Dad used to get this dreamy look in his eyes when he talked about the day the mortgage would be paid off. That’s the way it was then. You lived in a house for 20 or 30 years until you paid the damn thing off. Fulfilling the mortgage early and living in one home until the day you died seems like a quaint anachronism. Now Dad is gone and there are bars on the windows of the home he once owned. The American Dream has moved on without him.
Somewhere along the way Americans became nomads, and it can be seen in South Philadelphia, which once seemed impervious to change. Jobs change. Locations change. Most people have become transients just passing through on their way to the next job, to the next home. For a while the housing market promised a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Every property sold just made more money. So people sold and moved, sold and moved again.
Some fled to Florida, attracted by sun 12 months a year and cheap mobile homes. Then, at the height of the market boom, developers moved in and the land was sold right from under them to build coral-colored condos that cost six figures and up. Most South Philadelphians on the move merely went across the bridge. In Jersey you could find that white picket fence and a little patch of grass for a garden, but it might’ve all been on top of a toxic-waste dump.
If you can afford it, some move up right here in South Philadelphia in one of those new developments with suburban-sounding names. These homes might lack the substance and character of the old homes, but they come with a parking space. Their hefty price tags would have been laughed at a few years ago, but everyone is playing a role nowadays, like those who fled West during the Gold Rush. We are all Forty-Niners panning for precious nuggets.
Condos are going up everywhere, but not for the people already living here, not when they start at $500,000. The old neighborhoods are becoming gentrified. Young professionals will buy them, some of whom know nothing more about South Philadelphia than a good restaurant or that it’s just seven minutes from Center City by subway. Step right up and claim your 10-year tax abatement. Don’t worry about the rumors of the condo market crashing in places like Vegas.
The old homes really aren’t senior friendly anyway, they tell us. All those steps to the bathroom will soon become the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest. Without expensive renovations, our homes have become obsolete, making us even more so. The conventional wisdom is it’s time to move into one of those senior developments, which are just another kind of ghetto for disposable human beings.
Even if you could afford those expensive renovations to make your old home more senior friendly, who are you going to find that is reliable enough to hire? The trade of remodeling is fast becoming a lost art, a haven for shysters who leave the job unfinished and flee with your money, or one of those big outfits that contract everything out — the equivalent of what chain restaurants are to good food.
Meanwhile, many young couples spend much of their free time shopping for a home. When the weather is nice, you can see them on weekends, looking at samples, going to open houses. They rarely buy. The homes are usually beyond their financial means. Looking at houses has become almost a form of recreation; The search for a dream home has become the 21st-century version of the quest for the Holy Grail.
Many of us have simply incorporated our hopes into hitting the lottery. The Horatio Alger Jr. saga has lost much of its credibility. We see the chance of making a fortune through hard work a dream that recedes each day. What we have left is the lottery ticket. Our number will provide fortune.
Dad died firmly believing he would hit the lottery one day and bail us all out of life’s desperation. The lottery is our hope for getting out of the job we hate. If old Horatio Alger were around today, he too would be pinning his hopes on the winning ticket — his chance of becoming rich roughly equivalent to getting hit by a bolt of lightning while crossing the street.
They give us lots of gadgets to fill our free time and dispense drugs to keep our restlessness contained. All the while, we have replaced gypsies as the nomads of the 21st century.
Always roaming. Always dreaming.
