Active Interests

It seems, from the time I came to New England (I am not native to these grey climes), folks have ever taken an overly active interest in my life. This has not has the best of impacts on me, and, in fact, has caused the loss of many things most dear to me.

So it is that with great trepidation that I responded to the following inquiry:

“Didn’t I see you at the Skating Club of Boston?”

Now seeing me there is no great achievement. I am a member of that old club. I am a regular visitor there, and can be seen there every Monday night throughout the year (yes, summer too) refereeing the Monday Night Learn to Skate Programs for the little ones. I also may be seen there on summer Saturdays coaching the hockey. On other occasions, I am there watching my investment scar the hard ice with cold steel. So I was watching when the inquiry targeting that investment brought out and scotched up my defensive “cockles”.

“ I saw you talking to Hanako. What do you know about her?”

Other than the fact that she is 7th grade age? Other than the fact that she costs me $2,000 A WEEK to keep in her training? Other than the fact that I DO believe she will be the next great figure skater to come out of these United States? Other than the fact that she has an outer “worldiness” decades beyond her pre-teen years, I know nothing about her.

So came the litany of familiar questions: how long has she been skating, howmanyhoursdoessheskate is shehomeschooled and blahblahblah and how did they find her for the HBO thing and the NBC thing and …

To all of it, I am, evasive – protective of my investment -- but I did answer 2 questions. Her name means little flower in some Asian flavor and she plays the violin, and yes, to ramble on, I bought her the violins from 1/8 size up to full.

What does this all have to do with Real Estate? Well, perhaps it is the REAL part. Life goes on for someone – a chance I never had, or perhaps a reflection of things taken away, and I am grateful she is allowing me to come along for the ride even if I must pay the very expensive million dollar ticket.

I Remember You -- Redux

Agents will do just about anything to get a listing, and I am pretty much the same. I will stop, however, at illegal activities, of course. So too, will I stop at owner supplied selling prices. I pick the price.

So it is that a request has come from an prospective lister that meets my criteria of "just about anything".

Here goes:

November 12, 1994. In the dark trunks, Junior Vasquez at 128 pounds. In the whites, with " C K " on the right hip, Mickey "the Lawman" Gutterman at 126 pounds.

It is the third round. At 2:52 I take a cross on the right eye brow that opens up a stream of blood. At 2:58 I take a hit in the left rib cage that makes breathing hard.
Between rounds, my trainer the staunches the blood flow and into the 4th I go. Breathing hurts, and my trainer tells me to circle to my left and lead with left uppercuts. This will keep my right eye "away" from Junior, but it will open my sore rib cage to his body shots. It is hoped my left elbow (in uppercut position) will offer some protection for my ribs.
I circle; he throws a right jab to my left eye and connects, but I uppercut underneath his punch and hit his chin.
He steps back, then comes up for another right jab, but I quickly step right and cross with a right. I hit him on the back of the ear and he falls forward. I go to a neutral corner, and he takes the count to 8.
He comes out and tries to right jab the body again, and this time I right cross him again and hit the cheekbone. He trips on his own foot but he is up before the count starts. He is hopping mad. He is bleeding from inside his mouth. I can tell because he is swallowing something.
He is up, I left cross him and he body shots me in my open rib cage. My breath seizes, but I have one chance to cross him and I hit his cheekbone, again. He goes flat down. I move to the neutral and the count begins, but at 5, I, too melt down, hanging on the rails. The ref is double counting, "Junior 6, Al 1, Junior 7, Al 2, Junior 8..." and I know I will not be getting up. I cannot breath. Junior is trying to move, to roll over and lift up to stop his count. It is a long three seconds. But he cannot do it. His count ends at 10. And my count stopped before 5.

There it is. And now for the one final piece -- real estate is my business. It is the business I will share with you. Why I wore " C K " on my trunks for those 51 fights, is also my business...and will remain my business. Now let's do an open house, shall we?

I remember you

I am usually wary of that pentameter up top. Usually the "good is oft interred with the bones" as Shakespeare wrote, so when someone "remembers" you, it cannot be for the good.

The other day, a woman comes up to me and says that. I try to rehash through ancient wild party visions to see if I can conjure my half of the memory, but there is nothing.

"Glad to see you, again," I say,-- buying time. "Hope all is well."

"Not again," she says, "There is no again, because you've never seen me before."

My prurient interests are piqued! We must have "done it" with the lights off.

But no. "You beat the crap out of my husband. We needed the cash and he tried his hand at prize fighting at Wonderland. You beat the crap out of him. We didn't get the money. You did. You're the boxer, right?"

Relieved, I drop my gloves, so to speak and begin the speech, how are you glad things are well after all where are you living and, of course, if you know anyone who is thinking about changing their living arrangements, let me know -- I will be glad to help them...

I hope she remembers me.

Disguise

"Dis guy's an idiot," so says the selling broker, "What does he tink, we're givin' dis away for free?"

He's talking about my buyer, or actually he's talking about me, or perhaps he's just generally referring to any happanstance that befell since I delivered my offer to him.

Too low, I should surmise.

Yes, I did the competitive analysis of what the home would cost, yes so did he, yes I looked at the road traffic, so did he and yes my number on paper would seem low.

Ahh, but did one care to look at the family situation? There is an issue, an element that rests in disguise -- shall we say. Something wrought out only by hanging out in the local Dunkin Donuts.

The sellers take my offer. They need to get out. Many times, there is just something beyond the cold numbers, something in the make-up that is hidden below the grease paint of life. Numbers tell a lot, but they do not tell all.

Maybe I am an idiot, but I do have another deal.

April Fool

The guy calls me up and tells me he's thinking of selling his home. Wants to know what it is worth. So, "natch" I'm up for the listing and off I go to see the house. This was a few days ago. I take the run through, pull my numbers do my thing, and on Monday, yesterday, I jingle him to tell him I've got a number for him.

"Natch", he's not at home so I leave a message. "I have number for you," I say, give me a call. My number is 6 1 7 -...." and so on and so on.

Nothing that day. Today, on April Fools he calls.

"Ah," I say, "Glad you called, "I've got a number for you. I'd like to get together and discuss how it came about and share with you how I will maximize your..." blah, blah...blah...

And he says, "No need. I like the number, I think we should go with it. I'm surprised...I thought this was a dead market but wow..."

And I am thinking he's got the wrong agent on the line. So says I, "This is Al. over at..."

And he says, "I know I like your number..."

"But," I retort, "I have not given it to you, yet"

"Yes you did on the phone...It was 'six-one-seven'"

Knowing now that my land-line-correspondent is not playing with the full 52, I carefully tread. Delicate, Gentle as a summer wind. "That is my AREA CODE and phone number! Not the dollar number."

To wit, I forward to him the factoid of his home's value. He is crushed. He is deflated. He's decided to wait out the storm and see what next season will bring. In the meantime, I suggested to him he should call me in my Winchester office. My number there is 7-8-1... He can make a quick 160 grand!