No, this is not a post about divorce, separation, or any sort of alienation within the family structure. It’s about dysfunctional neighborhoods: how they can impact the health and well-being of the saner folks, and particularly how one impacted my husband and I, and a few friends, and what we did about it.
You might notice I haven’t posted in a while–more than two years actually. My last post was a runway-to-room feature on Biden inauguration fashions. Since then, my husband and I have had our time stolen from us by the largely unhappy and contentious over-55 community we moved to in 2012.
Finally, in fall 2021, we decided to take back our lives and move on, literally, in spite of the fact I was scheduled for major surgery–a bilateral knee replacement (two at once!)–a month after we closed on our old and new homes.
We needed to get out THAT BADLY.
Paradise Court used to be a good place
Yes, that’s really the street where I lived, though it was never ACTUALLY paradise. It was fine, though. We liked our home. And the people we shared our four-unit condo building with were all good neighbors, as were the the two whose driveways were across the private lane from ours. We remain good friends with them all.
And though I didn’t know a lot of the people in our 48-unit neighborhood for the first six years we lived there, I can honestly say we didn’t have any substantial issues with anyone.
Our biggest concern was the homeowners’ association was responsible for exterior building maintenance but not proactive about correcting issues like crumbling masonry and rotted wood. They would fix it IF you pointed it out and obtained your own estimate. You were smart to find your own contractor as well, since many they used weren’t thoroughly vetted and did shoddy work.
But they mostly kept up on painting, the grass always looked good, the snow was plowed, and untidy property owners were generally followed up on if enough neighbors complained enough times.
In 2018, my husband, Chris, was elected to the HOA board, specifically for the purpose of devising a more proactive approach to exterior maintenance, as the buildings were 30-35 years old and needed more and more done to them. He understands construction and maintenance, as well as how to find and manage good contractors, which isn’t a skill possessed by many homeowners willing to serve on HOA boards.
Chris is also a software engineer and immediately introduced technology solutions to help make the job easier for him and for residents. For instance, he created a community website with a ticketing system residents could use to access information and report maintenance concerns. The system allowed them to file a maintenance ticket by website, email, or a traditional phone call. It then notified Chris. Contractors he worked with consistently had access to a phone app to receive jobs assigned them and note estimates, when work would ensue and be finished, and other details.
The homeowner could, at any time, log into their account and see what was happening with their request. And the community gained a permanent record of what work had been done on which buildings, how much it cost, and who did the work, for historical purposes and future budgeting and planning. Chris also instituted a robo-call system to notify homeowners the day before work would begin on their unit.
A complete inspection of buildings commenced that prioritized jobs based on vulnerability of structures to prevent further damage from weather and other exposures.
Initially, everyone thought this was great
But over the course of two years, jealousies emerged. People saw neighbors getting siding replaced but they did not (because their unit didn’t need it). Or so-and-so got THEIR siding replaced while another homeowner had to wait longer.
Though our building and the adjacent one desperately needed siding and other structural repairs, they were put last on the priority list because several board members and a former board president lived in them. Chris thought it only fair to put his neighbors’ needs before his own rather than have it look as if board members were getting special treatment.
But STILL, even though those buildings waited until the THIRD SUMMER after the inspection for repairs to commence, people grumbled that Chris was taking care of himself and his buddies first.
To his credit, Chris doesn’t pay any attention to gossip. His wife, however, is not made of the same stuff. She is particularly sensitive to anyone criticizing her husband’s motives because she knows him to be the fairest, kindest, most patient man on earth.
Yes, all this pissed me off, ROYALLY. You can’t even begin to imagine.
Enter Eve with the apple
If we were discussing the Bible, I would tell you I think Eve got a bad wrap. Human beings needed to gain knowledge of good and evil and get themselves out of that confining garden. That’s what real life is all about.
But let’s dwell on the stereotypical version of the story for narrative purposes because that’s what applies to the residents of Paradise Court.
Our “Eve” was an 80-something woman who moved in around 2017 and walked the neighborhood daily, up and down its seven private lanes, gossiping about anything and everything, dispensing opinions not grounded in any fact, and somehow uniting some other malcontents through the bite of her rotten apple. Unfortunately, she lived on my lane in an adjacent building.
Before, people at one end didn’t even know the folks at the other, and we were happier that way. But after “Eve” was through, we all knew way more about each other than was healthy. Cock-eyed versions of our lives would come back to us through another neighbor–either a friend wanting to clarify or a resident we didn’t know so well who just wanted to yell at us for something that was either untrue or grossly distorted.
I can’t begin to tell you the number of irate and even kooky calls board members got from neighbors with a completely incorrect set of “facts” who refused to believe the actual facts.
It was a microcosm of the Trump presidency, reelection campaign, and Jan. 6 insurrection rolled into one.
Enter the slithering serpent
Predating Eve’s tenure was a resident who served as board treasurer. However, his reports consisted of telling board members the bank balance but never actually showing them bank statements. He never compiled income and expense reports or created a balance sheet. He shared the budget with the membership, usually, but never once put together a report that showed how budget tracked with actual expenses.
The board elected in 2018 (with my husband on it) asked him to do so, and he refused. When pressed, he said he’d resign rather than do these things. So the rest of the board accepted his resignation. He was, of course, disgruntled, but a previous board president told him he should move on and not let this eat him up. He replied, however, that he didn’t forgive or forget; he got even, which he then set out to do.
So what was in that apple?
Venom. Pure and simple. Lies and distortions.
Interestingly, when our “Eve” first moved in she went around asking folks about our “Serpent” because she played euchre with him at the senior citizens center and didn’t like him because he was controlling. But three years later they were collaborating to destroy the neighborhood through constant complaining and eventually trying to (unsuccessfully) recall the board.
Granted, the board had raised the association assessment during this time–$11 a month. It had actually been $110 for some eight years. These two and a few other malcontent pals of theirs convinced the neighborhood the board should have asked permission to do this at an annual meeting, even though governing documents clearly stated the board did not need residents’ permission as long as the increase was limited to 10 percent.
Don’t forget the other culprit: COVID
Before the pandemic hit, we’d done several things to encourage a happy community, including an end-of-summer cookout and holiday caroling. I hosted a holiday cookie swap in our home for all female residents, then those who attended made up goodie bags and distributed them to neighbors who were shut-ins or lived alone.
Activity like that stopped only a few months after it had started. Not only was it not wise to gather socially, but, like many homeowners’ assocations, we did not hold in-person annual meetings to take care of business. Elections were done by mail, with postage-paid return envelopes. We had already instituted a newsletter and used it to share monthly expenses. We also shared a budget-vs.-actual report, an income/expense statement, and a balance sheet in an annual report format.
Killing the messengers
Though not on the board at the time, I, personally became a target for the malcontents because, seeing how much board members had to do, I volunteered to help. I had a 35-year career editing publications, so I volunteered to do the newsletter. I am a master gardener, so I volunteered to help elderly neighbors with their weeding and such and contributed a gardening article to most every newsletter.
When I was spotted weeding one of my neighbor’s flowerbeds (a close friend) while she fought for her life in the hospital with COVID, “Eve” even asked me if I was running for “Neighbor of the Year.” Really?
All this branded me as someone who thought she was smarter than others, and I was maligned for the good I contributed. The malcontents said I shouldn’t be doing ANYTHING because I wasn’t on the board. But yet, no one new would ever volunteer to BE on the board and/or agree to do SOMETHING. No wonder!! Too risky!
The upshot was I spent all of last summer and fall unable to get more than five hours sleep a night. If I drank too much wine because I couldn’t GET to sleep, I’d wake up five hours later, no matter what. My blood pressure went up, and I had to resume medication for the first time since I’d lost weight five years before. Our cats were both clearly upset from the anxiety they detected in us. One was constantly gnawing on her belly and taking steroids and anti-anxiety medication in our efforts to get her to stop.
The board president also was having difficulty sleeping, and HER blood pressure was too low. The final straw for me came when, after the recall attempt was filed, my best friend in the neighborhood, who was treasurer, said she couldn’t take it anymore, resigned and put her unit up for sale. It sold within a week.
I resented her “desertion” initially because I didn’t think we had the resources to do the same, and it was tough facing the idea of life there without her around the corner. I also never like to run away from a just battle and get frustrated when others do. But gradually I came to realize my friend was right, that ours was a chronically unhappy neighborhood and we, too, should leave. Convincing Chris we were able to leave financially was harder, but our daughter, who is a mortgage loan adviser, showed us both how possible it was.
I also enlisted the help of a long-time realtor friend, who told us our unit would sell in a flash, probably for more than we were asking, so we had to decide first where we were going. We searched our tushees off and eventually found the home where we’re living now, about five miles south of our old place.
It has been a crazy market out there, and I didn’t like looking at homes while other realtors and their clients wandered about a listing along with us. We looked into building, but the wait time was too long (over a year). Some builders released only a dozen or so lots at a time, then asked those interested to bid on them. One asked that we put $25,000 down for a house that wouldn’t be started for at least a year, just to reserve our spot. It felt a little bit like an ebay auction, but with VERY high stakes.
Then Chris got the idea of looking for a builder spec home–one that was already completed, and this is where we really lucked out. The one we bought was the first one we looked at, though we looked at many after, none of which compared for us. It had several things going for it: it was all brick, it backed out onto a lake, the land on the other side of the lake would be developed as a city park rather than with homes, and the builder had just reduced the price $24,000 to get it off his books before year-end.
No one was bidding on this house. We simply had to pay the asking price. What JOY!!
Then, of course, we had to get our buns in gear and get our condo unit on the market. Our realtor made staging recommendations (and even loaned me an elephant throw pillow!). We did EVERYTHING she suggested, filling our garage with packed boxes of stuff no longer needed inside.
Our condo went on the market late on a Wednesday, and we had two offers by early Friday afternoon. One was for $10,000 over asking price, and the other, which we accepted, was a cash offer for $20,000 over asking price. We were able to close on both homes on the same day, with cash in hand from our sale to put down on our new house.
6 lessons learned from this fiasco…
1. Actively search for YOUR place in the world
The home you desire is out there, but you have to FIND it, create it, pursue it, care for it. That requires active searching. It won’t suddenly just “appear” until you do your part.
This also requires keeping an open mind about how to afford and finance what you want and how to get rid of what you’ve got. You may not have a relative who writes mortgages for a living, but hey, those people make a living by helping plenty of folks who aren’t family. So start getting their advice.
And use a realtor. Their advice is worth their percentage. And once you contract with one, listen to them. For instance, we did everything staging-wise that our realtor told us. No, I didn’t enjoy dressing our bed up special every morning in anticipation of viewings. Nor did I like packing up closets so potential buyers could see inside them and think we had more storage room than we did.
But we sold our condo in less than two days for $20,000 more than we asked for it, so I’m not complaining. It was worth every bit of hustle.
2. Take care of yourself and your loved ones first
Never settle for an unhappy neighborhood to the point it erodes your health. GET OUT before that happens. Homes can be replaced; your family and your health cannot.
It doesn’t matter if you were there BEFORE the troublemakers and they wrecked it all. It does matter if you have a heart attack or stroke at 65 and they’re pushing 90, enjoying the rocky road they’ve laid.
To show what leaving an unhappy neighborhood can do: Our anxiety-ridden cat is currently off all medication and doing well, and I am sleeping like a baby. When I finally got my knee replacements, Chris was free from board brouhaha to help me as my focus turned entirely toward recovery. I still have work to do but am at least walking without a cane, organizing my new sewing room, and developing a landscape plan for my new happy place.
As you work toward leaving the past behind, remember that it doesn’t matter who’s right. But it does matter who’s happy. Do what you need to do to be happy. Getting happy is the best way of having the last word.
3. Don’t live in a 55-plus community, if you can avoid it
Too many people in that age group don’t have anything better to do than complain, about anything and everything.
Chris and I are, of course, in that age group, but we’re not like that. I also know lots of other people in that age group who are not like that. But that still leaves plenty who are.
It only takes a little vinegar to sour the milk.
4. Beware of semi-detached dwellings
If possible, buy a single-family home in a neighborhood where you and only you are responsible for the exterior maintenance of your dwelling. Neighborhoods that pool resources to oversee building maintenance are a breeding ground for jealousies. Bob doesn’t want to pay for Bill’s roof, for example, even though Bill’s funds went to redo the masonry on Bob’s unit.
5. Read and understand community rules
Read covenants and other governing documents, preferably before you buy, then abide by them without being reprimanded.
People often think rules are great when they can use them to complain about their neighbors, but they don’t like it so much when they get asked to correct a violation.
It’s not personal, remember. The rules are meant to keep the neighborhood looking consistent and thus preserve property values. If a rule seems unfair, work with your neighbors and HOA board to get it changed.
6. No good deed goes unpunished
I’m not suggesting Chris and I went through what Jesus did. I’m just trying to make a point, and the metaphor works.
It also reminds me of the short story we read in school called “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. My seventh-grade mind had no clue what that story was about, but I know now. Some people always need someone to blame. If you do something for them, they’ll turn it around that you think you’re superior. If you are truly smart, God help you, because they’ll never stop berating you for it.
Keep your powder dry and your guard up to fend off those hurled rocks.
Paradise once lost…
…CAN be regained
Please know that there’s a whole lot more to this story than I’m sharing. ALL the details would bore you and depress me again, and, well, I’ve moved on.
Welcome to our new home, as it looked last fall when we purchased it. And stay tuned for future blog posts on how we’re organizing, decorating and landscaping it.
We don’t live on Paradise Court anymore, but our new address is even more symbolic: