, credit standing, etc. It is the lenders who largely discarded appraisals, opting instead for "desk top" valuations and the use of AVMs or Automated Valuation Models which are often wildly inaccurate.

As to blaming the borrowers, while it's true that a few understood what was going on and took advantage of the situation to sate their greed, that is NOT true of most of the people who got caught up in this mess.

Most were and are young, expecting or at least hoping to be "upwardly mobile" and wanting to purchase a home - the supposed great American dream.

Scenario:

Hubby and Wifey test the waters only to find that their bank and/or some of the more traditional lenders to which they apply, deny them their quest. Something about a weak credit score. However, someone advises them to seek out a mortgage broker (the bane of our existence,) who can shop around for a lender who will, perhaps, approve their application.

The mortgage broker, Bobby Slick of 'We Saw Ya Comin Mortgage Services,' smiles broadly and invites them to have a seat. He takes their application, sometimes suggesting ways in which to "tweak" some numbers here and there. This may make the potential mortgagors a bit nervous, but Bobby just laughs it off, reassuring them that to do so presents no problem. He does it all the time. Keep in mind that nothing is said to these people about anything called "sub-prime" mortgages.

Bobby puts all of this "data" together, sends it off into cyberspace and then waits like a bluehaired grandmother playing nickel slots at a riverboat casino, until some lender bites. It's a rare occurance if not even one takes the bait. There are usually 3 or 4.

Bobby calls his marks, or, er his clients with the good news: Welendtoanybodywithapulse Mortgage is more than happy to take on their loan request. Woohoo!

Now a few days or weeks pass and periodically the broker contacts the clueless applicants with questions to answer, papers to sign, changes to make here and there - further "tweaks" to help grease the slide.

Our 'wannabe homeowners' are informed that with a convenient 'adjustable' mortgage having an up front low interest rate and consequent low payment, they can step into a lot more house than they originally believed. They don' gotta mess aroun' with that stinkin' 40 year old 1200 square foot, 3 bedroom ranch they been lookin at. Instead, they can go for the big enchilada, and get that glorious new, 2 story, 3000 square foot, 4 bedroom box in "Vinyl Village Estates" they were dreaming about. None of that "starter home" crap for them, by god!

Bobby may suggest to them that the mortgage payment will likely go up in a few years, but that shouldn't be a problem because they will no doubt be making a lot more money by that time as the buyer's "upward mobility" should be kicking in:

Bobby: "Am I right?"

H&W: "Uh, yeah, sure, we guess so."

Bobby: "Of course I'm right! Gotta keep the faith. You'll be king of the world by then!" Right? Right! You know I'm right!

Again, Hubby and Wifey are nervous about all this, and may ask a few questions, but further reassurances from 'The Slickster' and their own giddiness overcome all that. They are gonna grab the American dream by the goddamn throat!

Eventually, the processing gets done. The How Much Do You Need? appraisal company came in with a good figure. They've been approved! It's a go.

A few days later everybody involved in the transaction comes together to sit around a long table in some conference room at a title insurance company or some law firm and watch as these gullible folks sign their lives away. The new mortgagors are happy, a little squeamish, perhaps, but happy. But even happier are those walking out with big checks tucked securely in their wallets. Partay tonite!

Fast forward: Three or five or maybe seven years down the road our happy homeowners get the bad news. Their 4% mortgage has now crept up to 7% or 8% or more. They knew it was coming, but still. The reality is alarming. In the meantime, Hubby hasn't gotten quite the boost in income he had anticipated, and Wifey has not been working owing to the arrival of a couple of little critters. But they're struggling by. She gives piano lessons to a few kids each week, and he's been moonlighting at a convenience store. It's a little rough, but they'll get through it. It's only temporary.

Then, the shit hits the fan. Hubby gets his pink slip. His company has decided to "go in a different direction." His services are no longer required. "Here's a couple months severence. Clean out your desk NOW!!, have a nice life, and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

Ohmigod! Hubby looks up only to realize that about half or more of the houses in Vinyl Village are sitting empty because their former occupants got pretty much the same news in the weeks and months before his own comuppance. What the hell are they going to do?

Attempts to find another job paying anything similar to what Hubby had been making have been fruitless. He's even been turned down for lesser employment because he's "overqualified." Wifey has started cashiering part time at the local Giganto Mart while Hubby stays home and changes diapers and does the laundry.

The severance runs out all too soon and their income is only a quarter of what they need. They miss a mortgage payment or two because they don't really have enough to pay it, and they needed to pay the utility bills so they'd at least have some light and heat.

They avoid answering the phone. Caller ID informs them that the mortgage company is calling 8 or 10 times a day. Yesterday, their 2 year old Subaru Forester got repossessed. They are left with the rusting 14 year old Mercury Grand Marquis with the bad muffler and the electric windows that don't go up or down that they inherited from grandma's estate last year. It currently gets around 9 miles to the gallon and leaves a huge puddle of oil in the driveway, but, oh well. It's wheels.

Finally, these once proud, happy homeowners are informed that they have 24 hours to vacate the property before the county sheriff comes to evict them. They borrow Uncle Floyd's old pick-up and stuff it and the Grand Marquis hauling out what they can fit into them, leaving the rest. They are reduced to living in his father and mother's partly finished basement. Their American dream is history.

End of Scenario.

Were these people at fault for their own mess? In part, yes. They were not necessarily greedy, but more likely just naive. They wanted a home. They trustingly bought into the bullshit that Bobby Slick and perhaps the builder or a realtor fed them. Their desire to own a piece of the rock blinded them to the possibility that it could all blow up in their faces. Nevertheless, it did.

Commerce largely depends upon the naivete' of the buying public. When it comes down to it, the vast majority of products and services provided to the American market place are things we don't particularly need. Therefore, advertisers are burdened with the task of convincing us to the contrary.

Hubby and Wifey did not NEED to buy a home. They certainly did not NEED to purchase a 3000 square foot monolith for more than they could realistically afford. But, they were enticed into believing that they did in fact need it, and that given the prediction of a rosey future, they came to believe that they could afford it. They were wrong.

Those who lay the blame at the feet of people like my ficticious couple believe unswervingly in caveat emptor - let the buyer beware. Granted, we all need at least a modicum of such caution. But most of us don't assume that well established banks, lending institutions, realtors, etc. - the bulwark of our economy - should be equated with snake oil salesmen. When going after the American dream, we want to believe that the rose colored glasses through which we observe the world is not a distortion. Sadly, we often learn in our despair that the hue is not rose, but rather, simply the tarnish of lies and opportunism.

TLS