1983 27 Years later…
It’s been so long since I’ve written a blog… “It feels like the first time…Feels like the very first time…” Thank you Mick Jones of Foreigner for the inspiration.
My recently departed computer uttered its last gasp in late April and then in May real life interrupted the process of replacing it.
I find it interesting that the stars have aligned so that I am writing today, pretty close to the time frame of the events I was describing at the end of the most recent blog. I was writing about that transition from our wedding and moving to Colorado with the five children, dog and cat, and not having a place to move into.
We arrived in Denver on June 21, 1983, settling into two rooms at the Stapleton Plaza Hotel. The facility wasn’t advertised as pet friendly. However, the staff chose to look the other way for the sake of our homeless family. I know homelessness is a serious matter and we thought it no less so at the time.
We learned from the sellers that the listing agent for the property we were purchasing had told them not to prepare for their move because we wouldn’t be able to close on the transaction. We had every intention of doing so and were awaiting the final approval on our loan from the VA. I think I’ve mentioned that we were thrilled to get the interest rate of 12.75% too. Does that seem unfathomable to you?
The moving van left Virginia the day before we did and we knew it would be in Denver within a few days. What to do? Sometime during the week we were told that we would close on the property on Thursday, June 30th. Okay, June 21st to June 30th…with a truck load of furniture arriving around June 25th. You can do the math as well as I, and it will still come up with 6 days difference. In the event you’ve never moved, do not expect a moving van to sit at the curb for 6 days, or 6 hours for that matter, while the house is being vacated.
We struck a deal with the sellers, in a manner of speaking. The moved everything out of their basement and into the garage. We had all of our belongings moved into the basement until the closing. That is, everything except Louisa’s upright piano. Even with the top off and the wheels removed, it was too tall for the stairway to the basement. It remained on the back patio.
So when I say that I understand the dynamics of moving with children, please take it to heart.
Based on what the sellers told us, the listing agent caused a lot of anxiety and inconvenience to both parties. Someone I worked with suggested that I write to the real estate commission. I did. I did not hear from them. I later learned that he’d taken a sabbatical, returning to real estate a few years later. I believe he has since retired.
There is always the possibility that buyers will not have the financing approved. In today’s real estate environment lines of communication can be established that will provide real time answers about the strength of the buyer’s ability to purchase. Perhaps they were not as available in 1983, particularly given the established caveat emptor way of doing business at that time.
A Realtor friend recently told me, after looking at our property on public records, that our house was a steal for $128,000. Of course his frame of reference was the current market value of our house; roughly 4 times the 1983 purchase price. We’re staying anyway. We moved in July 1, 1983. We have nested.
