Friday, June 27, 2014

The Relocation Chronicles, Chapter 3 - A "Low Pass" [Recent Update]

[Update - 27 June/2053 hours local - just got a note from my property manager. The tenant needs one more month. So, I don't get to do my walk-through next week. I'm somewhat happy to help, but I'm ready to break camp. Let's wrap this thing up!]

I rode by my house Thursday, to get a quick glimpse of how things looked. My tenant's lease expires this weekend, and I anticipate going over there in the days to come to get things ready for the sale.

I used the phrase "low pass" because the phrase "drive-by" has unpleasant connotations. I certainly don't want that popping up on a Google search near my name, with the possibility of being required to explain to anyone what I meant.

(A "low pass" in aviation [paraphrasing here] is a scenario where an aircraft goes low enough near an aerodrome to allow the pilot or pilots to get a glimpse of the local aerodrome environment. Local control tower operatives would grant this permission, taking into account possible obstructions to controlled flight. Depending on the location, the actual altitude from one place to another may vary.)

Anyway, looking at my house from that emotional distance felt weird. My first wife and I bought it seventeen years ago, when other houses on the street were still under construction. It was the first house we'd ever bought, after years of back-and-forth (and not a small amount of trepidation on my part). We were blessed to acquire it, and my wife did a superb job of finding it.

Back in 1997, my part of the neighborhood was pretty much the north edge of the city. My across-the-street neighbors had cow pastures adjacent to their back yards. I remember many a morning waking to the placid mooing of cows that were in no particular hurry to get anywhere.

I'll admit, it's one part of the neighborhood that cracks me up to this day. I encounter plenty of folk on this end of town who seem surprised that a person of color lives in this area. I watched the neighborhood grow year by year (and ended up with stray construction nails in my car tires as a result). In the vast majority of cases, I arrived before most of the others did. But, how would they know, without actually asking?

Regarding the house itself, it looked in relatively good shape. The paint job I had done in the summer of 2011 appears to be in good shape. The parts of the roof I had repaired that same summer are also decent. There don't appear to be any gaping holes in the exterior. The fencing will need some work, but pickets at that size aren't hard to come by.

I have never met nor conversed with the tenant since she moved in two years ago. My property manager/realtor advised me to keep my distance. I'm satisfied with how he took care of things. I would recommend him to others in the area. In addition, since he and I are fraternity brothers, I do take some measure of satisfaction knowing the two of us could enter a mutually satisfying business arrangement. I felt from the start he'd protect my interests while earning enough to make it worth his while.

I'm not his only client, so I won't badger him for hourly updates or similar nonsense. But come Monday, I will feel a sense of excitement and anticipation I hadn't felt in years. It's one thing to talk about change, pray for change. It's another thing to be on the precipice of such change. I'm blessed and grateful that the years of waiting for this transition are coming to a close, and the time for action is at hand.

In a matter of weeks, I'll be on a highway towards Memphis. If you see me, please say hi. The first cheeseburger is on me...

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The Relocation Chronicles, Chapter 2 - My Last Soup Run

We used the Freightliner Walk-In Van. (Ours is similar to the one you see in the pic.) The one we have is about 15 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 10 feet high or so. (My measurements may be off a bit.). The model number for ours is MT-14FD.

This vehicle is an M-Line, Truck, 14,500 lb gross vehicle weight rating, Forward engine, Diesel Engine. It handles like a dream. It accelerates fairly well, possesses a turn radius that is a bit smaller than I expected, and it handles inclement weather with ease. I've driven that bad boy through rain, sleet, snow, hail, baking heat and heavy traffic. It always answered the call.

On top of that, the last few years when we've had wildfires in the local area, the Salvation Army staff has used it on the front lines to provide spiritual support, hot and cold beverages, meals and even some light first aid.

On 6 June, I did my last "soup run" for the local Salvation Army station. It's been three years of helping, and I gladly admit it was an enjoyable season in my life.

It all started in February of 2011. I'd just gotten back from my final deployment before retirement. A few months before, my divorce was finalized. So, there I was - no wife, no job, no direction for my life.

A friend from church was already running errands for the local branch of the Salvation Army. He usually volunteered on weekends, gathering bread for the homeless and others in dire straits. I got a chance to ride shotgun with him a few times before my deployment, so I was able to easily re-join to help him upon my return. As I got back into civilian life, working with him led to my meeting the receptionist at SA.

The receptionist, Teresa, was one of the most grounded Christian women I'd ever met. A little while after we met, she asked if I was up for an adventure. She had spots open for drivers, folk who would escort volunteers from various churches in the local area. We'd meet at the SA location, get the food and supplies onto the canteen, go downtown, fellowship with folk, pray with some, encourage others, then come back to "home base" to clean everything up.

Digression - how many of you have heard this rationale? "I'm gonna take my kids this Thanksgiving/Christmas to a homeless shelter to volunteer, serve some meals. Maybe it will help my children learn how blessed they are."

Digression 2 - how many of you have said "we gotta get the homeless off the streets, get 'em jobs, get 'em contributing to society."

I went into this effort so na├»ve. I went downtown to help people, and perhaps "fix" a few. I had plenty of time, and needed a place to belong. I am convinced God wouldn't have given me free time without a reason, a purpose in which to use the time allotted.

In my immature thinking, I was gonna personally get a few folk off the streets (and no doubt pat myself on the back for making the world a better place). In a very subtle way, our customers let me know from the start they weren't anyone's object lesson nor object of pity.

Our customers were unique individuals, with distinct value systems & beliefs. There were military veterans struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder issues. There were women and men who'd left abusive relationships, but didn't have anywhere else to go for shelter. There were folks who hitch-hiked here from other states looking for construction work or other employment opportunities. Some were just enjoying life "off the grid" - they didn't have any bills, any bosses or any hassles. Some had good jobs at one time, were living paycheck-to-paycheck, got overextended financially, then ended up out on the street. Some were so well-versed in Biblical matters, they could discuss doctrine on a par with virtually any ordained minister.

Some wanted help, and we were able to help a few. Some just wanted to be acknowledged as living beings on the earth. A few were small-time hustlers, like in any other large gathering. Some just wanted a hot meal or a cup of coffee. We had that too.

I learned more about life talking to our customers downtown than I learned in a hundred formal meetings in office buildings from Los Angeles to Washington D.C. I got to see up-close better examples of fellowship, loyalty and integrity on the street than I've seen in many churches, offices, etc. Our customers showed me places where I fell short in life and attitude. Cool thing was, they weren't heavy-handed about it. In the final accounting, I got more from them than they did from me. They embraced me and helped me grow up a quite a bit.

So now, my shift is complete. I am gonna use the time to keep prepping for the move coming soon. I have no doubt God will send new volunteers to assist in this worthwhile endeavor. For me, I say farewell to Chris, Snake, Ghost, Mark, Vince, Dalton, Tom (R.I.P.) and all the other men and women I met on the street. Thanks for the laughter, the exchange of ideas, the broadening of my perspective. They helped me become a better man, because they were willing to give of themselves.

In addition, I am thankful for all my fellow volunteers. So many women and men who took time from their own responsibilities to look after total strangers. Good people, every one of them. I was honored to serve alongside all of them. Thomas, Gloria, "the three Davids", Carol and Carol, Timothy.
Furthermore, I am thankful for all the organizations that donated foodstuffs, serving resources, clothing, Bibles and other items our customers could use after the meals were served. We couldn't have gone out to help if we didn't have the support.

Now, I need to go find something productive to do in Memphis. It's a big city, so I suspect something will be revealed soon.

I write to encourage those of you who read this - seek out opportunities to contribute. Each of us has a gift that can be a blessing to someone else. Your gift is needed in your community.

(Yes, I tweet - @SomRandomOlDude)

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

The Relocation Chronicles - Chapter One

This is yet another occasional series, where I'll share what I learn and see about my planned move from Colorado to Tennessee. I am excited about the opportunity to go back down south.

Being a military veteran & formerly married, I had lots of help whenever I moved. In other words, I did very little to no actual work. Other than signing forms or watching other folks put my stuff on a truck, I was hands-off. So, this time it becomes an adventure because all the responsibility falls on me. I'm excited about going home, and I'm excited about having some say about my future. I just don't know what the heck I'm doing.

Today, I had lunch with my property manager/realtor. He's a good guy, and helped me in many ways over the years. Also, he's frat, so it's cool to keep it in the Brotherhood (he's a much better Brother than I'll ever be). He brought a hard copy appraisal with him, and we are both pleased with the possible proceeds. Now, the way ahead is a little clearer. My tenant's lease expires in four weeks. Once she's out, we can show the house to prospective buyers.

Why do I have a tenant? A few years ago, the house became too big for me. Once my kids moved out, I wasn't excited about maintaining it alone. It's not a mansion by any means, but I don't need that much space. The money came in handy, but it seemed more like getting use out of the asset. I'm glad the tenant was able to have some stability in her life.

The house has a bunch of memories. It was the first one (actually only one) my first wife and I ever bought. It looks like it was a great investment. She always had great judgment, and I get to benefit from her vision.

Then, nearly 10 years later, my second wife moved in. By then, we had the basement remodeled to suit her desires (including a walk-in closet for literally 300 pair of shoes. I moved them in, so it's no exaggeration). Today, the valuation might be a bit higher if that space was a bedroom instead of a closet, but at the time I was in a "anything you want, baby" mood.

So, like nearly everyone, I can look back and see some cool, crazy, crushing moments. On some level, it's bittersweet to actually sell the house and "break camp". But, let me ask you this:

If you were alone & money wasn't a consideration, where would YOU choose to live? What would be the big criteria that would drive your choice?

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Random Thoughts

I love the time just before sunrise, especially in the desert. There's something stark & beautiful, even peaceful, about that stillness. As my eyes adjust to the dark transitioning to dawn, my mind feels clear. The air here is usually cool & fresh. The madness of the day hasn't started. That time is fleeting, but I enjoy it.

Made lasagna yesterday. It was good, but I ate too much of it. My innards were crying out for relief throughout the night. So, I got up at 0430 hours for a nice, long walk. There will come a time where I will take the lesson learned to heart, the lesson of "don't be a glutton".

During the walk, I heard a couple of tracks from Berlin's "Love Life" CD. Even though it's an artifact from the New Wave '80s, I still get a kick out of it. Most songs deal with the dark, disillusioned side of love & romance (to which I can obviously relate). The scratchy guitar licks get under my skin like an itch I can't reach. The rat-tat-tat of the drums hit like tommy-gun fire. The beats would fit in with any spinning class; the lyrics, not so much. Terri Nunn's vocals purr one moment, snarl the next. It's one of the most thematically cohesive CDs I've ever heard.

Watching "Sink the Bismarck!" before heading out to church. I was never in anyone's navy, but the sea battle scenes look authentic. The scenes of the operations staff poring over charts and planning missions bring back nice memories as well.

It's June - Flag Day, Father's Day and the first day of summer are all coming. June is an underrated month. In addition, it's one month closer to my moving back to Tennessee.