So You Think It Can't Happen To You. Well, Think Again!

Well, I thought so too but homelessness happens. Come to think of it, I've been homeless several times.

The first two times was in Niles, Michigan.

I had moved there in May of 1989 after taking a job offer from a commercial printing company there. I was offered a working interview upon the recommendation of two former associates who previously were employed by a web-offset commercial printing company in Medina, Ohio.

My job in Medina was secure. I was successful there. I received raises on a consistent, timely basis. My reviews were always good. I was trusted by management in my judgment and troubleshooting abilities. I worked overtime when asked, took on other responsibilities including supervising and quality control. I was the queen of multi-tasking; the model employee.

My resignation (in writing) shocked my co-workers, department manager and shift foreman. No one saw it coming. It even shocked me. I was leaving a job, friends and a three-bedroom condo in a town that I loved.

Depression can do that to a person. And I was very depressed. I didn't realize it at the time but I'll go into that at another time in another post.

Anyway, I started the new job in Michigan in April of 1989. It was a fantastic job at a progressive company. Twelve hour shifts; every two days off allowing me the ability to drive the 5 hours to Medina to pack, have a garage sale and make the full move to Michigan and into an apartment a month later.

Now, here's where the homeless part comes in - the first time.

There was a fire the evening of December 26, 1989. I felt it - I sensed it - I obsessed over it.

Mom came up to Michigan to visit and I scheduled a few days off to take her back to Ohio and have time to spend with friends and relatives. We were to leave for Ohio December 26, which we did do after several hours of leaving the house (duplex), returning to double check things such as plugs, making sure I had left nothing turned on and leaving the apartment key with Tricia who lived upstairs. The thermostat controlling the heat to both of our apartments was located in my downstairs apartment.

Two feet of snow had fallen overnight; mild by Western Michigan standards. Damn it was cold outside; below freezing with a wind chill of zero.

Finally I left Niles; got on the toll rode in South Bend and got as far as Elkhart, Indiana when the feeling of doom over took me. Back to Niles, Michigan to check again. Did I unplug my hot rollers?

Six hours later; it's 8 p.m. Mom and I had just ordered dinner at the Brown Derby on Cleveland-Massillon in Montrose, Ohio. The feeling of doom came over me again and I couldn't shake it. It was overwhelming and Mom noticed it too in how I was acting; fidgeting.

We ate dinner and left headed for Massillon. We drove two hours to my hometown of Toronto, Ohio the next morning to visit cousins and my aunts.

After a full day of driving, visiting and driving back to Massillon, the phone rang at my mom's. It was 10 p.m. My best friend Debby had called to tell me that there had been a fire; in Tricia's apartment at 8 p.m. (the same night and time I was at the Brown Derby fidgeting the night before).

I had tenant's insurance; Tricia didn't. I lost nothing. Tricia and her son Favian lost everything; Christmas presents, the cat died from the smoke. My apartment was sooty and smokey. Tricia's apartment was gutted. Both apartments were uninhabitable.

My insurance covered my motel stay, expenses to clean my clothes and furnishing, expenses to move. I received a check from the insurance adjuster for $1500.00. The Salvation Army took care of Tricia and Favian.

The fire department determined the cause of the fire to be an unattended candle burning in Tricia's living room while she, her son and company she had over for dinner were in the kitchen.
Tricia told me she heard a popping noise.

We found dangerous wiring outside my apartment the day I moved out. I purchased, from the landlord, the washer and dryer that was on the enclosed back porch. The dryer was connected to a stripped, exposed cable (a hot line) coming up from the basement.

Just makes one wonder!

So how did I become homeless the second time in less than 4 years? Read my next post: "Longer Press Runs, Looking For Busy Work Means Unemployment".