All of a Sudden...Home

 

Copyright © 2021

by Ralph F. Couey

Life changes. That simple two-word statement sums up the real truth of human existence.  And the only truly consistent thing that exists.  Sometimes change approaches slowly, politely; begging your pardon for interrupting the even tenor of the passage of time.  You can see it coming, and are ready for when in finally arrives.  Other times, change roars in from around the corner, or behind a bush, like a stalking tiger.  When it arrives, it does so, at times, with damaging effect.  Or, perhaps a sudden windfall, a providential change in luck.

Several months ago, it came out in conversations that Cheryl's Mom's long-term care plan would be unequal to the task for which it was designed.  She used to have an excellent one.  Then some shyster of a salesman sold her the current junk plan for the sole reason that her monthly payments on that plan would be less.  That created a problem.  After some discussion, and a long, searching, thoughtful consideration of the matter, we offered to buy Mom's house from her.  She would get just about all the equity, which would cover all her long term care costs for a pretty long time.  

Mom's dementia is getting worse.  She can't feed herself (forgets to eat), can't properly bathe herself, and requires help whenever she visits the facilities.  Caring for her has gotten increasingly difficult, and what we hoped would never happen, placing her in managed care, now appears more substantially on the horizon.  So this was something that had to take place.

We had figured that once we were no longer caring for her, we would return to the mainland to be with our grandkids in Virginia, Colorado, and California, all of whom are growing up entirely too fast.  Having no location there we really considered "home," we hadn't been able to settle on a location.  Now, it seems we have determined to put down roots in this stony, volcanic soil.

The thing is, it won't be cheap.  Not by a long shot.  Home prices in Hawai'i are rising at a precipitous rate.  The mean price for a home on O'ahu is $920,000.  On Maui, its over a million.  Young people, unable to afford a home of their own, are paying to put second stories on their parent's home in which to live.  Yes, that's not cheap.  But it comes in at less than half of what the going rate would be for a stand-alone house.  We had been looking, in a kind of desultory, disorganized way, at places in west O'ahu, specifically the communities of Ewa (pronounced EVA) and Kapolei.  The commute would be a killer, since we both work at the other end of the island.  But these were newer homes, in good shape with nice amenities like central air conditioning.  Those were priced in the 600 - 700,000 range, which we seemed for which to be able to qualify.

Now, Cheryl's two older sisters are career tax experts, and they quickly pointed out that this sale would likely cost Mom a substantial amount in taxes.  So, a bit of time passed while it was figured that regardless of whether the sale went through now, or a few years from now, the sizeable bite from Uncle Sam could not be avoided.  

We set a price of based on what I saw as the value of the homes in her immediate neighborhood, the age of the home, and the general condition, contingent on the appraisal, which I was confident would be in that neighborhood.  We began the tortuous process of applying for the loan, and wading into the considerable amount of paperwork such a purchase requires.  It is the first time we've done this without a Realtor to hold our hands, and I live in fear that something's going to fall through the cracks somewhere.  In the meantime, the appraisal turned up some roof damage that had to be repaired, while the islands were being hammered by a series of storms that dumped feet of rain on some places.  Then, the cable went out, which resulted in a 4-hour visit from a tech who finally found a tiny fault in a wire that was shorting out the whole system.  There was some minor paint issues that I already have attended to, and things seemed to be sailing clearly.

But the appraisal came in quite a bit higher than we thought, an amount which, when listed as a mortgage is simply terrifying.  The lender cheerfully assures us that we still qualify, but a amount of this magnitude puts handcuffs on us.  For one thing, if either of us loses our job, or even gets laid off, things would get ugly very quickly.  The home still needs some necessary work, which we were planning to pay for, but that window of flexibility is way narrower now than it was.

On the plus side, everything in Hawai'i appreciates rapidly, and we won't have to hold on to this for an extended period of time.  Plus, later this year, I start drawing Social Security, which will be a great addition to our monthly income, one that makes this enormous payment not quite the roaring, hairy, be-fanged beast it now seems to be.  And, as I've already noted, Mom will have all the money she'll need.  And in the mean time, she still lives at the place she knows as "home."

For Cheryl, Hawai'i was always home.  No matter where we were domiciled, when she talked of going home, it was always back here.  But the islands have changed.  Violent crime is on the rise, and the gentle, abiding Aloha spirit is far less apparent now than it was when she was growing up.  This is especially apparent on the increasingly-crowded roads.  There are rumbles of division that just weren't there before.  Despite the increasing population of the poor, prices and costs continue to skyrocket.  She has spoken several times of how disappointed she has been.

For me, I used to say that home was where my motorcycle was parked.  Having surrendered that particular joy to my declining reflexes, now home is where the Mustang is parked.  And, oh yeah, where my dearly beloved lives.  (Just kidding -- She is the light of my life)  I really don't have a geographic location that I consider home turf.  My eternal fealty to the Kansas City Chiefs and Royals is the closest thing to that, I suppose.  So it really doesn't matter to me where we go, as long as we're together.  (Along with the Mustang).  Our sojourn into travel nursing (contract work) was supposed to address this incongruity by "trying on'' a few locations. 

I have affection for some places.  The forested rolling hills and steep mountains of the Shenandoah continue to call to me, as I recall the incredible days spent hiking the Appalachian Trail.  Kansas City, with its remarkable sense of community and easy living.  Northern California, the counties where people who share our views of the world exist, some planning to secede from the Golden State.  Arizona, despite the summer heat, can be a beautiful place, at least for 8 months out of the year.  Vegas, with all the stuff to do.  Gettysburg, a place of solemn history and deep meaning.  We really enjoyed Colorado, except for the incidental consideration of not being able to breathe there.  For all that sky, there's just not enough air.

There are just too many places to think about.  If it were necessary for us to leave now, there's literally no place that draws us.  With our precious grandkids scattered across the country, there's no centralized place to launch from.  Unless we just float from kid to kid, state to state, annoying the heck out of them and overstaying our welcome.  And doesn't THAT sound like fun.

So, here in Hawai'i are we, and apparently here we will stay for awhile.  All things considered, there are far worse options.

We're thankful that we are in a position to do this.  Helping Mom was our only motivation in undertaking the purchase.  Otherwise, when the time came, we'd be headed back to the mainland.  Back where you have REAL winter.  And no beaches.  And no ocean.  No sea turtles, no wonderful cooling trade winds, no stunning sunsets.  No gentle, laid-back island ways.  No Saimin.  No shave ice.

Hmm.  

Maybe it won't be so bad here after all.