So we were at the Motel today for 3 hours, joining in with a door to door inspection. Everything went pretty smoothly, all in all. Except for one room.
It was supposed to be vacant, because the pipes froze a couple of winters ago and, like everything else, never got fixed. No water, no occupancy.
So CL took off the padlock and the door still wouldn't open. Something was jammed. A couple of the guys took turns trying to shoulder ram the thing open and after a few tries, it came open.
Very much to the shock of the young couple who had moved in without telling the manager.
Surprise!
They got dressed rather quickly while the 6 or 7 of us waited outside and the manager yelled at them from just inside the door. Told them to go to the office and wait there so they could get properly fitted into a room.
And they ran off across the parking lot, much to the amusement of M&M who were having a smoke outside a few doors down.
The reason there were so many of us trooping around the place today, knocking on doors and taking notes, is a pre-purchase inspection by the gentlemen who are probably buying the place.
I can't type that sentence without shaking my head and sighing. My arms are a bit shaky and I keep stopping to stare into space.
It's the one thing we didn't want to happen. Someone with a lot of money seriously wants to purchase the property and fix it up. Which, of course, does not mean keeping all the present tenants.
In fact, if the plans they've shared with us so far work out, it means keeping 7 of the current 60.
Which, in itself, is a minor miracle. They certainly are under no obligation to keep anybody at all. They could have insisted on buying it vacant and bulldozed. But they're not doing that and have been gracious enough to meet and work with our hobbitry, and say they hope to keep one row of the larger rooms. These would continue to be affordable to people like our friends.
As I say, they're nice people. We spent three hours together today which gave we hobbits a chance to explain a few things and to learn a few things.
It's still early days, but now all of us who live there have got the memo. There wasn't much reaction this morning as we went along, but we'll see how things go at Dinner tonight and over the next few weeks.
If the sale goes through, 6 of our friends will have to be reaccommodated by probably the end of January, since their current homes will be the first to come under the hammer. They may be bulldozed and replaced, or might be re-roofed, cleaned, replastered and insulated.
We'll have to see what happens there.
But longer term, we'll have several dozen people - some very vulnerable, mentally ill, disabled, elderly - in need of housing that doesn't seem to exist right now.
Part of the co-operation that needs to happen between the buyers and us is that they needed an "inventory" of who lives there, what ID they have, and what they pay per month.
One man answered our knock and saw the half dozen of us standing there. He tried to shut the door, but the manager held it open. So the man panicked, ran out his door and all the way across the parking lot where he stood frightened, asking, "Who are they? Who are they?" The manager tried to explain, but he was so upset we couldn't even ask his last name, which no one knows. So we let it go and moved away from his door so he could go home again.
And this is a man who's expected to get on a bus to the next town, walk into a big office building and through the door of the agency that has the forms he has to complete in order to apply for affordable housing.
Yeah. That's gonna happen.
The next few months are going to be tense and tricky, I think. Most of these people are survivors, as I've said before. They survived more than this. But the Motel has become a gathering point for the hurting and we're going to have to walk carefully with them.
And boy howdy, it's not what we signed on for. It's one thing to be bringing Dinner every week and sitting and chatting and playing cards with your little tribe. It's another thing altogether to see the tribe being scattered.
And yet another level of things that suck to have to help to do it.
r
It was supposed to be vacant, because the pipes froze a couple of winters ago and, like everything else, never got fixed. No water, no occupancy.
So CL took off the padlock and the door still wouldn't open. Something was jammed. A couple of the guys took turns trying to shoulder ram the thing open and after a few tries, it came open.
Very much to the shock of the young couple who had moved in without telling the manager.
Surprise!
They got dressed rather quickly while the 6 or 7 of us waited outside and the manager yelled at them from just inside the door. Told them to go to the office and wait there so they could get properly fitted into a room.
And they ran off across the parking lot, much to the amusement of M&M who were having a smoke outside a few doors down.
The reason there were so many of us trooping around the place today, knocking on doors and taking notes, is a pre-purchase inspection by the gentlemen who are probably buying the place.
I can't type that sentence without shaking my head and sighing. My arms are a bit shaky and I keep stopping to stare into space.
It's the one thing we didn't want to happen. Someone with a lot of money seriously wants to purchase the property and fix it up. Which, of course, does not mean keeping all the present tenants.
In fact, if the plans they've shared with us so far work out, it means keeping 7 of the current 60.
Which, in itself, is a minor miracle. They certainly are under no obligation to keep anybody at all. They could have insisted on buying it vacant and bulldozed. But they're not doing that and have been gracious enough to meet and work with our hobbitry, and say they hope to keep one row of the larger rooms. These would continue to be affordable to people like our friends.
As I say, they're nice people. We spent three hours together today which gave we hobbits a chance to explain a few things and to learn a few things.
It's still early days, but now all of us who live there have got the memo. There wasn't much reaction this morning as we went along, but we'll see how things go at Dinner tonight and over the next few weeks.
If the sale goes through, 6 of our friends will have to be reaccommodated by probably the end of January, since their current homes will be the first to come under the hammer. They may be bulldozed and replaced, or might be re-roofed, cleaned, replastered and insulated.
We'll have to see what happens there.
But longer term, we'll have several dozen people - some very vulnerable, mentally ill, disabled, elderly - in need of housing that doesn't seem to exist right now.
Part of the co-operation that needs to happen between the buyers and us is that they needed an "inventory" of who lives there, what ID they have, and what they pay per month.
One man answered our knock and saw the half dozen of us standing there. He tried to shut the door, but the manager held it open. So the man panicked, ran out his door and all the way across the parking lot where he stood frightened, asking, "Who are they? Who are they?" The manager tried to explain, but he was so upset we couldn't even ask his last name, which no one knows. So we let it go and moved away from his door so he could go home again.
And this is a man who's expected to get on a bus to the next town, walk into a big office building and through the door of the agency that has the forms he has to complete in order to apply for affordable housing.
Yeah. That's gonna happen.
The next few months are going to be tense and tricky, I think. Most of these people are survivors, as I've said before. They survived more than this. But the Motel has become a gathering point for the hurting and we're going to have to walk carefully with them.
And boy howdy, it's not what we signed on for. It's one thing to be bringing Dinner every week and sitting and chatting and playing cards with your little tribe. It's another thing altogether to see the tribe being scattered.
And yet another level of things that suck to have to help to do it.
r
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