"Evolution"
A essay on hope by Karen Lee,
Resident of Arlington, Vermont
Native Floridian
Written August, 2008
I used to fight the good fight. As a longtime volunteer environmental activist I am mentally and emotionally beleaguered, besieged, despondent, and full of cynicism. I have personally witnessed people at their worst -- greedy, selfish, short-sighted, and cruel. For many years now I have accepted with detached defeatism the inevitability of the failure of humankind to be successful stewards of our planet. We’re even worse at being caretakers of each other. Because I am not a spiritual person, finding solace in the faith of a benevolent super-being was not an option for me. I respect the religious faith of others and am happy for people that find comfort in their beliefs, but I consider my secular attitude as scientifically enlightened. I lightheartedly refer to myself as a member of the Church of Carl Sagan. I am in awe of the cosmos and have reverence for the beauty found in the random order of nature. So, seeking my own emotional peace, and to help me come to terms with the continual wrongdoings of mankind, I began long ago to evaluate our species from a cosmic perspective.
It has been ironically comforting for me to perceive Homo sapiens akin to a meteor or comet that has been hurtling toward earth on a cataclysmic course since our evolution. Our innate ability to ruthlessly destroy other species and dominate every natural ecosystem has led to our prolific success while coincidentally insuring the doom of the contemporary earth’s biosphere. From an evolutionary point of view, it is only natural that such a highly intelligent, adaptable creature as man would evolve, and it is only inevitable that the earth’s ecosystems would be altered by this lately evolved, ultimate predator.
Why do we think that today’s (or yesterday’s) climate, ecosystems, flora, and fauna are so precious? The earth has existed through many dramatically different changes of climate. The effects of evolution resulted in biological diversity compatible with each unique climatic condition. It is another in a long list of egocentric anthropogenic opinions to state that our modern earth is particularly special and, therefore, worth saving in its current (recent past) condition. The terminal fate of today’s (yesterday’s) ecosystems was determined a few hundred thousand years ago when mitochondrial Eve was born in the Rift Valley of Africa. Global climate change caused by the actions of Homo sapiens was inevitable and unavoidable. In the words of folk singer Jimmy Buffett, “Planets come and planets go. Apocalypso.”
Or so I thought. Resolved and full of gloom for our children’s future and the plight of the present earth, I was comfortably detached in 2003 when China built the largest dam in the world, the Three Gorges Dam, displacing indigenous human cultures and natural ecosystems. As the coral reefs of tropical oceans continued to bleach and die, as rainforests were burned, and as hundreds of species daily were permanently exterminated by human actions, I looked away dispassionately. When the Bush Administration denied the facts of global warming and kept the United States from participating in the Kyoto Treaty, I was unsurprised and unaffected. Self-indulgent gluttons continued to rape and pillage the earth, while despots, tyrants, and religious zealots murdered each other in senseless wars and vicious acts of genocide. I knew that these insane acts were the manifestations of Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest. Inter-and intra-species competition for and exploitation of finite resources were the enactments of predictable and predetermined natural functions.
While respectful and with admiration for their work, I pitied the heroic efforts of Al Gore and other advocates for reversal of climate change. I thought, “Those poor, deluded souls. They should know it’s too little, and we’re too late.” When the Arctic seaway opening to shipping in the summer of 2008, I was shocked by the blatant evidence that global warming truly is upon us and that we will experience dramatic effects of climate change during our lifetimes. I’m certain that some of the spark of momentary motivation came from an urgent sense of self preservation, but I almost became re-energized and almost rediscovered an activist’s passion. Almost. Before I jumped back into the fray of fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with my environmental friends, I took a deep breath and stepped back. I realized that ice melting due to global warming is only inevitable…ultimately natural, right? I decided, once again, to get over it and returned to my protective bubble of despair.
Although I had given up, and was officially retired as an environmental activist, I was mildly interested in U.S. politics, just to keep up the impression of having social graces, of course. (There’s no point to it all, naturally.) I was a supporter of Hillary Clinton for president and was unhappy when her bid for the Democratic nomination failed. I had respect for Barack Obama, but did not believe that our society was ready for him, or that he was prepared to be the most powerful leader of the human race. You see, I’m from the South. I know the bigotry that is still pervasive in the hearts and minds of millions of brainwashed and ignorant Americans living in the Deep South, the West, Mid-West, and in the corners of every region of the United States. I thought it possible that Americans just might vote for a woman, but Americans would not elect a person of color, and certainly not one with a name like Barack Obama.
I am terrified and elated to admit that I think I might have been wrong. Since I stopped listening to Hillary, I started listening to Barack. I watched in amazement as tens of thousands of people of all ethnicities were captivated and inspired by his speeches; speeches that were full of intelligence, insight, leadership. Words that made sense and unabashedly addressed the weaknesses of the human condition while preaching a message of – dare I write the terrifying word – HOPE.
In the past, I have heard several intelligent, wise, educated speakers say the right words. But, never in my life had I witnessed those words spoken in a manner that had such a dramatic impact on so many people, as did the words spoken by Barack Obama. I was intrigued as people were moved from complacency to enthusiasm; “Drinking the Kool-Aid,” according to CNN commentators. I began to wonder about the real possibilities of change.
Is it possible that we humans can redirect our destiny? Can we outsmart the irresistible forces of evolution and overcome our genetic urges to take, kill, abuse, and destroy? Can we evolve again and change our apocalyptic meteoric course to become Homo intelligencia and ultimately survive as the wisest, kindest, and truly “fittest” species on earth? Is it possible that one human, speaking clearly and sanely, can stir the enthusiasm of millions of disillusioned and disenfranchised people? Can we, then, inspire and educate others so that we all learn to live in peace together and in peace with our planet? Can we effectively communicate with Rush Limbaugh’s devotees who are drunk on his toxic flavored Kool-Aid? Can we reach their closed minds and help them see the human race’s urgent need for change?
I am reluctant to emerge from my comfort zone of avoidance and despondent resignation, but a more powerful emotion than reluctance is growing within me. The sensation is strange to me in my adult life. It is terrifying, almost physically painful. It is the feeling of hope. I am overwhelmed by the possibility of a healthy future for my grandchildren. I am cautious, full of trepidation, but I admit I do have hope.
Can we really do this?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Well Story
May, 2008.
When we first arrived home at Summer Hill from our winter months in Florida, I was very excited to get out of the motorhome, and stand for a long time under a hot shower. But, the shower I longed for was not to be! Our well pump had stopped working. There was no water coming out of our taps. We called our local plumber, and he and Jim began the search for our well head to try and retrieve and replace the old pump. Because the well had been dug many years before modern code requirements, the well head was not installed above ground. We had only a general idea about the possible location of the old well head. That afternoon, we were unable to locate the well and we had return to the motorhome to take showers and go to the bathroom.
The next day, we hired a backhoe & operator, and he dug a giant cavity six feet deep, about 20 feet by 20 feet square. The plumber finally found the old well head. But, unfortunately, during the attempt to extract the old pump, the interior sides of the well caved in! Uh oh.
Our next step was to call a well driller and get on a WAITING LIST. We waited ten days for him to show up. (Back to living in the motorhome again.) The driller started by drilling near the old well. He drilled 360 feet, only to reach a limestone cavern that caved in. OK, his next drill spot was about fifty feet across the driveway (are you getting the picture of our formerly beautiful driveway and lawn?)...He drilled 160 feet down and reached another cavern that was evidently connected to the first well and vapor came geysering out of the first hole! Very interesting geologically, but not good for us.
The drill operator took out his divining rod (I am NOT kidding) and started poking all around the yard, including in my flower and vegetable gardens. Un-f-ing-believable. He tried to give up and leave, telling us we had no well water under our property. WHAT?!? So, you're telling me we have to live in our motorhome forever and that our home is now worthless? I don't THINK so! The drill operator called in the Big Guy, his daddy. Daddy Driller relocated the rig to the opposite end of the driveway, enlarged the drill bit, and encased the hole the entire way down in welded steel pipes, to protect against cave-ins. At 167 feet, he struck a LOT of water, but it was full of ocher (red clay).
That day, I learned a new word: "turbulating." I'm not so sure the word would hold up in a scrabble game. But in the well business, to Turbulate means "To vigorously pump air deep into a well cavity, pushing the the water out of the well with great force causing significant turbidity, in order to clean out the loose debris and to create a clean well water storage cavity." The ocher had to be removed from the water before it would be potable.
You cannot imagine the volume of turbulated water, foamy & brownish orange (coincidentally, about the same color as raw sewage) that came gushing out of the top of that new well. The water was actually clean (except for iron and other minerals). Because the water came from a well that was so deep, it had no nutrients and no pollution, it was just reddish limestone silt, but it looked awful. ...
... OK, picture this: We live on a hillside above a wild and scenic, very famous river -- the Batten Kill. The world-renowned fly-fishing retailer, Orvis, started here, on the Batten Kill. People come from around the world to fish in this pristine place.
About fifty gallons of foamy brownish orange water per minute were rushing down the hill from our new well. Toward the Batten Kill. During this entire well ordeal, I had been trying to be calm and not act like the screaming Flatlander* environmentalist that we all know I am. (*Flatlander is the local term for non-native Vermonters who moved here from anywhere else.) I had tried to go along and get along with the locals, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I followed the orange rivulet down the hill as it rushed through the stormwater ditch, into a culvert, under our road, down our neighbor's hill, into another culvert, under River Road, and directly INTO THE BATTEN KILL! I had followed the flow about 800 feet down our very steep hill, and I was now freaking out at the bottom of the hill. There I was, overweight, out of shape, trying to run back up the hill to tell the driller to TURN OFF THE F-ING PUMP! By the time, huffing and puffing, I finally got back to our driveway, about a mile's worth of orange silty water had poured into the river from our property.
Can you imagine? I was mortified! The driller and his daddy tried to assure me that the water was perfectly clean, there was no problem. No worries, ma'am. !!! Yeah, right. I knew better. They finally turned off the turbulating pump. Since it was 5 p.m., the drillers went home for the day, leaving the evidence stream flowing all the way to the Hudson.
The next morning, at 6:00 a.m. (real Vermonters are Morning People) the entire body of Selectmen (AKA: City Councilmen) of Arlington and the head of the local highway department were in our driveway. Their phones had rung off their hooks the night before with complaints from citizens about polluted water flowing into the river coming in from direction of our house. It took some extremely apologetic fast-talking on my part and Jim's, and we somehow avoided a fine or jail sentence. The river, of course, was absolutely OK since the gush from our well really and truly was clean water. The quality of water from our well was actually better than runoff from a storm or snowmelt, but it looked just awful.
Anyway, several thousand dollars in well drilling and trenching expense and four weeks later, we have copious amounts of crystal clear spring water now pumping into the plumbing system of our house. What an ordeal. Fresh water will never be taken for granted by me again!
Three days ago, Jim finished hand shoveling 22 TONS of gravel on the driveway and 10 TONS of topsoil on the yard to repair the well drilling damage. He distributed several bags of grass seed to repair the lawn.
Two days after the re-seeding, we had a rare (global warming) hailstorm and all of the seed and most of the new topsoil washed away. Into the Batten Kill.
Other than that, everything's been great! ... Seriously, everything here is really, really beautiful, the weather has been mostly perfect -- warm days, cool nights, and flowers are blooming everywhere. Very, very scenic and wonderful. I just had to share our well experience with you.
Karen Lee
Summer Hill
June, 2008
When we first arrived home at Summer Hill from our winter months in Florida, I was very excited to get out of the motorhome, and stand for a long time under a hot shower. But, the shower I longed for was not to be! Our well pump had stopped working. There was no water coming out of our taps. We called our local plumber, and he and Jim began the search for our well head to try and retrieve and replace the old pump. Because the well had been dug many years before modern code requirements, the well head was not installed above ground. We had only a general idea about the possible location of the old well head. That afternoon, we were unable to locate the well and we had return to the motorhome to take showers and go to the bathroom.
The next day, we hired a backhoe & operator, and he dug a giant cavity six feet deep, about 20 feet by 20 feet square. The plumber finally found the old well head. But, unfortunately, during the attempt to extract the old pump, the interior sides of the well caved in! Uh oh.
Our next step was to call a well driller and get on a WAITING LIST. We waited ten days for him to show up. (Back to living in the motorhome again.) The driller started by drilling near the old well. He drilled 360 feet, only to reach a limestone cavern that caved in. OK, his next drill spot was about fifty feet across the driveway (are you getting the picture of our formerly beautiful driveway and lawn?)...He drilled 160 feet down and reached another cavern that was evidently connected to the first well and vapor came geysering out of the first hole! Very interesting geologically, but not good for us.
The drill operator took out his divining rod (I am NOT kidding) and started poking all around the yard, including in my flower and vegetable gardens. Un-f-ing-believable. He tried to give up and leave, telling us we had no well water under our property. WHAT?!? So, you're telling me we have to live in our motorhome forever and that our home is now worthless? I don't THINK so! The drill operator called in the Big Guy, his daddy. Daddy Driller relocated the rig to the opposite end of the driveway, enlarged the drill bit, and encased the hole the entire way down in welded steel pipes, to protect against cave-ins. At 167 feet, he struck a LOT of water, but it was full of ocher (red clay).
That day, I learned a new word: "turbulating." I'm not so sure the word would hold up in a scrabble game. But in the well business, to Turbulate means "To vigorously pump air deep into a well cavity, pushing the the water out of the well with great force causing significant turbidity, in order to clean out the loose debris and to create a clean well water storage cavity." The ocher had to be removed from the water before it would be potable.
You cannot imagine the volume of turbulated water, foamy & brownish orange (coincidentally, about the same color as raw sewage) that came gushing out of the top of that new well. The water was actually clean (except for iron and other minerals). Because the water came from a well that was so deep, it had no nutrients and no pollution, it was just reddish limestone silt, but it looked awful. ...
... OK, picture this: We live on a hillside above a wild and scenic, very famous river -- the Batten Kill. The world-renowned fly-fishing retailer, Orvis, started here, on the Batten Kill. People come from around the world to fish in this pristine place.
About fifty gallons of foamy brownish orange water per minute were rushing down the hill from our new well. Toward the Batten Kill. During this entire well ordeal, I had been trying to be calm and not act like the screaming Flatlander* environmentalist that we all know I am. (*Flatlander is the local term for non-native Vermonters who moved here from anywhere else.) I had tried to go along and get along with the locals, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I followed the orange rivulet down the hill as it rushed through the stormwater ditch, into a culvert, under our road, down our neighbor's hill, into another culvert, under River Road, and directly INTO THE BATTEN KILL! I had followed the flow about 800 feet down our very steep hill, and I was now freaking out at the bottom of the hill. There I was, overweight, out of shape, trying to run back up the hill to tell the driller to TURN OFF THE F-ING PUMP! By the time, huffing and puffing, I finally got back to our driveway, about a mile's worth of orange silty water had poured into the river from our property.
Can you imagine? I was mortified! The driller and his daddy tried to assure me that the water was perfectly clean, there was no problem. No worries, ma'am. !!! Yeah, right. I knew better. They finally turned off the turbulating pump. Since it was 5 p.m., the drillers went home for the day, leaving the evidence stream flowing all the way to the Hudson.
The next morning, at 6:00 a.m. (real Vermonters are Morning People) the entire body of Selectmen (AKA: City Councilmen) of Arlington and the head of the local highway department were in our driveway. Their phones had rung off their hooks the night before with complaints from citizens about polluted water flowing into the river coming in from direction of our house. It took some extremely apologetic fast-talking on my part and Jim's, and we somehow avoided a fine or jail sentence. The river, of course, was absolutely OK since the gush from our well really and truly was clean water. The quality of water from our well was actually better than runoff from a storm or snowmelt, but it looked just awful.
Anyway, several thousand dollars in well drilling and trenching expense and four weeks later, we have copious amounts of crystal clear spring water now pumping into the plumbing system of our house. What an ordeal. Fresh water will never be taken for granted by me again!
Three days ago, Jim finished hand shoveling 22 TONS of gravel on the driveway and 10 TONS of topsoil on the yard to repair the well drilling damage. He distributed several bags of grass seed to repair the lawn.
Two days after the re-seeding, we had a rare (global warming) hailstorm and all of the seed and most of the new topsoil washed away. Into the Batten Kill.
Other than that, everything's been great! ... Seriously, everything here is really, really beautiful, the weather has been mostly perfect -- warm days, cool nights, and flowers are blooming everywhere. Very, very scenic and wonderful. I just had to share our well experience with you.
Karen Lee
Summer Hill
June, 2008
Panther Lake's Lucky Stinker
Stinky's Humble Beginnings
(written November, 2004)
The day before Thanksgiving in 2001, while driving in their van on County Road 630 in Polk County, Florida, Karen Lee and her husband, Jim, rescued an abandoned, abused, sickly puppy. Speeding trucks full of oranges from the morning's harvest dodged her as she sat waiting for them, on the white line marking the edge of the two-lane highway. The Lees didn't see her at first, as they zoomed by at 60 miles an hour. Simultaneously, they turned to each other and exclaimed, "It's a PUPPY!" Half a second later, "It's a border collie!" Jim pulled over onto the shoulder of the road, and Karen leapt from the van. Having had several extremely unfortunate experiences with attempts to rescue dogs, cats, and gopher turtles from highways, Karen was cautious. She was concerned that the puppy may have been feral, and afraid of people. Approaching the puppy might have sent her directly into the path of a multi-ton mass of racing fruit truck. So, Karen crouched down, more than ten feet back from the edge of the highway, down into the sandspurs and briars of the typical roadside scrub of central Florida. She called, "Here, Puppy, Puppy, Puppy!" The little dog evidently couldn't see Karen, but she heard her and immediately started air scenting to find the source of the human voice. The puppy ran into the center of the road, heading in the general direction of the Lee's van. Karen had a severe attack of panic, thinking that in the last few seconds before her rescue, the puppy would be hit by a truck. Just in time, the puppy spied the crouching human and ran toward Karen, launching into her outstretched arms. The puppy squealed with evident relief, joy, and ravenous hunger. She bit at Karen's ears and face maniacally.
Karen had a very strong stomach and was not prone to vomiting, but the smell of that puppy caused her to retch. The puppy smelled like diarrhea and decaying flesh with the essence of kerosene. What a little stinker! The Lees immediately took her to a local veterinarian (one that was unknown to the Lees, at the time), thinking she would have to be euthanised. As they entered front door of the vet office, all other patients and their humans cleared the waiting room due to the overwhelming stench from the mongrel in Karen's arms. The receptionist asked, "What do you want us to do with that?" Karen replied, "We found this puppy, and we want to see if you can help her!" The only response from the skeptical clerk was a sneer. Karen said, "We have money, we're going to pay!" The receptionist asked, "And then, what?" To which Jim replied, "Of course, we're gonna keep her!"
After besting the reluctant receptionist, the Lees were allowed to see the vet. Much to their surprise, the doctor examined the pitiful wretch and proclaimed her to be a "Diamond in the Rough!" He diagnosed her as having a severe total-body case of highly-contagious scabies and mange, and told the Lees that she had recently been dipped in burned motor oil, a common redneck treatment for mange. Horrified, the Lees told the vet that they would take responsibility for the puppy and that she would join their family. Karen mentioned that, after her recovery, maybe she would even become an agility dog. The vet looked at the little dog and said, "Stinky little puppy, I think you just won the lottery!"
Eight weeks of quarantine and several medical treatments later (Karen had to take a shower each time she touched the puppy, which was four times a day, for eight weeks!), little Stinky grew to became a healthy dog with a beautiful coat! She is now Panther Lake's Lucky Stinker, CGC, OA, NAJ, AD. Stinky is the apple of Jim's eye, and is Karen's canine freestyle (doggy dancing) partner. Stinky is quite a ham in front of an audience, she absolutely loves to dance, and also loves dog agility.
The Lees travel all over Florida and the USA, attending dog agility events with Stinky and their other dog, a Border Collie named Carly, when they're not at home in Islamorada in the Florida Keys. They support Karen's dog agility habit by working as mortgage brokers in their mom & pop mortgage business, Conch Republic Mortgage Corp. (November, 2004)
(written November, 2004)
The day before Thanksgiving in 2001, while driving in their van on County Road 630 in Polk County, Florida, Karen Lee and her husband, Jim, rescued an abandoned, abused, sickly puppy. Speeding trucks full of oranges from the morning's harvest dodged her as she sat waiting for them, on the white line marking the edge of the two-lane highway. The Lees didn't see her at first, as they zoomed by at 60 miles an hour. Simultaneously, they turned to each other and exclaimed, "It's a PUPPY!" Half a second later, "It's a border collie!" Jim pulled over onto the shoulder of the road, and Karen leapt from the van. Having had several extremely unfortunate experiences with attempts to rescue dogs, cats, and gopher turtles from highways, Karen was cautious. She was concerned that the puppy may have been feral, and afraid of people. Approaching the puppy might have sent her directly into the path of a multi-ton mass of racing fruit truck. So, Karen crouched down, more than ten feet back from the edge of the highway, down into the sandspurs and briars of the typical roadside scrub of central Florida. She called, "Here, Puppy, Puppy, Puppy!" The little dog evidently couldn't see Karen, but she heard her and immediately started air scenting to find the source of the human voice. The puppy ran into the center of the road, heading in the general direction of the Lee's van. Karen had a severe attack of panic, thinking that in the last few seconds before her rescue, the puppy would be hit by a truck. Just in time, the puppy spied the crouching human and ran toward Karen, launching into her outstretched arms. The puppy squealed with evident relief, joy, and ravenous hunger. She bit at Karen's ears and face maniacally.
Karen had a very strong stomach and was not prone to vomiting, but the smell of that puppy caused her to retch. The puppy smelled like diarrhea and decaying flesh with the essence of kerosene. What a little stinker! The Lees immediately took her to a local veterinarian (one that was unknown to the Lees, at the time), thinking she would have to be euthanised. As they entered front door of the vet office, all other patients and their humans cleared the waiting room due to the overwhelming stench from the mongrel in Karen's arms. The receptionist asked, "What do you want us to do with that?" Karen replied, "We found this puppy, and we want to see if you can help her!" The only response from the skeptical clerk was a sneer. Karen said, "We have money, we're going to pay!" The receptionist asked, "And then, what?" To which Jim replied, "Of course, we're gonna keep her!"
After besting the reluctant receptionist, the Lees were allowed to see the vet. Much to their surprise, the doctor examined the pitiful wretch and proclaimed her to be a "Diamond in the Rough!" He diagnosed her as having a severe total-body case of highly-contagious scabies and mange, and told the Lees that she had recently been dipped in burned motor oil, a common redneck treatment for mange. Horrified, the Lees told the vet that they would take responsibility for the puppy and that she would join their family. Karen mentioned that, after her recovery, maybe she would even become an agility dog. The vet looked at the little dog and said, "Stinky little puppy, I think you just won the lottery!"
Eight weeks of quarantine and several medical treatments later (Karen had to take a shower each time she touched the puppy, which was four times a day, for eight weeks!), little Stinky grew to became a healthy dog with a beautiful coat! She is now Panther Lake's Lucky Stinker, CGC, OA, NAJ, AD. Stinky is the apple of Jim's eye, and is Karen's canine freestyle (doggy dancing) partner. Stinky is quite a ham in front of an audience, she absolutely loves to dance, and also loves dog agility.
The Lees travel all over Florida and the USA, attending dog agility events with Stinky and their other dog, a Border Collie named Carly, when they're not at home in Islamorada in the Florida Keys. They support Karen's dog agility habit by working as mortgage brokers in their mom & pop mortgage business, Conch Republic Mortgage Corp. (November, 2004)
Ten in Ten
Ten in Ten
June, 2008
Following is a story about foresight, hindsight, financial gain, financial loss, hope, perseverance, and optimism. The message is…We all need to pick ourselves up, change our lives, and get to work!
Most of my adult life, I was a mortgage industry professional. In that 30 year career, I held almost every position available in the mortgage field, from receptionist to senior lending officer for a small bank. From 1994 until 2005 my husband Jim and I owned and operated a small, successful mortgage brokerage business in the Florida Keys. No, we never participated in subprime lending. I was brought up in a time when loans were granted to qualified individuals, in loan amounts relative to each applicant’s ability to afford the proposed housing payment. Call me old fashioned. During the days of big bucks being made by others in the mortgage business who were playing fast and loose with underwriting guidelines, Jim and I chose to stay with our conservative business approach. We were just regular workin’ stiffs, plugging away, originating “vanilla” loan product. We missed opportunities to make lots of money, but we slept well at night.
We were fortunate to have bought a modest waterfront home in 1989 in Islamorada, and during our years of living and working in paradise in the Florida Keys, we made substantial improvements to that home. In 2005, as everyone knows, the real estate market was booming, especially for waterfront properties. Jim and I decided to sell our home and use the proceeds from the sale to take advantage of the knowledge we had gained from our 30 year experience in real estate finance and become real estate investors. We were thrilled with the prospect of beginning a new career, and felt proud (a little smug, actually) to have cashed out before the mortgage market crashed. There was actually a brief point in time when our net worth exceeded a million dollars! We were very impressed with ourselves. In the summer of 2005, Jim and I would giggle together occasionally and say it was our goal to make “Ten in Ten.” That is -- ten million dollars in ten years. We were delusional, of course, and more than a little silly with a heavy dose of good ol' American greed.
I was anxious to invest our chunk of change right away…to ”put it in the dirt!” I thought, “Everyone knows that real estate, especially real estate in Florida, is the most sound investment of all!” In 2005, there was a wide spread sense of near panic among real estate purchasers to buy properties as soon as possible, before the prices got further away from us. Our plan was sound (we thought), tried and true – we would buy fixer-upper homes in desirable neighborhoods, renovate them, rent them, and sell them for profits in a few years. We anticipated that the real estate market might soften somewhat, but our plan included putting down at least 30 percent on each house, allowing for minimum mortgage payments that could easily be covered by rental income, even in a softer real estate market. (The ironic thing is that if we had highly-leveraged our purchases with sub-prime mortgages -- not that we ever would have! -- we wouldn’t have lost so much cash! But, I’m old fashioned, remember?) So, we bought a few investment properties in Florida and a summer home in Vermont. We were so confident in our investment acumen that we even loaned two hundred thousand dollars to our daughter so that she and her husband could purchase a business in Palm Beach county. We were on our way to becoming successful in our new careers as semi-retired investors!
Of course, as it turned out, our plan could hardly have been worse. We invested almost all of our cash, keeping little in reserve. In addition to the 30 percent (plus closing costs) we put down, we invested several thousand dollars in improvements and upgrades on each property. When the real estate market flattened in 2006, we weren’t worried -- we had a good plan. As it always had before, the market would bounce back, and our tenants were paying their rents. In 2007, things got slower, people starting talking about a long term real estate recession. Florida led the country in mortgage delinquencies, builders had overbuilt, speculators had overspeculated, Florida’s booming real estate market was bust! The ripple effect through the economy was pervasive. Businesses failed, including our daughter’s. She and her husband and thousands of people in Florida lost their jobs, especially those living in resort and retirement communities. People were unable to pay their rents. They were unable to pay their rents to us. Oops.
Toward the end of 2007, we were no longer living in denial that our real estate investment strategy was going to work. We were no longer millionaires. Ten in ten now meant ten dollars in ten years. Jim and I had already put most of our houses on the market for sale, offering them for slightly less than we had invested in them. We were ready and willing to take our hits and get on with our lives, but we didn’t yet understand that getting on with it wouldn’t be very easy. We couldn’t sell any of our houses, at any price! There was no market at all! Each of us began looking for jobs and soon discovered that we weren’t qualified for any professional employment opportunities that were available. Our so-called skills were in businesses that were out of business – mortgages and real estate. It was a humbling realization to learn that, in our advanced middle age we were unemployable!
We were not ready to lie down and die. We needed to make money. We needed to go to work. Whining and crying about our losses wasn’t going to do us any good. “Okay,” I thought, “Since we aren’t qualified to go to work for anyone else, then obviously, we should run our own business, but what should we do?” Planning ahead for self employment opportunities in a recession or depression is interesting. I thought about all the products that people might spend money on in a slow economy and came up with food, entertainment, electronic technology, and energy. Food production or food sales weren’t options for us – we had no experience as farmers, and didn’t happen to own any farmland anyway; we didn’t have the cash reserves to cover the overhead of running a grocery store; and entertainment was definitely out, because neither of us could sing or dance. We were just as qualified technologically as we were talented entertainers. Not.
One thing in my life’s experiences that I haven’t yet mentioned is that I was a part-time volunteer environmental and community activist for many years when we lived in the Keys. I always had dreamed of having a job that would help save the planet, rather than contribute to its decline. I had had an interest in solar energy since 1973, when I wrote a research paper on the topic in college. “So, what about solar energy?” I wondered. “Is it time now? Hmmm….this could be very interesting!”
After conducting research for several months, calling solar energy professionals, speaking with suppliers and manufacturers, and discussing requirements with industry regulators, I discovered that we could do it! Jim and I took a course in solar energy, Jim went to solar installation school, we set up our business, and now we are solar pros! We now specialize in the sales, installation, and service of solar hot water systems for homes and businesses in southern Vermont. We chose solar hot water heating because it provides the best return on the consumer’s green dollar. We officially started our business in the summer of 2008, and by the end of the year, we were almost in the black. The demand for green energy is out there, it’s just a matter of whether or not our potential customers still have jobs or enough money left to invest in green improvements.
By this point in our lives, we had hoped to be on the verge of retirement, but if we’re lucky and we stay healthy, we’ll be working for many more years. We are down to our last little bit of savings, but we are very optimistic because we know that we have lost only money. It’s not cancer. We hope that our solar business will do well this summer, and we’ll work hard to make it successful.
Karen Lee
Originally written June, 2008.
Update, April, 2011 --
Our solar business is doing well, we are making a small profit, but we have spent the last of our savings. We lost all of our investment properties, including one hundred percent of our investment in each one. As an example, our very nice home in Sebring, Florida, (we lived there after we sold our Keys home as our primary residence) just appraised for $105,000. We paid $260,000 for it in 2005, and put another $40,000 cash into the house in hard improvements. That's a 65% drop in value. It's only money, right??? Arghhh...
June, 2008
Following is a story about foresight, hindsight, financial gain, financial loss, hope, perseverance, and optimism. The message is…We all need to pick ourselves up, change our lives, and get to work!
Most of my adult life, I was a mortgage industry professional. In that 30 year career, I held almost every position available in the mortgage field, from receptionist to senior lending officer for a small bank. From 1994 until 2005 my husband Jim and I owned and operated a small, successful mortgage brokerage business in the Florida Keys. No, we never participated in subprime lending. I was brought up in a time when loans were granted to qualified individuals, in loan amounts relative to each applicant’s ability to afford the proposed housing payment. Call me old fashioned. During the days of big bucks being made by others in the mortgage business who were playing fast and loose with underwriting guidelines, Jim and I chose to stay with our conservative business approach. We were just regular workin’ stiffs, plugging away, originating “vanilla” loan product. We missed opportunities to make lots of money, but we slept well at night.
We were fortunate to have bought a modest waterfront home in 1989 in Islamorada, and during our years of living and working in paradise in the Florida Keys, we made substantial improvements to that home. In 2005, as everyone knows, the real estate market was booming, especially for waterfront properties. Jim and I decided to sell our home and use the proceeds from the sale to take advantage of the knowledge we had gained from our 30 year experience in real estate finance and become real estate investors. We were thrilled with the prospect of beginning a new career, and felt proud (a little smug, actually) to have cashed out before the mortgage market crashed. There was actually a brief point in time when our net worth exceeded a million dollars! We were very impressed with ourselves. In the summer of 2005, Jim and I would giggle together occasionally and say it was our goal to make “Ten in Ten.” That is -- ten million dollars in ten years. We were delusional, of course, and more than a little silly with a heavy dose of good ol' American greed.
I was anxious to invest our chunk of change right away…to ”put it in the dirt!” I thought, “Everyone knows that real estate, especially real estate in Florida, is the most sound investment of all!” In 2005, there was a wide spread sense of near panic among real estate purchasers to buy properties as soon as possible, before the prices got further away from us. Our plan was sound (we thought), tried and true – we would buy fixer-upper homes in desirable neighborhoods, renovate them, rent them, and sell them for profits in a few years. We anticipated that the real estate market might soften somewhat, but our plan included putting down at least 30 percent on each house, allowing for minimum mortgage payments that could easily be covered by rental income, even in a softer real estate market. (The ironic thing is that if we had highly-leveraged our purchases with sub-prime mortgages -- not that we ever would have! -- we wouldn’t have lost so much cash! But, I’m old fashioned, remember?) So, we bought a few investment properties in Florida and a summer home in Vermont. We were so confident in our investment acumen that we even loaned two hundred thousand dollars to our daughter so that she and her husband could purchase a business in Palm Beach county. We were on our way to becoming successful in our new careers as semi-retired investors!
Of course, as it turned out, our plan could hardly have been worse. We invested almost all of our cash, keeping little in reserve. In addition to the 30 percent (plus closing costs) we put down, we invested several thousand dollars in improvements and upgrades on each property. When the real estate market flattened in 2006, we weren’t worried -- we had a good plan. As it always had before, the market would bounce back, and our tenants were paying their rents. In 2007, things got slower, people starting talking about a long term real estate recession. Florida led the country in mortgage delinquencies, builders had overbuilt, speculators had overspeculated, Florida’s booming real estate market was bust! The ripple effect through the economy was pervasive. Businesses failed, including our daughter’s. She and her husband and thousands of people in Florida lost their jobs, especially those living in resort and retirement communities. People were unable to pay their rents. They were unable to pay their rents to us. Oops.
Toward the end of 2007, we were no longer living in denial that our real estate investment strategy was going to work. We were no longer millionaires. Ten in ten now meant ten dollars in ten years. Jim and I had already put most of our houses on the market for sale, offering them for slightly less than we had invested in them. We were ready and willing to take our hits and get on with our lives, but we didn’t yet understand that getting on with it wouldn’t be very easy. We couldn’t sell any of our houses, at any price! There was no market at all! Each of us began looking for jobs and soon discovered that we weren’t qualified for any professional employment opportunities that were available. Our so-called skills were in businesses that were out of business – mortgages and real estate. It was a humbling realization to learn that, in our advanced middle age we were unemployable!
We were not ready to lie down and die. We needed to make money. We needed to go to work. Whining and crying about our losses wasn’t going to do us any good. “Okay,” I thought, “Since we aren’t qualified to go to work for anyone else, then obviously, we should run our own business, but what should we do?” Planning ahead for self employment opportunities in a recession or depression is interesting. I thought about all the products that people might spend money on in a slow economy and came up with food, entertainment, electronic technology, and energy. Food production or food sales weren’t options for us – we had no experience as farmers, and didn’t happen to own any farmland anyway; we didn’t have the cash reserves to cover the overhead of running a grocery store; and entertainment was definitely out, because neither of us could sing or dance. We were just as qualified technologically as we were talented entertainers. Not.
One thing in my life’s experiences that I haven’t yet mentioned is that I was a part-time volunteer environmental and community activist for many years when we lived in the Keys. I always had dreamed of having a job that would help save the planet, rather than contribute to its decline. I had had an interest in solar energy since 1973, when I wrote a research paper on the topic in college. “So, what about solar energy?” I wondered. “Is it time now? Hmmm….this could be very interesting!”
After conducting research for several months, calling solar energy professionals, speaking with suppliers and manufacturers, and discussing requirements with industry regulators, I discovered that we could do it! Jim and I took a course in solar energy, Jim went to solar installation school, we set up our business, and now we are solar pros! We now specialize in the sales, installation, and service of solar hot water systems for homes and businesses in southern Vermont. We chose solar hot water heating because it provides the best return on the consumer’s green dollar. We officially started our business in the summer of 2008, and by the end of the year, we were almost in the black. The demand for green energy is out there, it’s just a matter of whether or not our potential customers still have jobs or enough money left to invest in green improvements.
By this point in our lives, we had hoped to be on the verge of retirement, but if we’re lucky and we stay healthy, we’ll be working for many more years. We are down to our last little bit of savings, but we are very optimistic because we know that we have lost only money. It’s not cancer. We hope that our solar business will do well this summer, and we’ll work hard to make it successful.
Karen Lee
Originally written June, 2008.
Update, April, 2011 --
Our solar business is doing well, we are making a small profit, but we have spent the last of our savings. We lost all of our investment properties, including one hundred percent of our investment in each one. As an example, our very nice home in Sebring, Florida, (we lived there after we sold our Keys home as our primary residence) just appraised for $105,000. We paid $260,000 for it in 2005, and put another $40,000 cash into the house in hard improvements. That's a 65% drop in value. It's only money, right??? Arghhh...
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