Neutrality and dispassionate are the modes I maintain as I
deliver letters to mortgagees behind on their payments for the agency that pays
me to do so. Occasionally, like this morning, I return to my car and tablet and
seethe with anger.
Approaching the house, the doorbell button is gone, a clue
that this might be an awkward call. Knock on the door and hear a dog barking
inside. Wait, second knock and someone comes to the door. The door opens a
crack and I ask, “Mr. XXXX?”
The door opens wider and I see a teen boy, maybe 16, and he
“He doesn’t live here. He hasn’t for a month. He has a
The young man’s shame and embarrassment was obvious. I
concluded my business by giving him the envelope to forward and departed.
What kind of shithead coward puts his children in that
position? Yeah, rhetorical question.
If I did only one thing right in raising my sons, it is you
don’t hit women. Both of the younger ones have been in abusive relationships.
Both were hit by the women in their lives. Both walked away instead of
retaliating. The same happened in my only marriage.
The money spent on lawyers would have made a good college
fund start. My youngest got full custody and later the birth mother lost all
parental rights. To see how those children have grown and thrived in a loving,
but disciplined, home makes it all worthwhile.
Middle son was married five years. Thankfully, no children.
That house I visited will probably end up in foreclosure.
The signs of property neglect are plain. Poverty and uncertainty will be the
fate of the children.
Makes me sad and angry.