My parents are going to my brother's house today. They called a few minutes ago, they couldn't find the house and were hoping I could help them out since I'd been there before, and since my knowledge of Portland proper is much better than theirs.
My brother lives in a neighborhood of run-down houses, just a few blocks north of some severe gentrification. When you are driving north you can literally see the line where the renovations have stopped, and his house is in the next wave. It's a former crack house that he and his girlfriend are fixing up for the landlords, in exchange for crazy-cheap rent, and an opportunity to buy the place for cheap at some point in the future. When I visited they were living on nasty first floor, while renovating the second floor. Then they would primarily move up there so work could commence on the main level. They had painted everything on the second floor and were ready to move up, but the carpet was some of the nastiest stuff I had ever seen. Even nastier than the carpet you find in a house that belongs to college-aged men who drink lots of beer. My brother and I have different ideas of what renovated means, but he's making an effort, and it's a lot nicer than some of the places he's lived before. Given his mental illness I hold him to a much lower standard than I do most other people, and his BASIC needs are being met, so all is good.
The house is of a common layout for Portland. Full basement. First floor has a living room, dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms and one bathroom. All nice sized. The upstairs is nestled into the eaves of the roof, and has an open space plus a couple of bedrooms. However, Sweetie and others of his kind (a.k.a. tall people) have a tough time because they can really only stand up straight in the very center of the house.
My parents were looking for a three story, renovated home. They figured they were lost, because they could not find such a beast on the block they were looking. Turns out they were on the right block, just looking for the house in my brother's eyes, rather than the house as it really exists.
They're there right now. I'm kind of waiting for the next phone call from my mom, when she freaks out about what a dump he's living in.
I didn't disapoint you either did I. It is a dump but at least he has a roof over his head.
Posted by: Sue | 25 April 2007 at 05:35 PM
Yeah, but it's his dump, y'know? As long as the plumbing works and rain isn't pouring in through the ceiling I think he'll be ok. I'll pass this along to my Sweetie, she'll be really happy for him.
Posted by: tommyspoon | 26 April 2007 at 04:55 AM
Way to go, Purcellville! I have a sister who moved there 4 years ago, and she was impressed with how "green conscious" this country town is. She also mentioned that the "powers that be" do a great job of educating the residents and providing community support for their programs.
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