Sunday, December 6, 2009

I remember way back then when everything was true

Sunday, December 6, 2009
As thoughts here in Gaialand drift slowly about the arena of possibly sometime in the distant future maybe considering the vague concept of attaching ourselves onto the very lowest rung of the property ladder, I am reminded of a childhood moment.

My hyper-Catholic, Inigo Montoya of guilt grandmother stands holding a letter in the front room of her family home, with tears streaming silently down her face. The letter, it is explained to me, contains the information that she and her husband now own their house. As a child I am confused by this, on a number of levels. Haven't they always owned the house? And if they haven't and now they do then why is Mammy Zealot sad? The concepts of mortgages and joyful tears are thus explained to the girlish Gimme and all is well with the world. But now, now I'm not so sure.

Within a year my grandfather's right temple mole was revealed to be something more than a beauty spot, so they hacked off the side of his face and turned this greatest of men into a slurring embarrassment to my selfish, now teenage self, and all to no avail. Dead, he was, and soon. Mammy Zealot followed within the year, having nothing left for which to live. And now I wonder, what was the point? What was the point of those years of struggle to raise six children and two grandchildren, to scrimp and save to pay for the monstrous mortgage and the monthly mountain of church bound cash, if at the close of days Jolly Jumping Jesus did not see fit to give them even a couple of years to enjoy all these achievements, all this freedom? I now heartily suspect that what I witnessed on that sunny winter afternoon were not after all, tears of joy, but a prescient weeping of why the fuck did we bother?

11 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Red Leeroy said...

If there is a peak on a graph somewhere representing the exact moment when house prices were at their zenith, then I'm on top of it, weeping and holding a receipt from AIB.

kiki said...

currently contemplating diving in myself.
by the time you pay it off, it will be worth more than you paid for it though. so you win.

gimme a minute said...

Red Leeroy:
Bummer, dude, as my grandmother would not have said.

Yeah, but I'll be dead. Is my point.

Conan Drumm said...

Maybe zealous Granny was just glad to be free of The Man, finally? She was in a good place, and then she went to a better place.

Sniffle said...

Maybe it’s mortgage anxiety, I remember it like that too. How fucking dare the man talk about repayments over 20/25/30 years – unutterable cunts really, and you try to rationalize it but the time scale is too long. Alternatively it’s the Irish version of the US death and taxes constant.

Poignant about your grandparents. I hope she didn’t think that.

Rosie said...

did you get that new telly you were talking about and then decide that it didn't match the curtains?

circus monkey said...

Talking of property, in that first para. you were "all round the houses" verbally speaking!

Medbh said...

My grandparents owned their home.
When my grandmother died 8 years after her husband, my father chucked everything out on the street. It all meant nothing to him.
One of the things that made me opt out of motherhood was the thought that I could produce a similarly rotten child.

gimme a minute said...

That would be the mainstream interpretation, yes.

Our national obsession with property ownership will be the death of us. Or will see the death of us.

Another one to blame on our neighbouring overlords.

No new tv. Working with the microdot. Without microdots, unfortunately.

Circus Monkey:
Well spotted. More of that please.

Stuff is just stuff though, right? But obviously you'd have a much clearly understanding of his motivations, or lack thereof.

kiki said...

kids can benefit from it though
leave them something...?

gimme a minute said...

Oh sure, but you said "you win", not "your kids win". Is all.

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