So after 2.5 hours of phone calls…
some of which were conducted with viciously rude people who are ostensibly there to provide citizen education and customer service, we got through to some others who were open-minded and polite. We were able to determine that our mortgage company and the city assessor’s office were talking us in circles and pulling inflated numbers out of the air. When we were able to provide proof of this to them, via faxed letters and other documentation that Huz thankfully had organized and handy in a labeled, manila folder (such a good guy), we were granted a reassessment of proposed taxes for our property. This does not spare us much financial difficulty, but it does buy us some time and perhaps will result in a less-than-triple amount being suddenly required in our escrow account. During this annoying phone experience, I tried to pretend we were in Italy. I’ve read that navigating bureaucracy there takes weeks and months. Of course, the quality of life Italians seem to fundamentally believe in is morally illegal here, so that may make it tolerable for them. I imagine that in Italy you can always take a break in the middle of the day and have some wine or sit in a park to recharge. I plan to find out for myself someday. I digress.
We are great talkers, great letter writers, and good researchers with high speed internet access. That is why we are able to navigate the convoluted Chicago tax system and point out errors. That is why we knew we could ask for a supervisor when someone was being rude or otherwise unhelpful. That is how we were able to find out they were basing the escrow amount on a completely different building up the street from us, not actually on ours. Oy.
The whole time we were going through this debacle I could not stop thinking of the people in the communities that surround us. When gentrification occurs, and oh my goodness how it does around here, it drives up the taxes of these people, these people who are our backbone, who are great citizens and great homeowners. They are getting screwed to the same degree, but they can’t bounce back from it. We have barely managed to navigate it all. What happens to the people who can’t because of a lack of the resources that we have? I know the answer: they are treated like shit and then driven from their homes, and probably end up pretty damn bewildered and depressed. So much for personal progress and the dream of home ownership.
My dear love Kurt Vonnegut wrote:
“America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves. To quote the American humorist Kin Hubbard, ‘It ain’t no disgrace to be poor, but it might as well be.’ It is in fact a crime for an American to be poor, even though America is a nation of poor. Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by the American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters.”
“Americans, like human beings everywhere, believe many things that are obviously untrue. Their most destructive untruth is that it is very easy for any American to make money. They will not acknowledge how in fact hard money is to come by, and, therefore, those who have no money blame and blame and blame themselves.”
I tell myself I should feel okay about our specific property; our area has been an artists’ haven pretty much always, and our building was once apartments for students, so no people were harmed in the creation of the current community. None that I know of anyway. Damn, I hope not. Those around here who cannot effectively navigate and advocate for themselves are punished with rudeness and loss by those who are paid to protect and help them.
I tell you all of this not to publicly sob. I’m fine. We will figure it out. I’ve been poor and this is not it. Not starving poor, of course, but fairly hungry. I’ve had to resort to some creative ways to feed myself and keep a roof over me. I grew up with the lights being shut off a good bit and had to start work at a young age. This is not nearly as bad as all that, and all of that really wasn’t so bad. If now is the hardest financial time of our adult lives, we are doing pretty freaking amazing. I am just saying all of this to provide a case, an American story. Huz and I are wealthy compared to the majority of the nation’s population (not to mention the world’s). Issues like a crazy tax bill come up, but we have the resources to handle them after we get over the initial shock. It makes us uncomfortable, but that’s it. I just cannot stop thinking that if such difficulty is happening with us, what are things like for the people who are less fortunate in the next neighborhood over…how are they eating? How are they getting to work? How are they able to raise their families in safe areas? How are they getting care when sick from the stress and otherwise unhealthy conditions they live in? I know that the answer often is they’re not.
If we had not owed $8,000 in medical bills last year (and that was with excellent insurance) our savings would not have taken such a hit and this tax issue would be no big deal. Annoying, but manageable. Imagine what happens to people who cannot pay the medical bills we had. I can, easily. Huz had a terrible accident when we were younger and had no insurance. We learned quickly that unpaid medical bills can pretty much wreck your life for a loooong time. A major part of why he won’t leave his current job is because of the health benefits it provides us. A guarantee of health insurance certainly would allow Huz and I to move more freely about our lives. A guarantee of health insurance would actually save millions of lives and get us out of this economic hole we are in as a country. Want people to start spending? Save them from dying! It’s a start, anyway.
You should see the amputees on the south side here in Chicago. It looks like a war zone. In many ways it IS a war zone. When I was working down south I could not believe how many people had missing limbs. Turns out, with the high rate of diabetes due to lack of access to proper nutrition (no grocery stores with affordable fresh produce will set up shop there) it is impossible for people to maintain the diet they need to manage the disease. Doctors lop limbs to save lives. I’m not being dramatic, look it up. This is happening two miles away from me. Makes it pretty hard to feel sorry for my current need to get a job asap or eventually lose my home (well, it won’t be lost, I’ll know exactly where it is, I just won’t be allowed to live in it anymore, ha ha! Take that, you yuppie turned stay at home mom!). Big fucking deal, right? My family has healthy food and all of our limbs.
I am hopeful that the upcoming election will help solve some of the problems we face as a nation. I was a lot more hopeful back in 2000. I’m pretty tired of getting beat down by now. Like many, I feel betrayed by our major media outlets and my local and national governments. I am not saying somewhere else is better. I don’t know that to be true at all. I am staying put and doing what I know to do to try to fix a broken system: voting, letter writing, and talking out loud about it. As usual, it feels hopelessly ineffectual. So, if anyone knows a way to smooth the path to citizenship elsewhere, say oooooh, I dunnoooo, a country that has some wild notions about valuing its citizens enough to assist with medical and childcare, I would appreciate some tips. Until then, I will vote Democratic, do my best to plow through bullshit, and keep asking questions for the people who can’t.
