Apparently I had the address wrong.
When C. went to look at the house, on one of the few remaining days in the month, she found that it was a complete disaster. Not only were the plumbing fixtures gone, so was the front door and there was "no kitchen".
So for a mere $350 a month plus materials and labour (just replacing the front door and fitting it with locks would be a couple hundred), they'd have been renting a bombed out box. Fortunately, they hadn't officially given their notice to the Motel's manager. He'd heard unofficially that they'd be moving, and he'd got someone lined up and ready to move into their room. But C. hadn't spoken directly to him, so she and her man still have their roof.
It amazes me every time how quickly these rooms are filled when someone moves out. That there is a waiting list for this place just says that there's sumpin' ain't right.
I learned this week from a study done in our area that nearly 9% of people in our county live in homes "requiring major repairs." Which is a measure of "residential" buildings. Not sure whether it includes the Motel.
There was a pile of tarp on the ground next to E.'s room the other day from when the wind blew her roof open. It's patched now. Who knows. Last year's patch job was a mud flap from a semi truck, glued down with driveway sealer. Works great, if it don't rain and it don't snow.
We said toodles this week to our very own Cassini sisters. They're on their way south for the summer (!) and the adventure continues from there. Gonna miss them. Their spirit, their perspective, their smiles. We hope to see them again in a few months when they swing by on their way to more exotic places.
Tomorrow morning is a first, and I'm not quite sure what to expect. We've (those of us who live there and those of us who don't) been invited to a ladies' breakfast at a local church. This congregation has committed to providing meals for Dinner once every other month, which is a tremendous gift. Some of us are getting a bit fatigued with the cooking.
So anyway, they invited us not only to come to Breakfast, but to speak. Three of us have taken them up on the offer: C., who has lived at the Motel for less than a year, C.L., who 's lived there for 6 or 7 years, and I, who have never lived there. We'll each take 5 minutes or so to say whatever we have to say and then I'll sing a couple of songs. Very exciting. Not exactly "Women of Faith" (copyrighttrademarkallrightsreserved), but still... Better, maybe.
C.L. has written some letters to the local paper, which have been published, objecting to the reputation that's been foisted on Motelians by uninformed citizens, characterizing them all as criminals and the Motel as a "haven for pedophiles".
C. is writing a novel, which I'm enjoying editing. 'Cause it means I get to read it first.
They've both come through pretty harsh stuff, and emerged loveable and bright, undefeated and indefatigable with spirits that shine and 100 watt smiles. I'm looking forward to hearing what they have to say. And I get to play my ukulele. All that and danishes, too.
C.L.'s van is repaired now, thanks to a young guy who lives at the Motel. For a while she couldn't start it up and go anywhere, for fear she might not get home again. She'd tried a couple of batteries, and a few other things, but couldn't get it working again. At Dinner this week, she was smiling a mile wide saying that all she has to do is turn the key and it starts! Wonderful luxury.
There's been some talk lately about the "community" that exists at the Motel, both among the GTI team and a local body called the "Affordable Housing Steering Committee". Some of us attended a local forum on the subject last week and we were able to inform some people, who are interested in the issue in general, about this specific corner of town. There is, I think, a real concern and a growing awareness that the Motel is needed and that it serves a genuine need and a niche. That, rather than being a "haven for pedophiles" or a ghetto, it's a good thing. And that it could be better.
We talked at Dinner this week about how good it is when it's good, and how wonderful it could be if the drug dealers could be got rid of. We talked about fixing things, and helping each other, and having residents' meetings to talk about stuff.
Encouraging.
r
When C. went to look at the house, on one of the few remaining days in the month, she found that it was a complete disaster. Not only were the plumbing fixtures gone, so was the front door and there was "no kitchen".
So for a mere $350 a month plus materials and labour (just replacing the front door and fitting it with locks would be a couple hundred), they'd have been renting a bombed out box. Fortunately, they hadn't officially given their notice to the Motel's manager. He'd heard unofficially that they'd be moving, and he'd got someone lined up and ready to move into their room. But C. hadn't spoken directly to him, so she and her man still have their roof.
It amazes me every time how quickly these rooms are filled when someone moves out. That there is a waiting list for this place just says that there's sumpin' ain't right.
I learned this week from a study done in our area that nearly 9% of people in our county live in homes "requiring major repairs." Which is a measure of "residential" buildings. Not sure whether it includes the Motel.
There was a pile of tarp on the ground next to E.'s room the other day from when the wind blew her roof open. It's patched now. Who knows. Last year's patch job was a mud flap from a semi truck, glued down with driveway sealer. Works great, if it don't rain and it don't snow.
We said toodles this week to our very own Cassini sisters. They're on their way south for the summer (!) and the adventure continues from there. Gonna miss them. Their spirit, their perspective, their smiles. We hope to see them again in a few months when they swing by on their way to more exotic places.
Tomorrow morning is a first, and I'm not quite sure what to expect. We've (those of us who live there and those of us who don't) been invited to a ladies' breakfast at a local church. This congregation has committed to providing meals for Dinner once every other month, which is a tremendous gift. Some of us are getting a bit fatigued with the cooking.
So anyway, they invited us not only to come to Breakfast, but to speak. Three of us have taken them up on the offer: C., who has lived at the Motel for less than a year, C.L., who 's lived there for 6 or 7 years, and I, who have never lived there. We'll each take 5 minutes or so to say whatever we have to say and then I'll sing a couple of songs. Very exciting. Not exactly "Women of Faith" (copyrighttrademarkallrightsreserved), but still... Better, maybe.
C.L. has written some letters to the local paper, which have been published, objecting to the reputation that's been foisted on Motelians by uninformed citizens, characterizing them all as criminals and the Motel as a "haven for pedophiles".
C. is writing a novel, which I'm enjoying editing. 'Cause it means I get to read it first.
They've both come through pretty harsh stuff, and emerged loveable and bright, undefeated and indefatigable with spirits that shine and 100 watt smiles. I'm looking forward to hearing what they have to say. And I get to play my ukulele. All that and danishes, too.
C.L.'s van is repaired now, thanks to a young guy who lives at the Motel. For a while she couldn't start it up and go anywhere, for fear she might not get home again. She'd tried a couple of batteries, and a few other things, but couldn't get it working again. At Dinner this week, she was smiling a mile wide saying that all she has to do is turn the key and it starts! Wonderful luxury.
There's been some talk lately about the "community" that exists at the Motel, both among the GTI team and a local body called the "Affordable Housing Steering Committee". Some of us attended a local forum on the subject last week and we were able to inform some people, who are interested in the issue in general, about this specific corner of town. There is, I think, a real concern and a growing awareness that the Motel is needed and that it serves a genuine need and a niche. That, rather than being a "haven for pedophiles" or a ghetto, it's a good thing. And that it could be better.
We talked at Dinner this week about how good it is when it's good, and how wonderful it could be if the drug dealers could be got rid of. We talked about fixing things, and helping each other, and having residents' meetings to talk about stuff.
Encouraging.
r
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