Unfortunately, after she died, it fell into the hands of my disastrous and ever-impecunious Uncle Jack, whose dubious stewardship has left the place fit only for demolition. He lived in the house for above 20 years, much of that time without power and water due to his casual approach to paying bills. Behold the destructive power of doing absolutely nothing in the way of maintenance!
The chest-of-drawers on the porch is, curiously, filled with Jack's old socks. I believe this piece of furniture may have originally been in the back bedroom; however, when my brother and I went poking around inside the house, we saw that the floor of that room had completely collapsed.
9 comments:
Oh, heck.
That's a lot of socks.
Just say WTF and let it go. Don't be all "He should have left it for me!"
Now we see why you need to sell it alright.
That's a familiar story, the one sibling who stayed in the homestead until it fell apart.
Oh what a shame. I'd hate to be Uncle Jack when he meets up with Grandma.
Alas, some people just can't see beyond the end of their nose.
Or won't. I often wonder which is worse.
I may need to clarify. I do not own my grandmother's house; it is across the street from my father's property and is now owned by Jack's son, who acquired the place from Jack's sister-in-law (she got tired of trying to collect rent and sold it at a steep discount). I just regret that the house didn't go to someone who would have kept it up.
Sounds like a case of like father, like son. I've seen a lot of nice houses go to pot after the original owner sells to someone who doesn't care for it the way the original owner did.
My brother just moved to Ohio, and now has his old house (next door to mine) for sale. I have a feeling it's going to end up like your grandma's place.
Lives are complex. My brother just burned through his 2nd marriage, to a younger woman this time, what with his alcohol problem and 'borderline' issues. She will have to fight his grown kids for the harbourside apartment. He's moved back in with the love of his life (she's 90 years old, guess who? The only woman he can depend on) They can have it all with my blessings, glad to be free of them.
Meanwhile I'm worried about an old friend who is being Bourdained and can't see it. Just went to funeral of another guy I've known 55 years whose step-family eulogised him as 'an exemplary nurturing male', sacrificing himself for other men's kids. His career included manager of the Sydney Opera House but he left no progeny and was basically used as a doormat. A letter from a Pulitzer Prize winner read at his funeral, 2 pages about how nice he was, blag blah. If you live long enough you see a lot of crap.
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