CHAPTER 76 Lock-Out Day #3

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copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.

Today was just another Lock-Out day for us. We should be used to it. Bring on the real estate agent, the locksmith, and the Sheriff's Deputy. Let's do this. Take 3.

I was awake early so I could get all my therapy done before we had to leave the house. It was a dismal day. I wanted to be sure to grab the microwave so I could continue to do the hot compress on my eye, in the hopes we'd wind up in someplace with electricity.

When I heard my Parents downstairs I went down to give my Dad Bob Proctor's book "You Were Born Rich". Dad was distracted but he put the book in his backpack.

The locksmith, Burt, and the Sheriff's Deputy were the first to show up for the Lock-Out. It was the same locksmith from the previous Lock-Out at the Glass House and Cabin but thank the Heavens we had a different Deputy. Glory be!

The Deputy was a really nice guy. He had a daughter he was supporting in college. He was a far cry from the previous Deputy we'd had on the Glass House and Cabin. This Deputy was compassionate, respectful, and kind. It was a blessing to have him be the one sent to us on this horrid day, of all days. I think the Big Guy had a hand in picking him. I was grateful.

While we were all waiting for Nathan, the real estate agent, to arrive, I started talking to the Deputy.

"My Mom came up with an idea that the U.S. Government should have just given all the money directly to the people to pay off their mortgages, instead of it going to the Banks and expecting the Banks to filter the money down. Mom's idea was that if the money had flowed down to the people, with stipulations and restrictions on how the money was spent, then it could go from the people up to the money-grubbing Banks," I said.

The Deputy nodded in agreement.

"That's a great idea," the Deputy said.

The U.S. Government had been completely amiss in thinking if they gave the Banks the money, it would trickle down to the people who needed financial assistance. Boy oh boy, did that turn out to be a joke! It was also a joke that the U.S. Government thought the Banks would be accountable for the huge piles of money they were given.

Why should they feel accountable?

After all, it wasn't their money, was it?

The Deputy said, "Someone figured out how the money would have broken down if it was given directly to the people. Guess how much money every single person [in the U.S.] would have gotten?"

"I have no idea," I said in an intrigued voice.

"One million dollars."

I didn't know if the amount was accurate or not. But one thing is for sure, had the money gone to the people to stop their homes going into foreclosure, would have had a tremendous impact on the economy. And dare I say, more so than giving the money to the Banks.

"Wow. That would have helped out a lot of people," I said.

"Absolutely. Instead of the money going towards paying bank executive's bonuses," the Deputy stated with a hint of disgust in his voice.

Nathan arrived. He was late. He looked overworked and overstressed, which was typical given his workload and the job he had to do. I felt for the guy. It's not easy to be the one who is on the ground, putting people out of their homes. It wasn't Nathan's fault either that people were being forced out of their homes. But I bet a lot of people took their frustrations out on him.

Burt, the locksmith, was amused. Nathan had called him three times to make sure Burt would be there on time. And Burt had been on time while Nathan had not. Now that Nathan was here, the Lock-Out could begin.

Mom was depressed. Her shoulders were slumped over, and her face was hung in a frozen frown. She looked awful.

"I'm really sorry about this folks," the Sheriff's Deputy said.

He walked by Mom and I, as we stood waiting by the car, to officially post the Eviction notice on the front door and clear the house.

"Well, we still have our health," I said to him.

It was a stupid thing to say but I wanted to say something. I wanted to have some response to what was happening to us so we didn't look like kicked dogs that we were. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for us. People feeling sorry for us, didn't change anything. And it wouldn't stop what was happening.

Mom was devastated. She looked like the war was over and we'd lost everything we owned. I think the Deputy's comment had really been directed at Mom. I think he wanted to say something to help her, since he could see how upset she was.

The Deputy did his official walk through of the Main House, to ensure there was no one else in the house. They had to be sure before they posted the Eviction. It was procedure. Dad had told him to be careful of not letting Mom's two kitties out.

Since we had no idea where we were going, Mom's cats had to be left at the Main House. We didn't have much choice. She'd made sure they had enough food and water for a day. The home was perfectly safe for them. There was no way to get out, and they'd probably do a fine job of keeping the vermin population in control. But I could tell it was another crack in her heart to leave them behind.

Once the Deputy had finished walking through the house, he went back to his car to do some paperwork, and check in with the Sheriff's Office Operations. Then he was on his way to the next Lock-Out on his schedule. He told us the Sheriff's Division that handled the Evictions were doing a lot more of them, five or more Evictions a week now. It was hard times for a lot of good people.

The entire country had turned into a sad state of affairs. It was sad for the people losing their homes and sad for the people who had to help the Banks take the homes. The only people it wasn't sad for, was the Banks.

Why?

Well, let's see, because they got their money. They didn't have to be on the ground to see or deal with the devastation. And frankly they couldn't be more removed from all the carnage. They were safe in their little lives, in their safe homes, complete with their perks and bonuses.


"A banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining and wants it back the minute it begins to rain."

Mark Twain

American Author

(1835-1910)


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