In the late 1970s, a high school girl dated a man in his early twenties. They had a pretty good thing going on.
When she had a birthday a few weeks after graduation, her parents gave her a car and matching luggage. That message notwithstanding, it was a sweet car: a 1970 El Camino. She rebuilt the engine. She still misses that ride.
He was a truck driver and took her with him on his trips. They went all over the country. He taught her to drive the twelve-speed. She drove it, without a license, so he could catch z's in the sleeper and log more miles in less time. Seeing the country as an eighteen year old girl from highways and truck stops was a unique education.
They drifted apart but upon occasion maintained contact. She married me and we raised kids and then I moved out. She needed a roommate to help pay the mortgage. He was working construction and living either in a motel or in his car at the site. Her rent was cheaper, so he moved in. He took the upstairs guest room.
It was a good arrangement. He had a reliable place, and she had a male around sometimes. A large property at the end of a cul-de-sac surrounded by open acreage, beautiful as it is, can also give a lone woman fears in the middle of the night.
Over wintertime his work decreased. His common sense had never increased. She came to find out that he had a) no retirement and b) $40k in credit card bills. This and his relentless beer-fueled TV-watching challenged her patience, to say the least.
A few days ago he moved out. He couldn't afford the rent. He will live for a time in his old Cadillac. She's worried about him, but she's also worried about making the mortgage. She is considering ways to find the right sort of person for the room.
I've known people who've become homeless. Sad to say, they got there on their own. But I am concerned about people who find themselves on the edge when they are pushing sixty and at the onset of their own final winter.
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4 comments:
Very sad. I know a couple peeps my age in a bad predicament as well. Wish I could help them. Can't. Dunno where I'll end up meownself. Would never have predicted that my father, who made a FUCKLOAD of money at one time, would end up where he is either, no savings, racking up credit card debt. And he didn't do anything "wrong," except fail to financially plan like a pro. He wasn't a drunk or drug addict or gambler. He just spent money normally as people do, lost his job at age 60+, couldn't get another, etc.
The story is not so brutal in itself, until you think about where he is. It brings to mind photo essays of drifters in The West. There's always a nearly toothless man in his late fifties who probably had a similar story.
Yeah, tell me about the money running out... It's a fear I have these days, what, with my situation and all.
Fortunately I have planned, financially and can stretch this out for another several months. But it still worries me.
So sad. For everyone.
Throck, sorry for your situation as well.
These seem to be days to be lived through rather than lived in.
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