FORECLOSURE SAGA
by
James Hiram Malone
TODAY IS TUESDAY, The Atlanta sun beams brightly down on a displaced furniture pile on a residence front lawn. The mountainous array of items evicted from the now empty house have no privacy. A great big Atlanta blue sky is the roof over the household personal belongings.
YESTERDAY WAS MONDAY.. Every piece of the now open-air furniture was neatly and functionally arranged in that now abandoned seven room house. The sleep-good full size bed, matching dresser, and the chest of drawers that passers-by gawk at, once held fort in a twelve foot by twelve foot bedroom upstairs bedroom. Nearby, on the grass, an electric alarm clock, whose face reflects the sun rays is set at six am as it was on the family’s night table.
TODAY, TUESDAY, the open door refrigerator is bringing slow death of the freezer foods. Water drains like life’s blood from the box and vapor steams wave to the waiting sky. The popular king-pin refrigerator that once coolly cornered the nine by nine foot kitchen succumbs to the heat of the day.
And the tossed-on-the-side stove fizzes an aroma of gas that escapes from a dangling unplugged coil outlet. Circling humming flies engage in fierce battle as they hover over food remnants of dishpan plates. A laundry basket longing for soapsuds testifies that this home dweller was taken by surprise.
A lean-on-back favorite lounger, crushed under the impact of pots, pans and table lamps, misses being in that fifteen by fifteen foot living room in front of that TV set. And this unplugged electronic device screen now reflects and focuses all-day news to the pedestrians gawking at this front lawn array display. It adds with the picture of the tragedy of a family that got lost in the budget crunch economy and received foreclosure notice and was evicted to the streets.
A dining room table strained with books, jars, cleaning supplies remembers being loaded down with plates of food in that ten by ten foot dining room. And especially on holidays. Unopened gallon cans of beige interior wall paint, a hammer, nails, screwdriver loses hope of decorating and repairing the house leisurely lay on the lawn. An ironing board, relaxes forlornly under the heat of the sun. Bottles of beverage and glasses lay huddle together, remembering Saturday night parties.
Flung-out-of-the-closets, mother-of-the-house dresses and father-of-the house suits lay wrinkled on top of an empty bookcase. Jogging, jumping, dancing, walking family shoes lay idle near the sidewalk.. Torn-from-the-windows, curtains, shades, now not giving privacy to household items, have been themselves been tossed into the shrubbery.
Pages of photo album spill out family memories onto the lawn. Baby Molly’s first steps and her grandma’s last birthday. Children’s dolls, trains, checkers say “Come play with me!” Banged-up card table and scattered playing cards miss Uncle Joe’s laughing, “I bid six!”
Broken picture frames and flower pots suggest the movers were not sympathetic in evicting the family. And pedestrians and motorists mutter, “Ain’t it a shame,” knowing full well that FORECLOSURE can happen to them without a moment’s notice.
RECENTLY, A POLICE RAID OF A SOUTHERN EATERY CULMINATED IN THE DISGRUNTED NEIGHBORHOOD FIREBOMBING THE SHOP’S DELIVERY TRUCK !
MERRY FROM JERRY
