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12 Years or $23,040

As of last September, I’ve lived at my current residence 13 years. That’s a long time, kind of. In the grand scheme of mortgages and lifespans, it’s a blip. Recently it occurred to me that at 13 years, 94 Fern Valley stands as the residence I’ve lived in the longest. That fact nearly broke my little brain.

Memories and nostalgia are a strong force, and as much as we like to think our memories are 100% fact, everything we’ve ever lived through is tainted by the human lens of the emotions tied to each experience. In my mind, during my childhood, we lived at 1215 Tara Dr. forever. It’s my childhood home, where I have countless memories, it’s where I learned to human. It’s the home that appears most often when I dream.

A storybook would romanticize that house as a warm blanket of a dwelling and probably even use the tacky wood-grain paneling to paint a picturesque 90′s upbringing. I’m not here to shit on how I was raised or even that house specifically. I more-so want to digest a more realistic understanding of my childhood home, so I can, for lack of a better term, be an adult about it.

In 2023, my childhood home is considered to be in a “very” bad part of town, South Jackson. As part of Jackson’s 6th Ward, I was zoned for Key Elementary, Peeples Middle, and Wingfield High. Through the APAC program was able to attend Murrah High School in North Jackson, but for the most part, my early formative years were spent in South Jackson, a delightfully mixed, middle class, neighborhood, full of working-class Jacksonians.

If I recall correctly, we didn’t overly worry about crime. I was able to walk back and forth to my cousin’s and grandparent’s house, down the street, without fear or bother. For the most part, I was free to roam as far as my bike would take me. My artificial boundaries being McDowell Rd and Woody Dr.

I lived at 1215 Tara for approximately 12.5 years. We moved into the house just before my younger brother Ben was born in the Summer of 1989, and I moved out in early 2002 as I was entering my deliberately-independent college years. To a child, 12.5 years is FOREVER. I have so many tangible memories of the house, but so many of the fine details are lost to time.

I don’t remember the color of the carpet, or the exact arraignment of the dining room, but I do remember the bathroom tile, the steps into the backyard, the unique sliding door to the kid’s shower, and the weird wood-post adorned “ledge” just inside the front door. All of these are deeply engrained in my psyche. “Hey, grab my keys, they’re on the ledge.” holds a surprising amount of space in my mind.

Recently I thought, “I wonder what’s up with my childhood home.” So Ariel and I took a trip to South Jackson to investigate. What we found was an abandoned house for sale, much like many of the houses in the neighborhood. Not a surprising revelation, but sad none the less. We could have probably gotten/broken-in, if we really wanted to, but I don’t think my heart was ready for an adventure of that nature.

Instead, I dropped into the nightmare machine that is the internet to try and figure out what’s happening with 1215 Tara Dr. What I found and the emotions that came with it, are hard to put into words. But here I am, telling this story on a platform powered by words...like a fool.

Via the online property tracking sites, my childhood home is worth about $23,040. That’s it, the cost of the most import place in the world for 12 of the most influential years of my life is worth as much as a Honda Civic. I don’t know why, but when I read that, my heart was broken.

I don’t know if it was the betrayal of the American Dream or the underlying knowledge that my parents paid a mortgage on the property for about 15 years and likely paid much more than $23,040 only to not own the house. Putting a dollar amount on that house deflated a part of me that I didn’t know existed.

I'm not trying to make this a referendum on so called “white flight”, and I'm not even trying to spin a narrative about Jackson, MS. This is purely a conversation with myself about value and what it means to be successful. In reality, my parents could have moved us out of South Jackson in 1989 when we moved to 1215 Tara, however both Ben and I would have missed out on living so close to so many loved ones. Sure, we would have found a life wherever we ended up, but there's a real discussion to be had about what we’re supposed to hold dear.

I know many people that are comfortable distancing themselves from their immediate family and consequently only seeing them on holidays or at funerals. From what I understand that’s a perfectly fine existence, but it’s not one I’ve ever experienced. Was that 15 or so years “worth it” for my parents? They didn't know at the time, but they were sacrificing more financial freedom in their later years by keeping us in a house that would ultimately lose its value. *Insert kitschy hindsight quote here*

I feel like looking at this on a monetary level is too clinical and ultimately removes the human aspect of homeownership. That house was home, and during my childhood years it felt like it would be that way forever. My parents have been at their current house for over 15 years now and as comfortable as I am in it, it's never going to feel like home.

As a capitalist country we're taught that investment is a good thing and that hard work leads to success. We have freedoms and comforts that other countries can only dream about. Yet, it’s possible to follow all the rules, work hard, put your money where you're supposed to, and still come out the other side with nothing to show for it, but a small down payment on a more cumbersome debt.

Seeing the tiny current value of that house combined with my inherent (yet shrinking) cynical nature, leaves me feeling like my family has been a cog in a system designed to exploit anyone willing to put money into it. The more realistic way to see it, is that all investment is inherently risky and my family was just unlucky. Sure, but why do we believe in a system so wholeheartedly when ultimately success is so dependent on luck?

I'm getting off base, which is easy to do, especially as a homeowner. Did I choose the right house, neighborhood, city? My 13 years of investment in 94 Fern Valley continues to seem smart, but when will our trusted system pull the rug out from beneath me? More importantly, how do I get ahead of it if it does, or does it even matter? My children have built a life here, they're safe here, 25 years from now I want them to be able to return here, if needed. I want them to use my hard work to benefit their children and grandchildren. Those are great sentiments, but what societal pitfall Is cold-heartedly waiting to ruin that possibility?

Capitalism has conditioned us to believe that an investment without appreciation is a failure. Is it though? I’d argue that our collective humanity is the only thing that matters when romanticizing youth. “Things were better when I was a kid,” “Kids today are ruined by smartphones,” or “Remember when children actually played outside?” All of these quotes sound like profound observations of the current state of the world, but they’re actually just nostalgia tugging at a sub-conscience longing for formative years.

If we weren’t so obsessed with prices, and unemployment, and inflation and longing for a “better time.” It would be much easier to look at problems objectively and create solutions to fix them. Instead we romanticize situations that were never ideal in the first place, simply because they’re tied to memories that are proven to be faint, at best. Hell, I don’t even know if this is the forum for the crippling bitch session tied to that idea.

There I go, getting off-track again. Back on topic: You know, inflation just occurred to me. Doing a quick Google search for inflation rates since 1989, revealed that $23,040, 2023 dollars is really around $9,834 1989 dollars. I don’t know what to do with this information, and I don't know why I do this to myself, but it seems important to this discussion. I think the only healthy way the digest everything here is to lean on the ethereal nature of memories and the power they have to neutralize tangible loss. I just made that up, so come with me now.

When an elderly person dies we mourn the individual, but we use our memories to give their life and our relationship with them meaning. It's a uniquely human trait to find meaning in the intangible and ultimately that's what I have to do here. No one can take away my experiences from that house and no dollar amount can erase the importance of South Jackson to my core upbringing. I can't imagine that anyone whose childhood home APPRECIATED in value, is having feelings of dread. So why should I? 1215 Tara gave Ben and I it’s best, and regardless of what the future holds, 94 Fern Valley will give MY children it's best.

The memories we create here will transcend anything that ultimately happens to this building. I think I'm finally done. I don't know if I’ve made a coherent point, or if I can even follow up on the feelings I’ve put out there. Either way, it’s something I 110% needed to get off of my mind. Here's to hoping Lucas, Maddie, and Fox don't have to have the same conversation with themselves. It's uncomfortable, it's existential, and it bumps into the all important “meaning of life” question, and that will shake you to your core.

#Jackson Mississippi #south jackson #property value #nostalgia #meaning of life #investment

"If you asked me where I wanted to live right now, I would say in your heart.."

Cause you live in mine and they aren't that far apart - eUë

Is Mayor Bill de Blasio’s Administration Targeting Black, Latino Communities for Foreclosure?

New York Mayor Bill de Blasio’s administration has taken steps to foreclose on over 400 homes in Black and Latino communities under a controversial policy allowing the city to take away properties, along with years’ worth of equity, from homeowners.

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#Bill De Blasio #Black Community #Department of Housing Preservation and Development #Latino Community #New York #Property Value

Back in October, the International Monetary Fund and World Bank had their annual meeting in Indonesia, where Indonesian President Joko Widodo, told the plenary session: “With all the problems that the global economy currently faces, it’s appropriate to say that winter is coming.” Christine Lagarde pointed out that global debt (public and private) had increased by sixty percent since 2007 and now equalled $182 trillion. Whilst almost no one predicted the financial crash of 2008 there is widespread debate about another crash perhaps even worse. About once a decade a financial crisis occurs and since 2008 central banks have encouraged a big increase in share prices and property value by cutting interest rates and generating vast amounts of new money called quantitative easing.

Ken Livingstone, ''Winter is coming’: Subservience to bankers & failure to reform is leading us into another crash', RT