I was making a few phone calls around last week, talking to old friends, alumni of Chanel High School, chatting, catching up, casually asking what they thought of the school's new promotional idea of having a Corn Hole Tournament (but that's a whole other story), and I happened to talk to a guy who has owned a title company for years, with whom I have a lot of people in common. The subject got around to one of our older friends, a Realtor, an insurance broker, a former CTS bus driver whom everybody knew and liked, a real connector. I hadn't seen him professionally for a few years, and I wondered how he was doing. He's 25 years older than I am, which puts him in his middle 80s. I heard a horror story.
The Realtor/broker/driver/connector had lived in his Cleveland Heights home (a newer one, in 44121) since at least the middle 1970s. He lost it last year at sheriff's sale. He had experienced back problems, had an operation that compounded and worsened the problem (I am told), suffered a loss of income, became encumbered with insurmountable debt, and last year lost his home of over 30 years, when he was 84 years old. Today, we have no idea where to find him. We understand he's alive and in poor health.
Somehow, it just doesn't seem right, it doesn't wash. Who stood up for him, to protect his interests when he got old? What about medical insurance? The plaintiff's bar? Mercy? Clemency? A compassionate life estate in his home?
I probably need to know a lot more, but on the surface, I just don't get it.