Stories are coming out about city people moving to rural and small towns. Two kinds are doing this: people with an income that doesn’t require them to be present, or as we used to call them, “coupon clippers,” usually meaning stock market investors. We’ve learned recently (again) that this is actually gambling. But then, farmers and ranchers are always gamblers. Gambling is just part of being human, right?
The other kind of people are poor and looking for a low-cost, low-rent sort of place where they can make a little money by service jobs or repair gigs. They would receive the same federal supports as they did in the city, but the hope is that they will go a lot farther.
Twenty years ago I moved to a village and a $30,000 house. This means that, putting aside the taxes, I’ve been paying $1,500 a year for rent, compared to $395 a month for an equally run-down apartment in Portland. Here’s a list of what I knew and what I learned.
1. However much you pay for a house, you’d better put aside the same amount of money for maintenance later. Part of the reason is that it’s liable to be an old house. A house that low cost might have sheltered an old person right out to their end, which will work better if they have willing relatives who will put in some labor when the old person can no longer maintain.
Another part is that such a house has probably been owned by someone who considered it a rental and knew that renters don’t stay long, are not inclined to put money into a house they don’t own, and can’t afford to be picky about appliances that are marginal or about lack of insulation, etc. If they have decided to sell, they are inclined to disguise shortcomings or make temporary repairs. Expect to do a lot of things yourself. YouTube is very helpful.
2. People will come as professional assessors to give you a readout of major problems and advise you about whether or not to buy. I once knew one of these people and he told me that most assessors are corrupt, that they will adjust their opinions according to what the seller wants said. He was a bitter man who said he never succeeded in this role because he always told the truth. I presume that he wasn’t quite right.
3. Taxes will be based on the opinion of a county assessor who may never enter the premises but merely drive by, reacting to curbside appeal. They do not like being questioned.
4. It’s a good thing to learn the history of the building. This one was built on spec by a barber in the Thirties as one of a pair who began just alike, but gradually became different because of add-ons and differing tastes. This means that it was not “over-built” so that spacing and wood sizes were only adequate.
At some point, the house next door was expanded by developing the small attic into enough space for a bedroom. This required the installation of a steel beam which lowered the ceilings through the house. The house I’m in was expanded by an attempt to dig out a basement, but this caused one one wall to collapse.
Recovery meant a weak wall and a dirt space tall enough to stoop in and put the water heater down there, plus a floor heater that hangs into the space and adds weight. This means that, as one plumber put it, “Your house is sinking.” This is how I learned about “house jacks” which can be ten or twelve feet long. But my house is still sinking because I don’t have the money to get it adjusted and I’m too old now to do it myself.
5. Most help from tradesmen in places like this is self-taught by experience rather than certified by training. This means it’s cheaper, depends a lot on brute force and opinion, and will not be insured or any of that other fancy stuff. The best people will be nearly overwhelmed by the demand because these small towns on the prairie are all about a hundred years old. But no one likes to work on old houses. New construction is preferred, which is fine if you’re a successful coupon clipper.
6. Infrastructure, like water and sewer, is about a hundred years old, either too much or too little for the present size of the settlement. At the same time the state keeps busy with engineer inspectors who constantly require improvements. No sewage lagoon is big enough, no one kept records of where the sewer and water lines were installed, and what’s really down there is always a surprise because grounds shifts and because people improvise. In a seasonal kind of place — snowbirds leaving in winter — there is constant wrestling over turning the amenities on or off. Internet support — huh?
When I bought this house it had just been flooded again because of cold bursting the water intake for the second time. It was March so it had seemed safe for it to be unheated. It was only dirt and only had to be pumped out and dried. Luckily it didn’t buckle the floors but soaked all the carpets which were all removed. Thus a low price.
7. Someone points out that the most crucial part of any environment is other humans. This has always been true. I am a solitary and wish to be left alone. This town will allow that, though there are always eyes on me, noting whether the lights go on and off, whether my pickup moves, whether I collect my mail, what’s in my trash. No one reads my blog or quite figures out what I’m about now. Some remember me from the Sixties. I have old enemies here from fifty years ago. Part of this town is not “Indian friendly” but one-third of the town IS Indian. My stepdaughter, my age, was a young mother here; for some this is a plus, for others it’s a minus. She left after the Big Flood, an unhealed subject.
I thought this house would last about twenty years and that I had about twenty years to live. But I’ve outlived this plan. Now we’re in a pandemic and I may die next week, in more debt than this house will compensate. All bets are off, but it worked for a while.
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