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February 3, 2006
Locked out of the American Dream
Every time I hear that whirr I subconsciously say a silent prayer for the safety of the crew and its patient. Lately, however, after looking at homes that sold for $100,000 two years ago get scooped up for $400,000 today, I think to myself every time I hear the whirr of that helicopter: "You know, if I had an air ambulance and a pilot and a flight nurse I could make, like, a katrillion bucks a day." But then I remove my head from the clouds and back on the ground I ask myself: "Who in their right mind would pay $300,000 for a 10-year-old manufactured home valued at $60,000 when it was new?" A moron with a lot of money, say I, wondering whatever the hell happened to the Pahrump I moved to in 1995. I know envy is one of the deadly sins and I know I shouldn't resent other people's riches to more riches story, but I could kick myself for not having the foresight to buy a few properties back in the day when land was inexpensive. This isn't the first time my wholesale failure to make money has come back to haunt me. Back in the early 1980s I was asked to join four buddies from UNLV - albeit four buddies with daddies far more affluent than mine was - to buy a 10-acre vacant lot in Henderson for a combined $30,000. I begged out, saying the land was useless desert. My friends sold the land in 1990 for $330,000 and bought cars and boats and, silly fools, more land. But I can't be too hard on myself. I had a toddler and an eighth-grader to take care of when the family moved to Pahrump. Like most Americans we went through the painful loan process and, essentially, settled on a monthly mortgage we believed we could afford. The home we sold in old Henderson wasn't as attractive to homebuyers as were the homes in new Henderson, known far and wide as Green Valley, so we took a hit on both ends. And I remember we didn't exactly have an overflowing bank account back in those days. We could afford one mortgage, one car payment, one insurance payment and the other monthly bills that come in, but we had no more and beans were a staple on our dining room table. These days our home is almost paid off and if and when we sell we expect to make a handsome profit - but to what end? We'll have to live somewhere and if we want to improve our lifestyle then buying a new home will eat up our nest egg if we are to be able to afford the monthly payment. How does one get ahead in a system so out of sync with the universe? Assuming my working family is no different than yours is, was or will be, the question must be asked: How can people afford to pay such high prices for homes? With $1,200 monthly mortgages? And a truck and car payment? I know where they work and they don't make the salaries required to live in such expensive homes, drive posh trucks and eat out three times a week. I always assumed such people were beneficiaries of substantial inheritances, won the lawsuit lottery, sold drugs or simply lived beyond their means. According to a recent report in a national magazine, more than 70 percent of Americans have a credit card debt they plainly can't get out from under. Like the government, they pile up the obligations like overburden from a freshly excavated pad needed for the foundation of a home that will cost $200,000 more than it is worth. My family's credit card debt is virtually nonexistent, mainly because my wife keeps the card far, far away from her husband, who manages money like former director Michael Brown managed FEMA. This fact allows us to sleep most nights, knowing we are living within our means, but that doesn't necessarily take away the transgression of envy. Sometimes I think I should just apply for one of the 23,749 credit card offers that come in the mailbox every day and live high on the hog for five or six years, get in way over my head, stop making payments, declare bankruptcy and then go get another high-interest credit card. The American dream has turned into the American debt, and it is a nightmare. The only thing that can lift me out of its grip is the whirr of that helicopter and the fantasy of having riches beyond human comprehension. Just call me Shallow Doug. Write to Doug McMurdo at dmcmurdo@pvtimes.com. |
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