I’ve been very lucky in life because I’ve lived in houses owned either my family or my husband and I. If I began life as a renter, knowing I would be renting all my life I would probably think differently, but I’ve only lived in rentals for 4 years of college and the first 2 years of marriage. Owning a house is all I really know.
My father who grew up in the Depression (no, not this one, the first one) was adamant about owning one’s home. He was one of 6 children and as the boy was tossed around from relative to relative depending on who could afford to feed a spare mouth. His "visits" to his Uncle Theodore were particularly brutal. Being Irish and a drunk (no ethnic slur intended, I only speak from my life experience), Theodore felt free to take all his inadequacies about his lot in life out on my father since he wasn’t one of his own kids. My father never said so that directly, but it was impossible not to see from the stories here and there. Amazingly my father never said a mean thing about the man other than he was very free with his belt and had a vicious temper. I know from his family history that the drinking was simply a part of life then…and later. But I think the beginnings of his life cemented in him the desire to own his own home. From this, obviously came my desire.
It still hurts to think that I will be renting the rest of my life. What an utter waste of money!
Labels: Rants and Ravings