By Lady Gray, February 7, 2019 — By the time my family totaled five, my husband and I knew it was time to look for a house. The third floor, two-bedroom apartment we occupied was not going to be enough space for three growing boys whether we had any more children or not.
My husband and I sat down and had this serious discussion a few times and at the end, we always did the same thing; laughed. We knew that we just did not have the two things that would make the dream come true- money and good credit! My husband had a part time job and was attending school for aerodynamics. Me, I was the proud mother of three and a child care provider for a handicapped, school-age boy. He was dropped off by the school bus every day and hung out with my sons until his mother came home from work.
Managing to keep the rent and utilities paid and buy essentials like food and clothes, we were still struggling. That’s why the idea of purchasing a house seemed so comical. We’d laugh each time we brought it up and move on to something more realistic. We still could not afford to ignore that our family needed more space and soon.
One warm Monday in the summer of 1979, I decided to put my one year old son in his stroller and go for a walk. My two older boys were not home so I figured it was a good day to canvass the area for apartments and maybe even a house for rent. I had already accepted the fact that finding an apartment that would accept kids was not going to be easy. Even in Northwest Philadelphia, one would find lots of ads for apartments for rent but those same ads usually had the same two statements No Kids / No Pets. As for the other possibility, a house for rent; that concept seemed silly to me like throwing money down the drain because there was nothing to show for it. Still, what choice did we have? Buy a house? Any bank would laugh us right out the door!
In my quest, I stumbled onto a block that had three row houses, almost side by side and all available. Two of the adjoining houses had signs with a real Estate agent’s name on them. The third house was two doors away and it was a FSBO- For Sale By Owner. I jotted down the numbers on all three signs by I figured I would have a better chance negotiating with the owner and not a real estate agent working for a commission. I left the numbers by the phone for almost the whole week because the idea of trying to buy a house still seemed so far-fetched. I scolded myself saying “Oh ye of little faith” and decided to call at least one of the numbers on Thursday.
The first number I called was on the FSBO sign. Not only was there no answer but there was no answering machine so I could leave a message. I hesitated calling the second number because the sign was an unfamiliar real estate agency and the sign was warped and worn. It looked like it had been out in front of the house for a while. I was also hoping the sign was not evidence of what the house looked like inside. I called the number, left a message but even after a few days no one called me back.
That weekend, my husband attended a workshop for veterans at Temple University. While there, he found out that even though he used his G. I. Bill allotment when he bought a house over 15 years ago, he could use it again because all debts were satisfied when it was sold. Hope abounded for us once more. I decided to call the other real estate company.
Of course they answered right away and were more than anxious to give us an appointment to see the house. After I made the appointment for us, I hung up the phone with a cloud of doubt hovered over me-What on earth was I thinking?
Even with no real money saved we went to see the house and fell in love with it. I knew it was the house I wanted when I walked in and saw the one thing I was wishing my first house would have- a fireplace, a working fireplace. In addition to the house, we got a bit attached to the 80+year old elderly lady that owned it. She’d raised several children, biological and foster in that 3-story, five bedroom, row house but now her doctor was telling her that the stairs were too much for her. Even though it probably was highly un-businesslike, we chatted about our lives rather than the beauty of the house. I already knew I wanted it and she did too.
On faith, my husband and I scraped together $500 for a down payment but my hopes were almost dashed when I enthusiastically told a friend about the house. “Since the house costs $25,000, you do know that you have to pay 10% at settlement, don’t you?” My friend meant well but the question almost devastated me. “That’s twenty-five hundred dollars! I don’t know if we’ll have that in thirty days.” My husband took another part-time job while continuing with school and I took a job too but as the end of the month grew near, we were no closer to our goal.
One day, out of the blue, the owner of the house called and asked how things were going. Since she was practically a stranger to me, I have no idea why I started telling her about the difficulty we were having over the settlement money. She listened patiently but the only thing she said at the end was, “Don’t worry none. I like you two people. A family should have a house to grow in. Don’t you worry, dear,” and with that, she hung up.
On the day of settlement, she called again and asked how we were getting to the real estate office. I told her that we were about to leave to catch the bus since the office was all the way in the Northeast. I gave my best effort to hide the nervousness in my voice because we still did not have $2,500. “Catch the bus?” She said, “Oh no, I won’t hear of it. My son and I will pick you up in an hour.” I cannot explain why I felt that a weight was being lifted. This had to be a good sign.
When we took our seats in the office, my hands were sweaty; except my hands hardly ever sweat. My husband was more relaxed about the whole situation than I was. He was as cool as the people seated across from us. He had given them the form from Veteran’s Administration; all that was left was paying the money. “All seems to be in order,” the agent told us, “now all that’s left is the signing.” First the paper went to the seller and she signed it and passed it to me with the sweetest smile. I swallowed hard and looked down. I was surprised I understood a good bit of what I read. Thank God our teacher in high school Home Economics class went above and beyond just cooking and sewing lessons so I could be prepared for moments like this.
I was definitely not prepared for the bottom line figure on the settlement sheet. I looked in the box above the words “Due from Buyer” and could not believe my eyes- $17.41. This had to be a misprint: seventeen dollars and forty-one cents?! After confirming that the decimal point was in the right place, we hurried and signed the papers and wrote the check. All I could say was, “PRAISE GOD!” And then, I hugged everybody including the realtor who was quite surprised. God had taken us to another level. We had gone from husband and wife to parents and with one stroke of the pen and $17.41, we could call ourselves HOMEOWNERS!
