A home is not a house
By Charles E. Kraus
At this point I am certain all of us, left, right, Trump, Biden, Bernie, Cruz, even really extreme outliers such as .... never mind. This is not about that kind of crazy. I'm talking crazy real estate. Let me put it this way, I'm seated behind my desk. Same house for about 30 years. Same room. Same chair. Purchase price (the house, not the chair) was $135,000. What's crazy is its current value. Seattle has evidently run out of properties. My daughter tells me our place is worth, oh, let's say a cool million, give or take enough spare change to buy a few Teslas and a tightly budgeted trip around the globe. The real one, not the scaled down beach ball located in our storage room.
Did I tell you, we have a storage room. No garage. Just a carport. Actually, our no car garage reduces the asking price. Cancel the trip around the real world. I'll sell you this abode for a firm $973,250.23.
Some time ago, when my other daughter and her partner were house hunting in Oakland, the realtor suggested that along with their offer, which needed to be 10% above the asking price, they provide a nicely written letter explaining why they were best suited to become the next occupants. How they loved the wallpaper, and would care for the garden, appreciated the time and effort the owners had put into creating a charming dinette. This was so much more than just a house. Versions of the letter went to a dozen sellers, and finally they landed a half million dollar 'fixer upper' that only needed a new roof, new pipes, new electric, water proof windows, and, dare I say, half a foundation.
When I was a kid, my dad bought us a two bedroom house in Bergenfield, New Jersey. It came with a working foundation. I believe it cost seventeen thousand. I was pretty young, but recall the agent prompting hims to make an offer because someone else was interested. It had to be accompanied by earnest money. He didn't have any cash with him, borrowed some from me and ended up forking over fifty cents to the agent`. One quarter, two dimes and a nickel, so my father used to tell it. Amazingly, even for back then, we became the new owners. Wonder how much earnest money you'd have to put down these days. Seventeen thousands sounds about right.
We live in what they used to call a bedroom community, about ten miles north of Seattle. Despite Covid and working from home and the decentralization of employees, the freeway is congested, come rush hour. Our original plan had been to find a house in the City. Quite honestly, in 1990, we couldn't afford one. We expanded our search, looking further and further north until we reached a financial comfort zone. Nice homes offered at reasonable prices. Same dwellings are now going for eight hundred thousand and up. Mostly up. If you are attempting to use our technique, moving north and then some, until you find a home you can afford. I'd like to welcome you to British Columbia.
During our years in Los Angeles, we were friends with a screen writer who hit it big. At one point, he was trying to decide whether or not to purchase a multi acea property in Rustic Canyon, complete with an appropriately splendid house set back into the palisades. It boasted a two story guest cottage where he could set up his typewriter, as well as a high end maintenance shed that looked suspiciously like the home in which we lived. I believe the asking price was something like $260,000. That was in 1973. I'm curious how the property is valued today.
What do people do? I mean now. I mean twenty somethings, thirty somethings. How do they save enough for a down payment? Come up with their monthly installments? For those wishing to become house owners, it is no longer a two income economy. A three, perhaps four, income economy sounds about right. Most "new" buyers have been priced out of the market. For them, a home is not a house.
Today that modest place my father bought back in Bergenfield costs more than the three homes we've owned during our 50 year marriage. Fortunately, the next place I move to does not require a letter expressing my enthusiasm, nor a credit check. Not even fifty cents of earnest money. Comes with free heat. Lots of it. Hell of a good deal.
