Coronavirus

April 19, 2020

Hometown

“So, what about Paradise?” said my friend, Kurt. “With all this Coronavirus stuff going on, I hope people haven’t forgotten about Paradise.” Kurt, born and raised in Paradise, lost his house and business in the Camp Fire. He moved to Arizona, and says he and his family would consider coming back “if there is ever a town of Paradise to come back to.” He likes to say, “If they build it, we will come” and “Let us know when the sap is rising.”

“Forgotten?” I said, “No way. But, poor Paradise, here we go again!”

“Yeah,” he said, “I heard businesses were just getting ready to open and everything. Like maybe the sap was rising after all. And now everything is shut down everywhere. My wife is a germaphobe anyway. Now she wears a hazmat suit 24 hours a day. She won’t go anywhere. I suspect she burns my clothes after I go shopping.”

“Weird times,” I said.

“No kidding,” said Kurt. “I’m afraid to scratch my own nose, and I dream about rolls of toilet paper.”

“Ha!” I said. “I’ve washed my hands more times in the last month than I have my whole life!”

“I do miss my old hometown,” said Kurt. “My eight-year-old son runs around singing, ‘That town will make you crazy, crazy as a loon.’ Cracks me up. I had no idea the kid heard the stuff I play on my speakers out in the garage, much less retained it.” He paused then said, “Little pitchers have big ears.”

“Wait!” I said. “You’re quoting John Prine songs, right?”

“You bet!” he said, “Are you a Prine fan, too?”

“Yep! I love that song your kid is singing, ‘Crazy as a Loon’,” I said.

“I think ‘Paradise’ is my favorite,” said Kurt. “The song is about another town named Paradise, a town in Kentucky where Prine’s family lived, and it got wiped out, too. The difference is Paradise, Kentucky never came back.”

Kurt sang a few lines of John Prine’s ‘Paradise’. He croaked out a pretty good version of that catchy tune and catchy lyrics, including a decent inflection of Prine’s scratchy nasal twang.

Kurt said, “I can’t believe Prine died from the Coronavirus. I’m in mourning.”

“A lotta heartbroken people out there,” I said, “including me. He was a treasure.”

“I read a quote,” said Kurt. “Prine said, ‘If I can make myself laugh about something I should be crying about, that’s pretty good.’”

“Pretty good words for right now,” I said.

He paused, then said, “Anyway, is it Deadsville in Paradise right now?”

“I’m heading up there tomorrow,” I said. “We leased a space for our Paradise Real Estate office right up the road from the one that burned down, and we’re gearing up for helping any way we can in the rebuild of that town.”

The next day, I went up to Paradise from Chico. I hadn’t been there since right after the first of the year.

Paradise is not Deadsville. The main drag, the Skyway, was buzzing with steady traffic, eighty percent trucks. Trucks with trailers, lumber racks, Concrete rigs, flatbeds loaded with building materials stacked high and strapped down. I cruised the side roads and didn’t go far in any direction without seeing new construction. A foundation formed here, a house framed there, a lot graded there. Lumber stacks piled along the roadside, fresh and clean.

I called Kurt from my cell phone. I stood beside the Skyway in front of our new Real Estate office.

“Hey, Kurt,” I yelled into the phone over the traffic noise, “the sap is rising!”

“Well, okay then,” said Kurt. “If they build it, we will come!”

“Hey,” said Kurt, “my wife and I have a new favorite John Prine song, ‘My Darlin’ Hometown.” She cries every time we listen.”

Kurt croaked out a few lines of the song:

“I’m lost and I wish I were found/ In the arms of my darlin’ hometown.”

Pretty good words for right now.

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April 10, 2020

Hello in There

John Prine wrote these lyrics in the last verse of his song, “Hello in There”:

“So, if you’re walking down the street sometime, and spot some hollow ancient eyes; please don’t just pass ‘em by and stare, as if you didn’t care. Say, ‘Hello in there, hello.’”

In these Coronavirus days you must be careful how you say, “Hello in there.” Don’t lean in any closer than six feet!

A good sentiment by Mr. Prine, however. It’s good to check in on people. Especially with everyone in some form of lockdown because of the hated Coronavirus, Covid-19.

There are a lot of reasons to hate the Coronavirus. A big reason for me right now, and millions of other people, is that the virus took John Prine. Iconic American songwriter and performer, Prine gets the nod from all the Greats in the music world as a Master. The Greats love the man and they sing his quirky, funny, sentimental songs. He was 73 years old with a busy touring schedule.

I leaned in closer than six feet to a lady who was driving her wobbly shopping cart down the parking lot of Raley’s the other day. The cart was piled abnormally high with goods, and she was out of balance, burdened by a couple of purse-like bags dangling on straps from her shoulders. As I passed her, a plastic bag fell off her cart and hit the pavement. A clear-topped container holding a rotisserie chicken spilled halfway out of the bag. The lady was in a helpless position, gripping her cart which would roll away downhill if she were to let go. I instinctively took the few steps to the bag and picked it up for her, instantly realizing I had breached the social-distancing zone. I held it up in an offering gesture, apologizing for intruding into her space.

The lady’s eyes widened above her face mask and she leaned back from me, in apparent horror. She snatched the bag from my hand with her gloved hand and wobbled quickly away down the parking lot.

“It’s a different world right now,” said Bruce, a retired buddy of mine, who called to check in on me. “You must be hanging out at the homestead, doing nothing, like everybody else.”

“Far from it,” I said, “I’m busy every day trying to stay on top of the crazy Real Estate world. We have new Coronavirus Advisory forms people need to sign, and we’re finding new ways to do this business electronically, so people keep the density down and social-distancing up.”

“But no one is buying right now,” said Bruce.

“Surprisingly, there’s an amazing amount of stuff going on,” I said. “Buyers still want to buy, and Sellers want to sell. We’re figuring out how that gets done.’

“Yeah right,” said Bruce. “Everybody’s freaked out and staying home.”

“You’d be surprised,” I said.

“Okay,” said Bruce, “surprise me. What gives?”

“Hang on,” I said. I had spotted one of our Agents, a twenty-year veteran at her desk in the gloom of our darkened office. I stood at least 8 feet away from her with my mask and gloves on and asked her what she sees out there.

“I just wrote an all-cash offer on a house in the $900,000’s that came on the market three days ago. We were beat out by another all-cash Buyer who pushed the price up to $1,000,000.”

“Holy cow,” I said.

“And I wrote an offer for another Buyer today on a house in the $500,000’s, all cash,” she said. “Somebody pushed the price above asking and my Buyer lost out on that one, too. It’s still crazy out there. We need more Listings!”

I reported the news to Bruce. He said, “Oh. Hmm. Well, anyway, did you hear John Prine is sick with the Coronavirus? Such a bummer.”

That was day before yesterday. Last night the news came down that John Prine passed away. My house speakers and my truck speakers have been all John Prine ever since.

One old song of his, “We are the Lonely” speaks in its refrain, to our current time: “We are the lonely, all together. All together we’re all alone.”

RIP John Prine. Thanks for everything.

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April 5, 2020

Letter to a Quarantined Mother

Dearest Mother,

How weird that after all these years, we now have you sequestered away, alone in your little box, unavailable for visits by your loving family. You, at 95 years old now, mother of three, grandmother of eight, great-grandmother of a handful. You, the one who never misses any family get-together, or any chance to hang out with your off-spring and their friends, and your friends, and the world at large.

Weird, but here we are in the Coronavirus World.

To say you are sequestered in your little box is unkind. You have a great place. Small, maybe, but hey, your cute little brown-shingle Bay Area house has it all. And the neighborhood is great. You are the first to say that you are “one lucky old lady” and we get that. Sister of mine and grandkids of yours are all within minutes, if not seconds, of your front door.

But right now, nobody, absolutely nobody, can come or go through your front door. Well, you can. But just for your little walks around the neighborhood with your facemask and gloves on, keeping your social-distancing abilities intact, waving and smiling to the neighbors who cross the street to avoid you and to avoid breaking the Coronavirus Rules.

And your Queenly greetings from your funny second-story doll-house deck, waving and toasting, lifting the drink in your hand. Your adoring family, friends and neighbors, down in the street, waving and toasting back to you. No words are spoken to speak of, because you can’t hear worth a hoot anyway, right? It’s a party, regardless.

How’s my Real Estate life up here in the North Valley? Weird, too. Like you, I am sequestered in my little box. Unlike you, my little box does not have it all. But not too bad. A desk. A phone. A computer. It’s an upstairs office in a big bright building which usually has 50 to 100 people buzzing around inside. It is now 99% dark. It’s quiet. It matters not how well one can hear. Everyone is sequestered away in their own boxes, little or big. No worries. I am slathered in Hand Sanitizer. I hug my bottle of Antiseptic Wipes.

But I have Zoom! Zoom is the great new trick! THE online gathering place. Because of Zoom, I’m face-to-face with more people, more often, than I ever have been. You’ve tried Zoom. Yes, I heard. My brother told me he put you on a Zoom call. Seeing brother and his wife was great, and on Zoom they were right there on your computer screen in living color. But, alas, you couldn’t hear. Bummer.

Anyway, how’s the Real Estate life in the North Valley, you ask. Amazingly, we continue to operate. Homes can be shown Virtually. Meaning online. They can be Zoomed! They can be videoed! They can be FaceTimed!

An offer is typed up by a Realtor and emailed to a Buyer who signs it by clicking the keys on their keyboard. The signed offer is then sent to the Seller who follows suit on their own keyboard. Nobody leaves their box. Realtors and Buyers and Sellers can see each other, talk to each other, look at property in the Virtual World, and do business.

Dearest Mother, from 1924 to 2020, you’ve seen more than most. You made it through World War II. Now it’s Covid-19. How weird, that after all these years, we have you sequestered away in your little box. But we can’t risk losing you.

Precious jewels are kept in little boxes.

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April 5, 2020

Minute-by-minute, hour by hour, day by day, we Realtors in our Real Estate offices and out in the field, are keeping our ears open and our eyeballs peeled, awaiting the latest changes in the governmental recommendations and rules of how to work with people during this new Coronavirus era. Or, how not to work with people.

How not to work with people is the trick. Real Estate, like all other service industries, is all about the people.

“Social-distancing”, or keeping six feet between us, is the new official recommendation for Coronavirus avoidance. The Realtor’s natural tendency is to get up close and personal. “Hand-in-hand and belly-to-belly” is the old-school recommendation for the Realtor building client relationships and providing the best service. That just sounds dangerous in current times, right?

In the office, email memos have been sent to everyone giving direction and recommendations, increasing in severity of social-distancing, after each change we hear and see in governmental policy.

The first memo was almost cheery, along the lines of: “We encourage you to come into the office. We are open, staff is on hand… If you are uncomfortable coming in the office, we understand….”

The next memo was not so much: “In the office please maintain social-distancing… don’t congregate in groups……”

The next memo was more like an order: “Please don’t come into the office unless you absolutely have to…less density… more social-distancing…”

Now, as municipalities and counties across the state and nation make even more severe declarations ordering people to “shelter in place” and for “non-essential businesses” to close doors, we keep our ears and eyes open all the more.

Despite all the distancing we all must maintain, Buyers are buying and Sellers are selling. With mortgage interest rates dropping into the zone of “free money” it’s hard to resist making a Real Estate move, if it’s been in your plans and desires.

Thanks to the magic of electronic signing of Real Estate contracts and scanning and sending any number of documents, Real Estate sales transactions can be accomplished while maintaining the ultimate in social-distancing. We can’t see or hear each other, much less breathe on each other, and we can accomplish the tasks at hand.

We can even “show” a property online through photos and videos, drive past the property, and write an offer, without making human contact of any kind. No joke. Real Estate transactions have been accomplished exactly that way. The sale is contingent upon the Buyer’s approval of a physical visit to the property, when that becomes possible, but for starters they can be absentees to the physical world of the property they are buying.

We have heard that in some municipalities where “non-essential businesses” have been ordered to close, County Recorder’s offices have closed down, which kills the final step in a Real Estate transaction, stopping it dead in its tracks. This has caused a few train wrecks, we understand.

The California Association of Realtors is pressing with all their might to convince government administrations throughout the land that a Recorder’s office is an “essential business” whose doors should remain open. Looks like we’re getting there.

Regardless of the technicalities and entanglements of the business world through this Coronavirus era, we in Real Estate are in it for the people. We hope everyone can stay healthy, safe and strong, as we all listen and watch closely for the latest Coronavirus information and recommendations.

It’s minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour, and day-by-day.

Category: Coronavirus