Theory

We've been working hard on an apartment. We've got a woman who wants to rent it. She is elderly, with bad knees, and the first floor apartment appeals to her.

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When I moved back to Pennsylvania to start over again, a single mom with three children, working at a local factory trying to make ends meet, I was pretty ashamed. I'd come from a pretty comfortable life in Michigan, with a nice home, and all the trappings of a successful middle class life. I moved my children into a ramshackle rental. It was horrible, and drafty, cold in the winter, stifling hot in the summer. Dylan's bedroom was in the attic, and he could not stand upright in part of it. I was desperately ashamed that I could not provide better for them, but when your ex has been sent to prison, there is no child support. It was up to me, and I did the best that I could. But I remember how badly I felt about that house, that rotten, decaying house with the old carpeting. I remember the landlord, a German woman, who always acted as if I were going to stiff her on the rent, even though I never had, and it would not have entered my mind to. Although I was the same person that I had been in Michigan, when I was the wife of a Dow white collar, I was treated quite differently as a single mother of three children working at the local plastics plant as a janitor. I've never forgotten the shame that goes along with that. I've never forgotten what it is like to have no choice.

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We've been told, over and over again, that we're making a big mistake with this apartment. We are 'fixing it up too nicely'. As in, people, awful as they are will just 'trash it'. It always pisses me off a little when I hear it. I could not bear to take money from someone to live in a home I wouldn't live in myself. I want it to be nice for whoever gets it. We're putting in washer and dryer. We are paying attention to the details, period lighting, french doors in the bedroom. New carpeting. New bathroom. New tile. Wallpaper, gleaming woodwork, new ceilings, paint, new furnace, air conditioning. A garage with automatic doors.

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I think of the elderly lady who wants to rent the apartment so badly that she stops by regularly to see our progress. We've gotten to know her as she checks up on us, and looks around, and visits with us. She's quiet, with a stammer. She's neat (her car is spotless, and friends tell me that when a prospective tenant comes, you should walk them out to their car. If the car is filled with old food containers and other debris, this is always a bad sign). She's also anxious. I recognize the look in her eyes. She's alone too. Her husband left long ago. She doesn't have a lot of money, but she's careful. She has a good heart. She's disabled, but she volunteers at the senior center. She needs a new place to live by the end of October. She's desperate.

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I think this: If you are a person inclined to take advantage of other people's desperate times, you're going to find desperate people taking advantage of you at the first opportunity. Nancy is telling us how she wants the apartment, and we are building it to suit. I believe in the end, our consideration will be repaid, tenfold. It's just a theory. I'll let you know how it works out.