I didn't get any bacon at Breakfast on Sunday. Pity me.
This was because we ran out of bowls (my fault) and forks (my fault) so I ran to the grocery store down the block to get more. When I got back all of the bacon was gone.
Boo hoo.
I told the story anyway. (sniff.)
Anyway, we had company this week. My mom and aunt came for a visit, which put me in a split personality mode. I was seeing Breakfast through their eyes, but also seeing them through the eyes of those of us who live there.
The timing was good because my aunt brought some curtains to donate. Good ones, very large. As it turns out, S. and her family are moving and need curtains, so bonus!
I'm going to miss them. S. is a lovely person, gentle and hopeful, a good and patient mom. Her man is a gruff, proud Dutchman with a cynical intelligence and a wide range of skills. The kids are sweet. Older sister K. bright and engaging, little brother a fierce prototypical 4 year old boy with a smile that never seems to fade.
They've finally got housing under the "affordable housing" program. Problem is it's in a town a half hour's drive away. Good news, bad news. But that's the way it is. There's only so much affordable housing around and when your name comes up, you just don't say no.
So off they go. This is K's don't-know-how-many'th move since she started school. She told me during the summer that she would be glad to start and finish the year at the same school, and now she'll need to adapt. But it should be easier, now that they've got a better address.
There was an announcement recently about a planned development in the downtown area of the town next door that will be all affordable housing. It sounds like it will help a lot of people and I'm glad to hear it. The number of units that will be constructed will shorten the waiting list, for sure.
But the good news value of that is tempered by the fact that just last week in another town next door, a motel similar to ours was burned to the ground by someone who set it on fire deliberately. This is a place that some of our friends have lived short-term in times of crisis.
Now there's one less option. Now you can't say, "That's it. I've had it. I'm going to pack up and move to...". Because it's gone. Not only for those who held it out as a possible alternative, but for those who lived there, some for as long as 20 years. They'll have help short term getting shelter, but after that, the hunt is on and your name is back on the waiting list.
And you take what you can get that has walls and roof, even if it means being harassed and subjected to whatever power your landlord chooses to wield over you, legal or no.
There are fewer and fewer places like the Motel in the last few years. Some have been closed and bulldozed. Some gentrified. But whatever the reason, the people with the least are being left with fewer and fewer alternatives.
On our way home from lunch today, my friend and I drove through a neighbourhood of large, mostly antique houses. Careful landscaping, historically accurate paint and window sashes and shingles, large front yards.
She said, "Why don't we just walk in and say, "OK. We're taking over. We live here now."
We laughed about it, but when you've got an eviction notice in your pocket, kicking you out of the room where the padlock on your door gets cut off for leaving the lights on, requiring you to go to the office to ask for a key and a chewing out, it doesn't sound so funny.
r
This was because we ran out of bowls (my fault) and forks (my fault) so I ran to the grocery store down the block to get more. When I got back all of the bacon was gone.
Boo hoo.
I told the story anyway. (sniff.)
Anyway, we had company this week. My mom and aunt came for a visit, which put me in a split personality mode. I was seeing Breakfast through their eyes, but also seeing them through the eyes of those of us who live there.
The timing was good because my aunt brought some curtains to donate. Good ones, very large. As it turns out, S. and her family are moving and need curtains, so bonus!
I'm going to miss them. S. is a lovely person, gentle and hopeful, a good and patient mom. Her man is a gruff, proud Dutchman with a cynical intelligence and a wide range of skills. The kids are sweet. Older sister K. bright and engaging, little brother a fierce prototypical 4 year old boy with a smile that never seems to fade.
They've finally got housing under the "affordable housing" program. Problem is it's in a town a half hour's drive away. Good news, bad news. But that's the way it is. There's only so much affordable housing around and when your name comes up, you just don't say no.
So off they go. This is K's don't-know-how-many'th move since she started school. She told me during the summer that she would be glad to start and finish the year at the same school, and now she'll need to adapt. But it should be easier, now that they've got a better address.
There was an announcement recently about a planned development in the downtown area of the town next door that will be all affordable housing. It sounds like it will help a lot of people and I'm glad to hear it. The number of units that will be constructed will shorten the waiting list, for sure.
But the good news value of that is tempered by the fact that just last week in another town next door, a motel similar to ours was burned to the ground by someone who set it on fire deliberately. This is a place that some of our friends have lived short-term in times of crisis.
Now there's one less option. Now you can't say, "That's it. I've had it. I'm going to pack up and move to...". Because it's gone. Not only for those who held it out as a possible alternative, but for those who lived there, some for as long as 20 years. They'll have help short term getting shelter, but after that, the hunt is on and your name is back on the waiting list.
And you take what you can get that has walls and roof, even if it means being harassed and subjected to whatever power your landlord chooses to wield over you, legal or no.
There are fewer and fewer places like the Motel in the last few years. Some have been closed and bulldozed. Some gentrified. But whatever the reason, the people with the least are being left with fewer and fewer alternatives.
On our way home from lunch today, my friend and I drove through a neighbourhood of large, mostly antique houses. Careful landscaping, historically accurate paint and window sashes and shingles, large front yards.
She said, "Why don't we just walk in and say, "OK. We're taking over. We live here now."
We laughed about it, but when you've got an eviction notice in your pocket, kicking you out of the room where the padlock on your door gets cut off for leaving the lights on, requiring you to go to the office to ask for a key and a chewing out, it doesn't sound so funny.
r
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