Tag Archives: politics

Occupied Day 19

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Here’s how these things work:

The lawyer sends a letter to the person unlawfully in the property. He gives a specific date to leave by, or be evicted. The person either leaves, or doesn’t.

The “leave by” date can be as soon as five days if the person owes rent, or two weeks, which is considered reasonable by most courts. These times vary according to case specifics.

Then the lawyer (or landlord, but I’m using a lawyer) goes to the General Court and gets an eviction notice. This part gets interesting. If you don’t put an amount of money the person unlawfully in your place needs to pay as damages, you can get caught in something you don’t see coming. This is what happened to me the first time when I filed by myself without legal help.

A person who is evicted by the general court has about 10 days to get out, depending on circumstances. But if they want to appeal in Circuit Court, they can pay the damages and then appeal. So if you don’t put any damages down, they can appeal immediately and those cases can spin for literally months, said the nice lady at the General Court. She’s the one who explained I would need to seek damages. That became a catch-22, but her advice was sound.

So now we go back to court on Monday, and file for a court date to serve a formal eviction. This close to the holidays, we are hoping for before Christmas, but we shall see. Last time I got one within 10 days, which was a pleasant surprise. But because my earlier letter telling the guy to do the work or leave didn’t mention money, the judge ruled that the eviction didn’t match the original letter and shouldn’t have been served. So we had to start over.

Now that it’s all been done with proper legal attention (and fees paid) we go to court pretty close to Christmas, and all being correct he should be out for the New Year.

I have sage waiting to smudge the place. And prayers for new beginnings for all of us.

Honestly, I feel for the guy. He’s blown so many of his chances, and now he’s blowing this. Big time. I would have used the thousand dollars I gave the lawyer to get him into a shelter housing place. But not now. This has to end.

We can talk more about the details later, but that’s the legal skinny at this time.

And the number of people who have contacted my privately, or stopped me in town, and said, “This happened to me/my mother/my son” is astounding. That’s why I am documenting the emotions and activities now, and why I’ll probably pitch this as a book later. It’s a near universal experience: invite somebody in, and they turn out to be the big bad wolf dressed as grandma. Be careful out there. Compassion and carefulness don’t need to be at odds with each other.

For Those Who Have Ears to Hear

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My day job took me to DC. I’m on the 12th floor of a hotel, looking out over the city, which had a snowstorm. Overnight, it looked like the little pellets inside a snow globe, and in the lamplight as I watched the snow fly, it was beautiful.

I stood looking out my hotel room window, and thought, “There are two men out there who have done the same, only with acquisition on their minds. They don’t see a strange mix of buildings and beauty; they see something they feel they own.”

Tuesday, the meetings I attended talked about how to talk to the legislators regarding rural health policy (think the sexy topics of Medicare and Medicaid) which we will do today. I am at the National Rural Health Association’s annual Policy Institute, since you ask.

Tuesday, several men in suits told us which words to avoid, which words to focus on. What no one discussed much was, how do you talk to people who work for someone who considers us serfs? Who looks out over the city and doesn’t think, “how can I make this place better,” but “how much can I enrich myself from this place?”

Maybe we didn’t discuss it because there is no way to get into that mindset and come out whole.

There was one interesting group discussion. Someone pointed out that “rural health” can be framed as a national security issue. If we can’t make them feel compassion for the loss of places where women can go to have babies, perhaps we can shock them with the potential loss of their own safety and security? We supply the food, the raw materials that become power (as in electricity, don’t stretch that into a metaphor, k thanks?). We supply the soldiers that fight wars and “keep” peace. Rural is vital to the proper functioning of the United States.

Mmhmm. Today is the day we go talk to the elected men (and some women) in suits, who work for the men in suits looking out their windows at what they believe they own. Those elected ones, they must be in some confusion at the moment. One hopes. It depends on why decided to occupy an office in the capital in first place. Did they believe they could make the world a better place, or that they could better their worlds? That they could do both with integrity and good results?

Moral high ground is slippery, and sometimes it walks through dark valleys. Good luck, elected officials. You’re going to need it.

But so are we, the grass roots non-profits and other care providers who find ourselves suddenly framing arguments without using certain words, and shining bright lights on how lucrative we are to their agenda. We’re being drawn into their kind of fight, and it would be naïve to believe that we can refuse to do that with any good results for the people counting on us to get them care.

I am praying to hold onto some integrity, intelligence, and a sense of humor today. Humility may come in handy, too. When people speak different dialects, you need to speak theirs to get things done. It’s called code switching, changing your accent and vocabulary to make communication more clear. It doesn’t usually have a moral component.

Except this time. Here we go.