All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.
~~~
"So, what did you decide?" Ike pinned me down with a hard look.
"I guess I'm going to do it."
"That doesn't sound like the author of
Hardcore Investing
talking. A lot of hesitation in that answer."
"I haven't signed anything yet, but I'm going to check the place one more time before I sign."
"Sounds like a good idea. How far is it up there to where you're buying?"
"About two-hundred-forty miles, I think."
"That's a pretty good trip, isn't it?"
"Five and a half hours, so it's a trip, but I need someplace to run away and hide. Moving at near light speed all the time was cool at first, but I'm not aiming to be a billionaire, so I'm planning to take some time off to try to relax a little."
"Do you think your brain will let you slow down that much?"
I laughed. "I guess I'll find out, won't I?"
"When are you taking off?"
"About noon, I think. You're in charge, and I'm available for emergencies. Emergencies," I repeated, as I had begun to cherish my time away from the business.
The first three or four years after starting the financial planning business had been twenty-four/seven, it seemed, until my reputation for picking winners and avoiding losers spread, and I'd hired Ike and then four others, hoping that things might slow down a little. They didn't seem to until I realized that it was me that wasn't allowing myself to slow down. I vowed to myself to change that, step one being the purchase of a vacation home, cottage, or cabin in the Adirondacks. It should give me a chance to get away from New York and all things New Yorkish.
I needed to get going.
The over five-hour drive gave me time to think, and thinking about business was forbidden. This was my second trip to Adcock Village. On the first, I'd realized that I did not have billionaire aspirations, and I was suspicious that there was more to life than financial planning. I'd been raised in a modest middle-class family and had been introduced to the stock market by a high school teacher which had changed my life. I wondered as I headed toward the mountains if some of the important things from my early life might return.
I'd booked a room at the inn since I didn't own anything in Adcock Village as of now. That all could change tomorrow, though. I checked in and grabbed a delicious dinner in the inn's dining room. In my room, I checked my accounts to ensure things were in order for tomorrow's probable transactions. I'd put $377,000 dollars in the account I'd use to pay for the house. I had two other similar accounts, along with stock and bond accounts. Two years ago, I'd stopped keeping a running summation of all the accounts. It just seemed too self-centered and miserly. I had no set-in-stone financial goals but just tried to ensure I did things in the best possible way. The results would be what they were. A couple of innings watching women's college softball, and I was asleep.
Saturday dawned, and the sun shining through the window was my alarm for the morning. I could tell it would be a beautiful day, and I could hardly wait to get started.
Breakfast at the inn was as delicious as dinner had been the night before, and I smiled that I had an excellent eating place within easy walking distance of my probable purchase. After breakfast, I headed to the real estate office to sign the final papers and then to sleep in the new place tonight. Arrangements had been made that, as long as I paid the money to the real estate office today, I could take immediate possession. Closing would be in a couple of weeks.
Lots of smiles at the real estate office as the appropriate papers were signed and notarized, and the money was transferred from my account to theirs. The keys were handed to me, each one attached to the appropriate keyring compliments of the real estate company.
I thanked the people involved, acknowledged their congratulations for my astute purchase, and was quickly at my new abode. I pulled into the driveway, grabbed my suitcase, and went inside. I called the inn to cancel my just-in-case reservation for tonight and looked around. Everything seemed to be in order, and I lay back in the lounger, trying to decide whether or not to venture to the lake for a swim.
I was just getting up to change my clothes when the doorbell chimed. I opened the door and smiled at the pleasant-looking gentleman standing there.
"Hello, there," he said brightly. "You must be very new here as I don't have a name on my list for this address."
"Very new. I just took possession this morning, and I'm Blayne Forsythe."
"Wonderful," he replied, "and I'm Emerson Whitlatch, a member of the Home Owners Association."
I decided I was getting a special welcoming as he handed me a rather large packet of papers, carefully joined in a bright red cover.
"This is our association's complete listing of rules and regulations. You might want to become familiar with them." Another big smile.
It wasn't the New York telephone directory, but it was much thicker than I'd imagined an HOA's book might be.
"I'll have to do that," I said, returning his smile.
"And just to get you started," he said, stepping away from the door and beckoning me to follow, "I'm afraid your car isn't permitted to be parked here near the front of the driveway. You may park in the driveway, but at the back, adjacent to the garage."
I looked from Mr. Whitlatch to my car and, finally, to the driveway at the rear of the lot near the garage.
"You're shitting me," I said, looking again at the well-dressed and elderly gentleman addressing me.
He looked slightly taken aback. "It's in the rule booklet you have there. We don't want the area to appear to be a parking lot. I'm sure you can understand."
My brain was struggling to understand, and I finally decided I could learn to park near the garage or in the garage if that's what I had to do.
I chuckled. "I guess I can handle that."
"And there's a second thing. You have no mailbox," he said, gesturing to the empty spot that at the other residences was filled by a mailbox.
I'd noticed that before "I saw that, and since I'm a graduate of Columbia, I thought I'd get a mailbox to celebrate that."
Mr. Whitlatch raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Forsythe. There are only two mailboxes approved for use here," he said, this time gesturing across the street.
"So, let's see. There's one that has a white mailbox with a tan stand, and there's one that has a tan mailbox with a white stand. Is that correct?"
"Very astute, Mr. Forsythe. That is correct."
"So you're looking for conformity, then?"
"We prefer to call it uniformity."
"So, what if tomorrow I decided to paint the entire house bright orange?" I decided to be a little obnoxious.
He took a deep breath. "Well, there is a list of approved colors in the manual, and anything outside of that has to go before the HOA board."
"Listen, thanks for your help, um, Mr. Whitlatch. I need to read the manual, and we'll probably be seeing each other in the future."
"Welcome to Adcock Village, Mr. Forsythe. And, if you could, get that mailbox taken care of quickly. Otherwise, your mail will have to be delivered to the office which is an inconvenience for everyone involved."
"I'll try to do that. I assume those mailboxes are readily available."
"Yes, from the general store. Listen, I could take care of getting that done for you, and the charges could be added to your monthly HOA fee."
"That would be wonderful if you could do that. I'll be heading back to New York soon."
My visitor disappeared, and I stood looking out the front window at the missing mailbox. I glanced over at the car and ran outside quickly, moving it to the back by the garage. What had I gotten myself into? I'd laughed at horror stories about HOAs, but now I was part of one. Maybe, instead of swimming, I should read the manual.
After a few pages of reading minuscule details about paint, gardens, and decorations, I decided that swimming was a better use of my time. I put on my swim trunks, grabbed a towel, and slipped on my flip-flops. The lake was a quarter mile away, and it was a hot day. Numerous golf carts passed me on my hike, and I decided I needed to check into that.
At last, I arrived at the edge of the sandy beach. It wasn't Times Square on New Year's Eve, but it looked to be close. I think that everyone in Adcock Village was at the beach. I was determined to get to the water, and after ten minutes of twisting and turning, I was successful. Of course, I still had the flip-flops on my feet and the towel over my shoulder. Obviously, I wasn't about to enjoy a casual swim, so I wrapped the towel around my head, waded out to shoulder depth, then back again. More twisting and turning, and I was back where I'd started.
I shuffled back to my house, and after my first couple of hours at Adcock Village, I wondered if I'd made a big mistake. I was trying to get away from New York and its rigidity, and I'd stumbled into someplace almost worse. I'd have to see.
"So, Boss, how was the weekend, and did everything go okay with the new house?" Ike was there early and waiting for me.
"Papers were signed, money was paid, and I spent part of two days in the new house. The house is great, just like New York."
"I thought you wanted to get away from New York."
"Sort of, I guess. It is away and different."
"You don't sound overly enthusiastic."
"I'll just have to see."
~~~
In the next three months, I visited the house three times. I found my new mailbox in place -- white top with a tan bottom. I parked the car in the garage when I was there; I avoided buying an electric golf cart -- the gasoline-powered ones were too noisy, and I also avoided the lake. The meals at the inn were the saving grace of the weekends.
I was trying to evaluate whether I was enjoying my
time away
, and it wasn't making a lot of sense to me.
"So, Boss, another weekend away. How was it?"
"Eh, it's different from normal."
"Blayne, come on. This is Ike, your friend, talking. When we talked about this before, you wanted it to be totally different from New York, Totally different, and I emphasize, TOTALLY. What you've done doesn't seem to come close to that."
My first reaction was to disagree with Ike, but I quickly changed from that approach. He was disgustingly right. What I had done was basically move my New York life to a new location, and I'd spent $377,000 to do it. It wasn't what I was after at all.
"Ike, I think you're right. I need to do a little more thinking and planning."
That afternoon, I sat in my office with a clean sheet of paper and a pencil with a new eraser and crafted a list that included the very opposites of what my life was like now. After two hours, I looked at it, amazed, and wondered if I had the guts to make it happen. Once more, I'd have to see.
"Good morning, Blayne. It's always pleasant to get a call from you.?
"That's because when I call, it usually ends up making money for you," I answered, laughing.