Love's Real Stories

Guess which of these Old-World phrases is found in all modern-day real estate contracts:

“E Pluribus Unum”; or “Time is of the Essence”; or “Thou Shalt Not Kill”?

My old mentor, KDV, knew real estate contract language the way you and I know our own names. KDV spoke Old-World dialect, too. He said things like, “Right on, brother”; and “She’s a great broad”; and “Man, that’s some jive turkey.”

KDV loved to point to real-life situations to demonstrate the meaning of contract language. A good example of the phrase in question is a situation in which KDV himself was involved.

KDV fired up his hand-rolled cigarette and leaned against the back door of our office building. He snapped shut the Zippo lighter, and motioned his thumb toward the parking place where his car was parked a few feet away. “This dame just doesn’t get it, babe.”

“You mean the little grey-haired lady in the back seat of your car? I’ve noticed she’s been riding around with you for a while,” I said. “Is that a cat on her shoulder? And what’s that on the front the seat, a beanstalk?”

“It’s a rubber plant, man. Her dog is on the floor, and her suitcase and boxes are in the trunk.”

“Where are you taking her?”

“You got any room out at your place, bro?”

“Sorry, my house is packed with kids, and we just got another horse, so the barn is full, too.”

The little grey-haired lady in KDV’s car was one Mrs. Swenson, who had just sold her home through KDV. Mrs. Swenson was mad at everyone, and refused to leave, though she no longer owned the home. The buyer’s moving van was idling in the driveway when KDV convinced her she really had to leave.

“She doesn’t get what?” I asked.

“Only the most important language in all binding agreements between members of the human race!” he said. His voice climbed in volume. “Only the clause empowering enforcement of the promise we make to each other to act with diligence in the performance of our contractual obligations!”

He stared into my face, apparently hoping for a glimmer of comprehension. Finding only the dim look of a cow chewing its cud, he said patiently, “Come on, sweetheart, you remember Contract Class, right? It’s the phrase that keeps us all on the straight and narrow.”

“Thou shalt not kill?”

“Ha! Very funny, Jokemeister! You are joking…..?

“E Pluribus Unum? I asked.”

My mentor lowered his head and shook it slowly. Then he straightened up and stood tall like the Statue of Liberty, chin up, and arm held high, clutching his cigarette like the statue’s flaming torch of enlightenment.

In his deepest booming voice he pronounced: “Time is of the Essence!”

Mrs. Swenson stared at him through the car window and shook her head, as if she had heard this before. KDV continued his pronouncement: “Time is of the Essence, my brother! The contract is speaking to us. It is telling us the timelines are for real. It sayeth thou shalt not ignore, bend or mutilate the contract deadlines or thou couldst lose some serious bread!”

He nodded toward Mrs. Swenson. “I had to save this dear damsel from the distress from a lawsuit,” he said. “I talked her down off the ledge of contractual suicide. One more day in that house would have cost her big-time, babe.”

“Wow,” I said, “what now?”

“Well, right now, I gotta hustle for home. I’m late for a lunch date with my wife, and she knows what I know, babe.”

“What’s that?”

“Time is of the Essence!”