Stranger Than Fiction


I try not to give in to fear, but it’s creeping up like the slimey little girl that lives in a water well.  I was in shock over the election, and my brain had to make a tectonic shift around the reality.  I could do nothing and, clearly, felt that fact.  Immigration, Women’s Rights, ISIS, the military.   I was just sad.

So there I was minding my misery with the uncertainty of our govenment, and Trump’s ability to ignore the basic tenets of civics, and a text came.

Text:  “Are you still interested?”

It was a text from a man deployed on active military duty in the U.S. Army, and he needed help with his house.

Everyone I knew in L.A. was feeling skewered by the election results, and I could see now what a sturdy Blue Bubble I lived in.  But here was someone I had never met, someone whose life might change instantly, to a much higher degree than most people I knew.  The first thing I asked is what it was like where he was at that moment.   I had a sense that he was trying to adjust to our new collective reality, and in spite of that, he was willing, to (and I quote,) “serve the new commander in chief.”


Text:  “You sent me an email about my house, are you still interested?”

Fifteen-months ago I was.

I looked up the address and recognized an old listing.  It was a FSBO (For Sale by Owner) on a landmark street with all the right parts: vintage details, large lot, studio workspace, river rock columns.  I remembered that the house was on a quiet block with lush lawns, and large sidewalks, and trees that cathedral over the street.  It was a classic, and a fixer.

My buyer back then was willing to work with a FSBO  even though these transactions are notoriously impossible to close and if they do, it’s usually a shit show.   The common thread in most FSBO transactions is that the owner does not understand how manditorily complicated (by law) sales are.  Apparently this old FSBO had been barbed before it left the gate.  The owner was overwhelmed, and feeling screwed – backed out.

Then came Trump.  It was really time to sell, and there were complications, etc.  Trump.  But it was time.  One minute I was isolating, and the next I was texting a stranger in the U.S. Army.  tumblr_m7q7nabmr81qlmscao1_1280

I hadn’t thought of this house since it left my radar fifteen months ago.  I hadn’t thought about this house even when a new client had described what she was looking for, and it was exactly the same thing.  My current clients wanted a solid, classic, house for an unrealistic price. And, she was optimistic about finding it.

The audacity of their hope warmed me.

Remember hope?   I assumed time in the field would educate this couple.

  • On a side note, and in the spirit of serendipity, the maximum price my own clients would be able to pay – was the exact price this officer wanted.  Their ceiling matched his bottom line.

I’m not sure what will happen, because at this point, nothing has.  But I would like to help him, that’s for sure, because it was the best I’d felt in days

2016-11-09t174448z_593688918_s1aeulwnzsaa_rtrmadp_3_usa-election-trumpIt was what I needed that night, to feel useful.  And so strange to have been moping one minute, and the next second be speaking to a soldier in the U.S. Army, and a complete stranger.   It gave me a glimpse into someone else’s life, which opened my own dark tunnel.  It gave me a surprise   perspective, and that was priceless.

Solutions always create this feeling like a slow landslide that meshes together and brings clarity.   Who knows….  We’ll see.  But somehow it gave me a hope.

Remember Hope ?

Time will educate us all.



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