Last Friday, I had lunch with an amazing group of women at my girls old, and soon to be Molly's new, preschool. The women who teach there are all mothers. They have young, and grown children. There ages vary. Some of them are battling cancer. One lost a husband too soon, and has a child, and a future that seems so far from what she planned. These women all work together, and I have known some of them for years. They make it seem like you are walking into someones kitchen, instead of a workplace. Each time I am there, I am made to feel so welcome, and warm, and loved. They are a beautiful bunch of girls.
I started talking to some of them, as we sat around small preschool tables, on tiny chairs, eating together. I started telling them about my own family's share of problems, which really are not problems at all, compared to most. At the mere mention of finances coming up short, and my home being in foreclosure, it was as if there was permission in the room to share about this hush hush subject. Everyone had a story. One friend told me that her husband had not worked in three months. Another told me they were months behind in their mortgage. Still another feared losing her home.
Each woman effected by this time we are living in. Each woman representing a family she is a member of, trying to keep them all afloat. I left that lunch feeling both comforted and alarmed. I kept thinking over and over again as I drove home, that this "thing" that is happening, is bigger than me. It is bigger than my family. I am but one, of far too many. It made me angry. It made me worried about friends, and families, and people I don't even know. It made me feel sad for those suffering through this, and too ashamed to talk about it.
I can't stop talking about it. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't help but feel like people's hard times are causing a ripple effect in their lives, that they may very well be unable to ever recover from. I think that stinks. Actually, I think it sucks.
I don't have an answer, or even a suggestion on how to help anyone. I just know that I see too many empty houses. Too many families on public assistance. Too much worry. Too much fear. I read something yesterday. It was from the New York Times, from Christmas Day. It was discussing how the HAMP program (Homes Affordable Modification Program) laid out by the Treasury, has been largely ineffective. It states "As of mid-December HAMP has processed almost 520,000 permanent loan modifications. The panel estimated that by the time the program is finished, it will have prevented only 700,000 foreclosures over all-quite a contrast to the three to four million modifications that the Treasury anticipated when it rolled out it's plan. Up to 13 million foreclosures are expected to have occurred by 2012, the panel said".
13 million. That is a lot of people. That is a lot of families. I am no expert, but I bet all those people will cost tax payers way more money post- foreclosure, that maybe if they had gotten a wee bit of a break pre- foreclosure.
But who am I? A mother, seeing far too many empty houses. Reading about far too many families receiving public assistance. Having far too many conversations with hard working people, getting jerked around by their mortgage companies, and being powerless to stop it. Who am I? After all...I am in the middle of losing my home.
But you see, this "thing" here...it's bigger than me. It's bigger than most.
I started talking to some of them, as we sat around small preschool tables, on tiny chairs, eating together. I started telling them about my own family's share of problems, which really are not problems at all, compared to most. At the mere mention of finances coming up short, and my home being in foreclosure, it was as if there was permission in the room to share about this hush hush subject. Everyone had a story. One friend told me that her husband had not worked in three months. Another told me they were months behind in their mortgage. Still another feared losing her home.
Each woman effected by this time we are living in. Each woman representing a family she is a member of, trying to keep them all afloat. I left that lunch feeling both comforted and alarmed. I kept thinking over and over again as I drove home, that this "thing" that is happening, is bigger than me. It is bigger than my family. I am but one, of far too many. It made me angry. It made me worried about friends, and families, and people I don't even know. It made me feel sad for those suffering through this, and too ashamed to talk about it.
I can't stop talking about it. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't help but feel like people's hard times are causing a ripple effect in their lives, that they may very well be unable to ever recover from. I think that stinks. Actually, I think it sucks.
I don't have an answer, or even a suggestion on how to help anyone. I just know that I see too many empty houses. Too many families on public assistance. Too much worry. Too much fear. I read something yesterday. It was from the New York Times, from Christmas Day. It was discussing how the HAMP program (Homes Affordable Modification Program) laid out by the Treasury, has been largely ineffective. It states "As of mid-December HAMP has processed almost 520,000 permanent loan modifications. The panel estimated that by the time the program is finished, it will have prevented only 700,000 foreclosures over all-quite a contrast to the three to four million modifications that the Treasury anticipated when it rolled out it's plan. Up to 13 million foreclosures are expected to have occurred by 2012, the panel said".
13 million. That is a lot of people. That is a lot of families. I am no expert, but I bet all those people will cost tax payers way more money post- foreclosure, that maybe if they had gotten a wee bit of a break pre- foreclosure.
But who am I? A mother, seeing far too many empty houses. Reading about far too many families receiving public assistance. Having far too many conversations with hard working people, getting jerked around by their mortgage companies, and being powerless to stop it. Who am I? After all...I am in the middle of losing my home.
But you see, this "thing" here...it's bigger than me. It's bigger than most.
There are alot of us that are simply sick and tired of working our butts off to just barely get by.
ReplyDeleteSo true. And watching everything, from food, gas, utilities, to healthcare costs go up, while we watch our paychecks remain the same, or decrease.
ReplyDeleteErin you CAN fight against Citimortgage. First, they are under investigation, big time (check out their latest SEC filings). Second, have you sent them a Qualified Written Request? How about an estoppel letter? Are they the holder of your note and mortgage, or your "servicer"? Where is your note? What trust was it securitized in? When? Was the note and mortgage bifurcated? Was the note and mortgage physically transferred in accordance with the PSA? What payments have been paid under TARP? How many times has your note been sold (is your note in two or more trusts)? How about your mortgage? Is MERS involved? How about fraudulent misapplication of your payments? Are you a victim of robo-signing? How about the law firm representing Citi? Is there an agency relatonship with the actual owners of your note? How about fee splitting? Are they a foreclosure mill and are they under investigaton? We are making great headway nationwide (unfortunately, PA is lagging far behind in recognizing the fraud). Besides being reported late to the credit bureaus, has you credit received a hit because of your request for a modification? Most of the info you need to battle this lack of modification can be googled.
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