The tax man cometh

So there it was. Right across the street from my grandmother's house. A tax auction sign. "This property will be auctioned by the county..."

As much as it is a sign of something gone wrong, it's also an opportunity. Depending on who sees the opportunity, things can evolve into yet another something that goes wrong - sometimes terribly wrong. Just think for a moment if your neighbor lost the ability to maintain their home. Let's say the property went vacant for a time. Vandals took advantage of it. Maybe some unseemly persons start frequenting the property.

Now keep in mind it could get even worse. What if someone decided your neighbor's house needed to be bulldozed so they could stack junk cars on the land. Or use it for some other unsightly commercial purpose. Maybe pen some pigs and chickens on the land (now there's a stink you just can't get out of your nose).

I know, most of these things are not likely to take place where you live, as you probably have zoning laws. But in the remote parts of Greene County New York, this was all within the realm of the possible as zoning laws are not only rare, but usually easily circumvented. Laws on the books are one thing. A town's limited resources being brought to bare on enforcing them is quite another.

So, back to that sign - it was opportunity knocking, and a bit of fear drove that opportunity to become a necessity. I needed to buy that property at the tax auction in order to avoid having anyone else purchase it and do horrible things that my Grandmother would then have to live with for the rest of her life.

After all, she'd lived all this time within eyesight of the first home she'd ever had away from her parents. She'd been able to watch as another family used her little cabin as a summer bungalow for their retreats from the sweltering life of city dwellers. She'd watched with the loving (longing?) eye of nostalgia as her once beloved little home, her little Post Office/home, became a derelict and almost forgotten relic. She had even implored her husband, son, son-in-law, and later her grandsons, to mow the overgrown lawn and nail shut a blown open door or window over the years. It was somehow still hers.

Could I make it mine?

Could I help her, in some way, reclaim a piece of her past?

Next up? My auction experience described in the next installment... stay tuned.