Holtz Realty

With only one pressing appointment today, I was able to finish up my tax preparations so they’re now ready for my appointment with my tax accountant.  It was a bit more of a daunting task again this year because of not only having my own to do, but also my mother’s.  I was saddened while doing hers because it took me back to the time when she was still alive. There were a few times I could see and hear her voice in my mind.  Counting the number of funerals I’ve attended these past twelve months of well knowns, I’m remaining hopeful we don’t loose any more fine minds belonging to our community.  When in her prime, I considered my mother to be a walking calculator as well as having an exceptionally acute memory.  A few of my nieces and nephews came by their mental capacities honestly via my mother.

One of my clients changed his nearly new front and storm doors of his home just recently and asked if I would be interested in them.  I stopped out there yesterday to have a look and gladly agreed to take them.  I did have to borrow a pickup truck this afternoon to pick them up and place in storage.  If I can’t find a use for them, I’m sure one of my clients or customers will be interested.  I do have a house that they’ll likely fit on when I get around to making a few improvements on it.

Over the weekend I talked to a gentleman about 1707 S. Federal which is the restaurant/bar I have listed that’s doing business as “Patricks”.  It certainly should have had at least an offer on it by now simply because of its location.  If I had an inkling to change careers, I would jump at the chance to own it.  I could see it being re-fitted into a more millennial friendly bistro that would offer stellar lunches and lighter evening meals.  I would offer free WiFi, really big TV screens, great drinks, and top notch service.  Because of the size of its parking lot, I would even consider having a drive-thru.  If there were a drive-thru there right now, I’d stop for a take-away lunch.  It gets rather boring after a while going to the same old drive-thru’s that dot our City.  And of course, it’s always better to patronize our local businesses as much as possible.

I’m really starting to notice the days growing longer now and certainly glad of it.  It’s may sound strange, but the windows at the back of my office don’t get any sun shining thru them for about three months during the winter due to the position of their, and how low the sun hangs in the sky during those months.   About a week ago, I noticed the first rays starting to peek thru for about a half hour.  I’ve grown accustomed to those sunless months and quietly refer to them as my “dark morning months”.

When I was over to the hospital last week and walking down its halls, I began noticing many windowless offices.  I thought how fortunate I am to have real natural light filtering into my office work area.  If I had to be in a windowless office all day and every day, I’d be fit to be tied.  I’m sure those workers have grown accustomed to it, but surely it must have an effect on their attitudes.  Just consider how many millions of people work in their prescribed windowless worlds while busy scurrying along on their custom-fitted and corporate issued gerbil wheels.

It couldn’t have been a more pleasant day to just play catch up.  I even made time to invite a dear client of mine out for breakfast.  Since there’ve been a few transitions in the lives of a several people I’ve grown fond of, I’ve decided to make an extra effort to keep in contact with them.  We just so happened to touch on that very subject during breakfast, and we both agreed that times are changing and it’s best we get started at re-affirming our commitments to community.  As I’ve said before, “If we don’t have a solid community base to fall back on when times get tough, then we’ve not only failed ourselves, but also with those whom we hold dearest.”

One of my clients called about her house being near ready to start showing, but seemed a bit concerned that it won’t sell in a relatively short period of time.  I couldn’t have been more firm by telling her it will likely sell more sooner than later simply because of how much of a shortage there is with homes in the price range of hers. We’ll see who had the most correct outlook these coming weeks.

With all these Executive Orders that are being signed on a near daily basis, I’m staying hopeful there won’t be one signed that’ll cause our real estate market to start tanking.  One of my big worries is the possibility our interest rates will start climbing to where it’ll affect the buying power of first-time homebuyers.  We’ve been very fortunate to have had these lower rates which enabled many buyers the ability to purchase their first homes.  I’m still remembering an article I read in a business weekly several years ago where they talked about the inability to purchase homes of the millions living in our metro areas, and saying it will likely grow all the worse as time passes.  It’s a bit reminiscent of what took place during the Great Depression.

Every week or two, my dear friend from down South gives me a ring.  She called today and the bulk of our conversation centered around what we believed to be the greatest evil in the world which is fear.  I reminded her that it was fear that drove the German people to commit crimes they likely never would’ve considered imaginable had it not been for Adolph Hitler feeding their fears on a daily basis with his most convincing oratoricals.  There always as to be a scapegoat which is used to feed those all consuming flames of evil born out of fear. With Hitler it was the Jews.  Looking at the fear driven evils taking place in our world right now, we can see they’re centered around religious differences, tribal differences, and political differences.  That’s all it takes is a firebrand with a convincing voice to light a match that’ll feed the flames of indifference and hatred.

The absolute highlight of my day was having an opportunity to visit a farm not far from here.  Seeing it at a distance from about a half mile away, I was already starting to fall in “like” with it.  The home was possibly built in the 1880’s, but to my surprise the woodwork had never been painted.  The outbuildings were noticeably distanced from each other to where they each created a visual statement upon the landscape.  My real state of “want” kicked in when I walked into the barn and then up into the hayloft.  Some of the most pleasant memories came rushing back into my thoughts of the days when I was young and playing amongst those aromatic bales of hay.  While driving away I thought, “This was the closest I’ve been to where I felt as if I were standing at the end of the earth where reality meets fantasy.

Another early morning appointment in Manly got me off to the office all the sooner than normal.  On my way up there, I had to smile while noticing ten turkeys close to the highwayout in a harvested corn field pecking away at the ground in search of kernels of corn for breakfast.  I was surprised to see they were all hens and not a gobbler in sight.  When for years only getting a glimpse of them at a distance, seeing them now up close sheds a whole new light on their perceived size.  It seems the turkey population is increasing while the pheasants are decreasing.  Even in Nature, there’s no such thing as the peaceable kingdom, but rather the survival of the fittest.

While showing the home up in Manly, we somehow got on the subject of haunted houses.  I felt compelled to tell the story about a home here in Mason City which stood vacant for a number of years simply because the owner who lived out of State refused to sell it because it was her childhood home.  I remember having called her about twenty years ago, and was given an abrupt “No” when asking if she was interested in selling it.

Reeling forward in time, the home did finally come on the market and yours truly was called by a buyer asking to see it.  I scheduled the appointment and drove there about ten minutes early just to familiarize myself with the place since I’d never before been within.  The moment I walked in the front door that’s all I can distinctly remember was its creepiness.   If someone were to ask me to put a name on my first impression, I would freely say, “A great sadness was alive there.”  When the buyers showed up, I couldn’t seem to mask my real feelings because the husband walked up to me and said, “I’m getting the impression you really don’t like this house.”  All I could say was, “There’ve been only a few homes in Mason City that I can sense there being something out of sync, and this one fits the bill.”  Then of course the ten thousand questions started regarding it being “out of sync”.

Since I couldn’t seem to convince them how many thousands of dollars would be needed to bring the home up to speed, I finally said, “This would be the last house I would buy because I can sense some sort of invisible entity, and it’s not at all happy we’re here.”  Of course then came the, “Where in here do you feel it the most?”  Trying to get them off my back I finally said, “It’s all over in here, but the real “bitch slap” I got was when I opened the attic door.”  Thank goodness they finally decided enough was enough about a home they really weren’t interested in.

Did the house sell?  Yes, it sold.  Did the new owners get it fixed up?  Yes they did.  Was I ever in it since?  No I wasn’t.  Did I hear rumors about strange things happening at that address years later? Yes I did.  Do I believe it’s still there?  Yes, I believe it’s still lurking in the shadows beyond that attic door.  While writing about my experience in that house tonight, I’ve now resurrected those very same goosebumps.  Don’t we all wish we could flip a switch on those unpleasant memories from our past?

Alas the temperature got well above freezing today and hopefully it will continue long enough to get rid of those dirty piles of snow around our City.  Along with everyone else, I’ll be dancing for joy by the time Spring arrives.  Speaking of Spring, I had to run to Shopko to pick up another plastic storage bin, and while walking down an aisle, I noticed they already had several kiosks out that were filled with garden seed packets.  I dare say it’s a bit early for even the most forward thinkers.  I do hope we have more of our residents planting gardens this year.  It’s a win/win situation all the way round.  They’ll be able to get some much needed exercise along with having fresh homegrown veggies to eat.

One of my clients who’s working on a getting a home ready for the market called this morning asking if I’d stop over and take a look at his progress.  I did have some free time, so I drove over to see what had been done since I was there.  I previously mentioned how homes have their own distinct smell.  Well, when I walked into that home, I noticed its smell had changed.  After seeing all the layers of wallpaper now gone from the ceilings and walls, it was confirmed that distinct smell was coming from those old layers of paper.  I couldn’t have complimented him enough knowing how tedious and time consuming it was to get those layers of wallpaper off—especially knowing the paper had been painted.  Looking at those freshly cleaned plaster walls I said to the owner, “I’ll never understand why people years ago were so possessed with papering completely good plaster walls.”   “Yeah, and I don’t think I’ll be doing this again anytime soon.”, he said.   Whomever ends up with his project home when it’s listed, will be tickled to have such a well built and custom designed home to show off to their friends and relatives.  I reminded the owner again how I’d never seen a floor plan like it in all the years I’ve been selling real estate.  It’s truly a unique beauty in our City.

I was delighted to find the Globe Gazette having written that very nice article about Frances Hoffman in today’s newspaper.  It saddened me again while reading it because when they were talking about her career, I started having flashbacks to those years.  I mentioned to someone today how even though she was exceptionally intelligent, she’d never play the part of a “know it all”.  Just now in my mind, I can still hear her infectious laughter.  When being in one of my clever moods and get her started laughing, the more she’d laugh, I’d all the more say things that would tickle her funny bone.  I’m sure there’ll be a long line of visitors paying their respects at her memorial tomorrow afternoon.

There was quite a happenstance that took place while Downtown today.  Since I had to stop at the card shop, I figured I would run over to another store where a dear past customer works in hopes she working.  Luckily I found her.  We brought each other up to speed with what’s been happening in our lives over these last ten months.  I happened to glance to my left and noticed the very client I’d planned on calling today. My surprise was equalled by both her and her husband’s.  What became all the more creepy was my running into them again at another store clear across town.  The wife said laughingly, “I’m starting to believe you’re stalking us.”  But the creepiest of all, was her telling me they’d just come from another store that I then admitted I was at the same time they were.  All I can say is, it appeared all three of our minds were working in the same furrow which reminded me today that tonight is going to be a very special full moon.

My day was filled with a great sadness from hearing this morning of a dear and long time friend of mine’s passing.  Many in North Iowa may have crossed paths with her over the years, and will certainly consider as I have, that we’ve lost another fine mind.  The deceased of whom I speak was Frances Hoffman.

Our first encounter came when her parents asked that I show her homes here in Mason City because she decided to move back to her hometown.  From the first time we met which was over 25 years ago, I think we both considered ourselves to have discovered a kindred spirit.  We continued to stay in touch with each other long after the purchase and sale of her first home, her second, and then her third.  She was married and then divorced during those years, but we still managed to continue on with our friendship.

If there would be but one word to describe her core, I would say it was “justice”.  No matter what any situation looked like on the outside, she was always the one who’d look more closely at its causality.  Was she intelligent?  I’d say when brains were passed out, she received a second helping for good measure.  There were very few subjects of which she knew little.  In fact, I used to smile to myself whenever I would find a very good read and then forward it on to her.  She would later always send a soulful thank you note for sharing another book which broadened her knowledge all the more.

One of her passions was gardening.  Sometimes she’d call and ask about a certain problem she was having growing this or that, as well as how to keep pests from eating her vegetables.  I’ll never forget the laughs we had one day when she was nearly beside herself having found the rabbits and squirrels wrecking havoc with her precious all natural vegetable garden.  I smiled and said, “Well you know.  There’s one fail-safe method to keep them out.”  “What?” she said excitedly.  I started giggling while saying, “I’m sure you have one of your grandparent’s chamber pots stored away somewhere.” “Yes I do.” she interjected.  I continued by saying, “Start collecting your urine and every night go out to your garden and pour it all around its perimeter to the point where you’ve created a barrier.  You’ll only have to repeat it whenever we have a heavy rain.”  She looked at me wide-eyed and said, “Joe! Do you have any idea what my neighbors would think of me circling my garden with a chamber pot in hand while creating a “water” line with a yellowish liquid?   I roared with laughter and said, “Well, at least they’d know you’re recycling your pee!”

Yes, there were many laughs we had together, and even a few tears to boot.  But that’s what real friendships are made of.  We lived thru each other’s peaks and valleys and watched the both of us becoming all the better citizens of earth.  I’m still numbed from the news of her passing, and I’m sure it’ll take some days for me to accept it.  Even though she left us without a farewell, at least her preferred form of death was given—quickly and quietly.

There always seems to be an “uplift” whenever someone enters into conversation with me about being loving and forgiving.  It all started when someone sent me a page out of one of those new-age guides to spirituality and asked that I read it in hopes that I shared the same belief.  I read it and thought about it, and then sent an email back to that person with my own review.

The thrust of that day’s reading was how we should continue to forgive, forgive, and forgive, even all the more with those who’ve hurt us on numerous occasions.  In my return email I said, “I work very hard to forgive each and every person for what they’ve done to me, along with wishing them well, only as long as they stay as far away from me as possible—but no farther.  We are humans which makes us all sort of “fallen angels” who’ll really never “get it” completely right during these short years we have on this God forsaken planet we call earth.  But, on the bright side, we still can, if we choose, work at becoming that perfection of total purity that’ll always be just out of our reach.

I went on to say in my email how if we continue to have bad people in our close circles doing sinful things to us as well as others and forgiving them every time we discover one more hurt, then we are in fact allowing ourselves to become spiritual, mental, and sometimes physical masochists, and that’s nothing anyone wants to be proud of when writing home.  Can you imagine a young college student penning a short letter to her mother saying, “Hey Mom. I thought I’d let you know my new boyfriend is teaching me the finer points of masochism and I’m really starting to enjoy it.”  Sounds like too many have joined the herd that’s fallen in love with “Fifty Shades of Grey”.

Not but a few hours later, I received a two word text from the sender of that email which said, “You’re right!”  I’ll no longer be fearful the sender will go so overboard with forgiveness that the real respect and love of self will be lost.  That email back and forth and the final text was my “uplift” for possibly my week.  These past years I’ve seen a huge falling backwards with the basic respect people in society have for each other and I don’t like it—especially when I find it happening within the crowds of our young.  I’m still in disbelief how many young women allow themselves to be treated by their boyfriends. I’ve personally seen and heard it right here in River City.

One of my colleagues called today asking if I would help get the word out about a quiet fund drive that’s taking place for a very young 1^st Grade teacher at Newman Elementary.  Not long ago this highly regarded and much loved teacher was diagnosed as having had a grand mal seizure.  From what I understand, she had more than one foot over death’s doorstep to where many thought she wouldn’t make it.  She’s now on a slow road to recovery and her medical bills are now piling up.  There’s been an account opened at First Citizen’s Bank for people to donate any amount they can freely spare.  I understand that all three bank locations here will take donations, and that’s all you have to do is ask that it be deposited into Ms. Hutchison the teacher from Newman’s “Help Fund” account.  I’ll be stopping over to the Downtown branch tomorrow to make my own donation.  A very sad story which I’m confident will have a happy ending.

Today was finally warm enough along with the roads being dried off, to go and get my filthy car washed.  These past weeks of slushy roads have been brutal in dirtying up North Iowa’s cars and trucks.  Last week I used up at least a ½ gallon of windshield wiper fluid just to keep the grimy slush that other cars were splatting on my vehicle as they drove past.  At least it’s clean now and hopefully will stay that way for a few days.

Most of my day was spent at the office performing necessary monthly accounting.  I thought I’d at least get started with sorting out my tax stuff so I could really dig into it every free hour or so, but unfortunately there were statements to balance and bills to pay along with getting requested correspondence out to clients.  As I was leaving, I looked back at that large worktable in my conference room and was at least pleased to see I had readied it for some real marathon work to be done.

Nearly everyone has their mode of doing work, but mine is to have work areas free of things that can easily create distractions.  Whenever I walk into offices and see piles of files and folders on desks I think, “How is it possible they can concentrate on any given project?”  Oh well, there are always those who seem to work better in chaos rather than in more regimented fashion—not!  There’s one little quirk I’ve always had, and that’s taking notes, therefore my spindle is filled with bits of information that’s easily accessible when needed.  I think many of our young must similarly create little tickler files on their tablets.  I’m not so sure I’d like having all my resource information digitalized.  There’s always that “what if” should computer files get destroyed.

Since I’d been hungry for sauerkraut these last days, I thought I’d run over to HyVee and see if they still carried the type that’s in jars.  I was surprised to find they still had it, but when looking at the price of a jar that wasn’t but 3/4’s of a quart, I began to walk away.  I stopped myself and thought, “I’ll go ahead and pay the $8.29 for this jar, but it had better be worth it.” When I got back to my office, I decided to open it and have a taste.  Well, it was good, and very much tasted like what my mother used to make nearly every year, but not spectacular considering the price I paid.

This is one more reason why many of us who’ve got the wherewithal to have our own gardens, should consider growing our own vegetables and start experimenting with home canning, freezing, drying, and fermentation.  Believe me, if and when you become good at fermentation, your pickles, sauerkraut, and beets will taste just as good or better than what was in that less-than-a-quart jar I just paid $8.29 for today.

I happened to run into one of my relatives on my mother’s side today whom I’d not seen in a while.  While talking about family as well as world events, we both came to the conclusion the “tilting at windmills” is growing in popularity.  Unfortunately it’s not because of poor vision as in “Don Quixote”, but rather their burning needs to be noticed in all their bad ways.