My Dad Can Beat Up Your Dad…and Other Tales

By Kelly Sinon

I opened my eyes and felt a new feeling I wasn’t familiar with and I was…smiling. Smiling, first thing in the morning?  I took tally of my “Things to Fret About” file in my head and realized that I must have dragged and dropped it into the recycle bin ( A. because ...well, Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. And B. because I am me, I know it’s probably going to be short-lived. I was proven right, because ten minutes later, while reveling in this new feeling, it was somehow replaced by anxiety that I had nothing to be anxious about.).

The last couple of weeks, I have been Full of Fret (I know I could have said fretful here, but this sounds a lot more significant and dramatic… and really, since no one is editing me).

Dad had undergone shoulder replacement surgery and had had some pretty serious (although, if you ask him, “not that bad”) complications after, which put the near constant anxiety of the final word about our loan modification on hold.

Dad is 67, looks 57 and behaves likes he’s 27, still enjoying car racing and playing with cars. After he came home from surgery, a few days later, he was back in the hospital, thanks to his wife Carolyn not taking no for an answer, with a raging infection, and throat issues from an intubation gone wrong. Not able to eat, drink, or even speak well, he was still able to convey that he “didn’t need any help”, which on one hand was par for the course. He never needs help with anything (is that 8-year old me, bragging that her Dad is the biggest, strongest man in the world and could beat up your Dad? Probably.). On the other hand, my adult (?) self was very qualified to help him now, and it frustrated me that all I could do was walk their dog.

A week later, Dad was discharged almost none the worse for wear and recovering quickly. I teased him that I missed the sound of his voice, but it was really true. It was good to see him eating, drinking, and laughing , standing and looking tall to me again when they came over for dinner last night.

Sometime during all of this, we’d gotten the word that we were approved for our loan modification. It was a long ride, but at the end of it, all I could imagine was a new dishwasher (the bank was not getting my new dishwasher) , new floors (and dare I dream- new kitchen counters?), Katie, bringing home her future husband and Kirk walking down the stairs in a tux, on his way to the Prom. Did you notice that the dishwasher was number one on my list? Yeah, me too.

So, if it’s possible, I am going to embrace this Much Ado About Nothing anxiety. With a 27-year old father, two kids and a pretty self-contained husband, I am sure it will quickly be replaced with Much Ado About Everything in the Entire World anxiety. It’s okay…that feeling, I’m familiar with.

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Kelly Sinon will continue to live in Gilroy with her family. She can be reached at sksinon@aol.com

Why Personal Set-Backs Shouldn't Define Us

By Kelly Sinon


I am Kelly. I am a lover of bacon and derivative humor; the more sophomoric, the better. I am a recovering Band Geek and self-professed Clean Freak and yet my closet is an avalanche in the making. I like dogs, but will never own one again. I dislike People who think The World Is Out To Get Them and Everyone In It Is A Schmuck. I am a big believer in Everything Will Work Itself Out. As Long As We Are Informed.  Oh…And Smile, Smile, Smile!

This is where I am running into trouble. I’m smiling, but it makes my teeth hurt now.  I am going to bed too late and waking up too early.  I hadn’t made the connection until this morning, when for the second day in a row, on a much-coveted weekend, I woke up before everyone else.

The thoughts that pull me from sleep are the same ones that have me staring into blackness at 1:00 A.M.

“What next?” even though I already know the answer. I know the answer, because as much as having to start your life over because of foreclosure is out of your control, it’s so much more reassuring to know the process. What to expect. To be informed.  At least that was the theory. I have researched and poured over various websites. Precious few address the emotional issues that accompany this course of action.

With one hand, the bank rejected the loan modification application, while with the other, we get telephone calls from them, “wanting to help.” More infuriating than I can even put words to, but I am someone who wants to be proactive.  Okay, so that didn’t work, what’s the next step? Short Sale.

My mood goes from complete despair to hopeful optimism and back, at an alarming speed. At this point, I just want to “get ‘er done” and start over, but there’s a course of action. Even for failure.   

And as I write the word, “failure”, I see its starkness, and finality, but two years from now, this will be a memory; a not so pleasant one, but a memory. I will have done more, seen more, laughed more and hopefully cried less.     

There is some comfort in the fact that I am not alone, and that we are a casualty of the economy, rather than greed. Millions of people are right where we are now. There were millions before and will be millions after, each with our own stories of how we got here.

What doesn’t change is who we are. I will still love bacon, and hum the saxophone part to Battle Hymn of the Republic.  And once I’ve dusted myself off, I will still be a big believer in Everything Will Work Itself Out. As Long As We Are Informed.  Oh…And Smile, Smile, Smile!

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Kelly Sinon can be reached at sksinon@aol.com                                                                                                                                                                        

A Group Fast Becoming the Silent Majority...Homes in Jeopardy.

By Kelly Sinon

A paraphrased version of the old TV campaign for the Marines comes to mind.

 “Join the Not-So-Few, The Even-Less-Proud. The Foreclosed.”

The home I have loved for the last six years is fast becoming the anvil around my neck, as I feel my family’s financial future pulling me deeper into an abyss of uncertain lender waters; navigating the uncharted territory of loan modification forms and the ever-nagging question, “Now what?”

Like most people, I go to work every day, and pay my bills on time. But the mortgage could start slipping.

Before you say, “Well, how many credit cards did you max out?” or “Bet your car payments are a killer,”

We have no debt. No car payments and no, no ARM.; only this huge albatross (If you want to call 1,477 square feet huge).

My hours have not changed, but I’ve taken a small pay cut I have yet to get back, if ever. My husband’s hours at his company have fallen sharply over the last four years. We’ve managed.  But it’s become apparent as our home’s value has dipped, and we are not earning any more, holding onto the house just might not be possible or even worth the fight, in the end.

You might be asking yourself why I would want to talk about this in public; lay my financial soul bare. But, I see first-hand what it looks like on paper to lose your home. And behind each document, there is a family’s struggle. A struggle no one talks about, out of shame and embarrassment.

Pages and pages of Trustee Sale Notices fill the newspaper, making something we wish would be private, so public, as it announces that each home will be sold at auction.  There is small comfort in the knowledge, that sadly, we are hardly alone.

Irony abounds in our scenario. I won’t name the place where I work, but notices like these are what keep my paycheck coming.

It’s easy to get angry; ill-equipped local bank branch employees, offering little more than a phone number to a recorded line and a sympathetic smile. For Sale signs line the streets in front of vacant homes for months at a time, further bringing down the value of the neighboring homes, when they are finally sold for a fraction of what the folks next door paid; begetting more of the same, maybe two houses down.

The idea of living in a rental, which was so abhorrent to me only a few years ago, as I chased the American Dream, is sounding so much more appealing than I’d thought possible. If something breaks, it’s not my problem, money left after paying half of what our mortgage payments are to be able to actually…save!  Or even… have fun with!

I can’t help but wonder how many people are thinking the same thing I am.

I will do what I can, and prepare for an outcome that might mean upheaval for my family for just a little while.

For now, I am taking consolation where I can get it. It could be so much worse; compounded by credit card debt, collection calls or car repossession. In the end, after the dust settles and we are in a place to lick our wounds, we will rebound.

 We’ve joined the ranks.
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Kelly Sinon can be reached at sksinon@aol.com.