Ghostrification

This month will mark five years since I moved into my current house and in that time six people on my street have died, or on average one every ten months.  A couple of qualifiers:  My street is actually three contiguous blocks so it’s long with about fifty homes on it.  Even so, that’s over 10% of the residences that have been paid a visit by the grim reaper.  And while my previous street had half that many homes, I can only think of four neighbors who passed away in the nearly 27 years I lived there.  Also of note, of the six who are no longer members of the neighborhood association one was 102, one was six months shy of her 100th birthday and another was 96.  The youngest was a fellow who I would’ve estimated to be in his mid forties, a diabetic and an alcoholic and drove an Audi I dubbed “the whiskey wagon” due to the fact that it was less than two years old and had dents in all four fenders.  He also enjoyed yelling at me to get my attention when he saw me out front and would then come over and stand in my driveway holding a plastic cup filled with red Gatorade and vodka and tell me how much he didn’t like my house.  Love thy neighbor and all that, but in his case the epitaph, “He did it to himself” would not have been undeserved.

Two of my neighbors passed away just last week, one of whom was a speaking acquaintance and the other I didn’t know at all.  And if I understood the news report from Gene, our de facto block captain and trash cart whisperer who has lived on this street since childhood, they died on the same day.  Something else they had in common was that both of their houses were listed for sale recently and both were under contract at the time of their passing.  Also, both homes were marketed as teardowns.  So not only are the homeowners gone, their homes will be as well in fairly short order.  

One of the hot topics in Austin real estate these days is gentrification; older modest homes, many of which have fallen into disrepair and located in central neighborhoods, are torn down and replaced with much larger, more expensive homes that change the character of the neighborhood. Full disclosure:  I live in an abode that is in the much-maligned style of the urban or modern white “farmhouse”.  I’m fine with it and so are my neighbors.  I figure that when I get older and become REALLY eccentric as opposed to my current level of only being mildly so, I’ll paint the exterior a vivid shade of cerise thereby giving rise to a whole new generation of haters who will come stand in my driveway sipping their IPAs and telling me how much they dislike my house.

The recent turn of events on my street got me thinking that there is one group that has been largely left out of discussions on the displacement caused by gentrification: dead homeowners.  Has anyone thought about the impact that tearing down the homes of the recently deceased is having on the haunted housing market? They have not. What if you had made plans after shuffling off your mortal coil to come back and haunt the people who bought your house only to find out that it’s no longer there?  Where do you go? Would you check in to a hotel and haunt the guests staying there?  Somehow I don’t think knocking things over in a strange place would be nearly as satisfying as it would be doing it in your former home. Maybe move in with your kids?  Newsflash: If you couldn’t get them to change their behavior to suit you while you were alive you’re going to be even less effective at it when you’re dead.  Go ahead and adjust the thermostat because you think it’s turned down too low in the middle of the summer and they’re wasting energy.  They’ll just come right behind you and turn it back down but this time they can’t see your disapproving looks so what’s the point?

And fair warning to whoever buys my house if it’s still standing when I take my leave:  Your interior design game better be on point because if it’s not that “thunk” you hear in the middle of the night will be me taking those floor height resin candlesticks you bought on sale at Home Goods and throwing them in the closet.