My Life in Argentina and Beyond

Tuesday, November 3, 2009: I know I have to leave Williamsburgh. I know my time there is just about done. Because of the stress it is causing me, I have promised myself never ever to be in such a situation again. I would rather die first. Felling homeless is the worst!

Friday, October 16, 2009:
Thursday: 5:30 P.M.
I rushed to the soup kitchen line, but there were only a few men waiting. Most were against the wall of the church on 51st. Street. The rain came down and down. I was already all wet from walking all over Manhattan.
Usually when the weather is bad, we get fed early, but this time something must have happened to delayed them. I placed myself in the line reserved for the ladies. The first lady, I thought and I smiled.
A volunteer came out and told us there’d be no food, to come back tomorrow. When he saw the look of consternation on my face, he laughed. No! I can in the rain for this? I thought. Got all wet for this?
A few minutes later, the first Coalition for the Homeless truck arrived. More waiting for the truck to be opened so that the heavy containers could be carried to the cafeteria. James, the supervisor, opened the truck and some of the men carried the stuff inside. More ladies joined the line and he told us to wait inside. I could see that we'd get a lot of food—the volunteers were setting the tables and there was plenty of everything—salads, sandwiches, bread.
The men who had helped carry the food got their share and we, the women, went to get our portion.

Friday, August 28, 2009: The soft glow of the yellow light was on the kitchen table. The woman watching TV just before she had to leave the house she had been cleaning all afternoon. This is a house, she thought to herself. It looks, feels and is a real house. Why can't I have something like this again? And then, she remembered why: the mortgage fraud/foreclosure experience in GA took away my savings and the gumption I used to have. How can I fight and keep fighting when everything is a great big NO? How can I possibly get anywhere when there is that obstacle, this other obstacle to overcome? Reluctantly, the woman took the heavy bags in her hand and closed the door. She walked with sadness in her heart to the subway stop. One more coming, one more going back. Always going back. I want to be used to these small, tiny trips back and forth, but I am not, she thought. I will never get used to them.

Saturday, August 8, 2009: She was standing on the corner of Broadway and Havemeyer in Williamsburgh, Brooklyn--right by the bus terminal. The woman had her light hair up in a knot. She was wiping her face and neck with a small white cloth. She was wearing two or three black garbage bags, the kind the sanitation dept. uses. I called 311, but the screeching noise of the nearby subway made it difficult for me to talk to the person on the other end. Can anyone do something for her? I asked.

I walked by the Waldorf Astoria Hotel on Park Avenue late yesterday afternoon and saw lots of cops and people near it. The cops were talking to passers by and the people were holding up their cell phones to take pictures. President Obama has come to town to give a speech to the NAAPC at the Hilton. I had a strange sort of thought: Wouldn’t it be great if he could stand in line with me and the other people at the soup kitchen on 51st. between Park and Lexington? He could share one of our white plastic bag meals and talk to us, listen to our stories. Maybe Mayor Bloomberg could join him and give him a tour of the church. The St. Bart’s soup kitchen is only a block away from the Waldorf. I know the NAAPC is important, but when will our turn to be seen come? We are sometimes paid a little bit of attention, but not much. Many of us have been homeless; some are still homeless, pushing carts all over town with large plastic bags full of Pepsi and Coca Cola bottles to trade for a few dollars. Even if you have been without a home for a short period of time, it’s still a bad and horrible thing to go through. The experience leaves a mark that, in many cases, cannot be erased, even if you later are lucky enough to get back on your feet.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009: It is very sad to know that the foreclosure mess has no end in sight. In spite of President Obama's sincere efforts and practical help, people are still losing their homes. i know only too well how devastating that is. I know only too well how bad that makes a person feel. Fear, helplessness, shock, anger and disbelief are some of the feelings that a person experiences when the worst case scenario is about to happen.

Letter To OBama

President Barack Obama

The White House

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 20500

Dear President Obama,

I am writing to tell you my subprime mortgage story. In July 2002 I moved to Atlanta, GA. There I bought a condo for $170,000. I was offered two loans: one for $136,000 at 9.75% and the other for $136,000 at 13%. I should have been suspicious at these high interest rates, but I trusted the realtor, and loan officer she worked with. At this time my credit score was around 754 and I had no credit card debt . A few days before closing, the realtor informed me that the loan officer had paid $300 to somebody to write the mortgage company & tell them that I had my own publishing company and that I made $120,000 a year. I was shocked at this lie, but I thought I had no choice but to go ahead with the closing. I honestly believed it was too late to turn back. After the July 26, 2002 closing, I contacted the seller’s real estate company. I wanted to sell the place. They told me that I could get $150,000 for it at most. $20,000 less than I had paid! The appraisal had been for $188,000. I tried refinancing, but because there was a penalty of $5,000 if I sold or refinance less than 2 years after the purchase of the condo, all the lenders turned me down. I decided I would rent it out. The realtor had told me that I could rent it for around $1,600 a month on the roommate plan, but all the realtors I worked with could get no more than $875-900 for it. That was way below my 2 mortgage payments plus the monthly common charges of $225 a month. My savings began to drain away. I wanted to save my condo at all costs and I didn’t want to have a foreclosure. I had been proud of my almost perfect credit score and now it was in danger of being ruined. I took a job as a domestic for 3 months, in spite of my bad back. In 2004 I was only able to rent out the condo for 6 months. To make the mortage I was forced to use credit cards. Eventually I racked up more debt and unable to make payments the condo foreclosed on November 1, 2005.. I would like to ask you to help change the laws so that real estate people can get punished for doing what my realtor did. I was very naïve to trust the realtor but I did everything in my power to make the payments and to save my place. There are countless numbers of persons (even HUD and various real estate investors) that I contacted. Nothing did any good (the investors would not buy the condo because it had what they called negative equity). Now it appears that my life will stay in shambles.What I went through happened before this subprime crisis exploded, but its effect on my life was beyond belief. It is the same as if someone had kicked me in the back and left me paralyzed for life.

I have lived with Lau, my cat, in the streets of Manhattan. People were very kind to both of us. I am especially grateful to the soup kitchen at St. Bart’s church on 50th between Lexington and Park, the Starbuck’s coffee shop on 51st. just off Park and the Midnight Run organization. Passers by were also nice to us, giving me food for Lau and playing with her.

Now I am in Williamsburgh, Brooklyn. A friend allows me to stay in his loft. I have terrible back pain and no medical insurance. My back condition is chronic, and needs the care of a professional. When it is very painful, it hurts me to walk, go up and down the stairs and sit. I am in desperate need of medical help but can not pay for it due to my ruined finances. Sincerely, Eugenia Maria Renskoff

Wednesday, December 10, 2008: Where to now? I must leave, I must go as soon as possible. I don't know yet and I'm tired of not knowing.