Roscoe, NY
The world economy is spiraling into a recession... but, for me, it feels more like a depression. My co-workers and I just watch the DOW plunge and rise and plunge and rise each day... alas... the DOW is way down from a month ago. I have lost about 50% of my total investments with not much wiggle room left. My 5 year ARM mortgage is about to adjust in a short eight months... which means, an even higher monthly payment. Heating oil is a bitch. To heat the house for about 6 hours a day would cost me about $500 a month. I don't even blast the heat... I keep it at a constant 67 degrees at night and in the morning and a constant 60 degrees during the day. My studio's monthly maintenance fee went up about 25% three months ago to help pay for the building's heating cost this winter. In addition to the monthly maintenance cost, I also have to pay an additional $90/mo for the past three months to help pay down the heating bill that the building incurred LAST winter.
With all my three tenants now gone at the Pink House, a roughly 25% increase in electricity, a 7% property tax increase on top of an existing 18% increase, and no additional income... I feel that I'm screwed.
I will be calling my real estate agent today to finalize the terms in selling the Pink House; a move many of my friends and co-workers say is the wrong move at this time since the market is so down and chances of getting a loan is so difficult. I've tried the rental approach and it has gone no where... apparently, I'm "too far" from the city. Well... I may be a 35 minute train ride to the city, but I'm not exactly charging two arms and a leg to live in the Pink House either.
Whatever the case maybe... taking a step back from it all, I am still considered very lucky. I still have a job with a good salary for what I do. I have a close family and friends to lean on when I need to. I have my health. I can work and can find work if I do get laid off.
I recently visited Roscoe, NY... famous for the Roscoe Diner and the flood that wiped out a good part of the city a year ago. This rural area, about 100 miles northwest of NYC, had about 8 inches of rain in a span of 2 hours with sustained winds of 50 mph. The flood carried homes off their foundations and destroyed much of their roads. Aid to those who needed it were hampered due to the downed power lines and spotty cell phone services.
What's left of the town center is... rather depressing. The whole town center spanned about three blocks by three blocks with numerous boarded up store fronts and shattered windows. Among the abandoned lots where numerous store fronts for rent and lots for sale. On the edge of the town was an abandon home that was in the middle of an expansion. The windows where mostly intact, but the doorways where completely boarded up with ply-wood. The only life that was left in town was Buffalo Zach's Cafe, the only Internet cafe, connecting them to the outside world. The cafe even served soy milk for lactose intolerant people like me. The Roscoe O&W Railway Museum and Caboose was... uhmmm... just a semi-rusting caboose sitting on a what seems to be an empty lot. I didn't spot any tourist or an agent selling tickets either.
Other than touring the town, I also took a hike on one of Roscoe's washed out roads. Upon entering the "unmaintained" road, I felt a chill. It was a rush of the past communicating with me with every step I took. The first few steps on the road started off with asphalt which gradually changed into crumbed asphalt mixed with dirt to completely dirt and rocks. A 10 foot stream flowed to my left with a fallen tree bridging the two banks. The water was very shallow, very cold, clear, refreshing, and free of impurities. I even saw one tiny baby fish stuck between two rocks that was trying to continue down stream but couldn't; that's how shallow the water was.
As I hiked along the washed out trail, I saw many more fallen trees and crumbed away pavements. The trail became less and less walkable without having to dodge branches, over grown weeds, trees, and having to walk along a foot wide trail without spraining an ankle on the rocks. The trail was completely peaceful. No signs of living beings other than a family of five that was hiking back out the trail. I didn't hear birds, squirrels, or wild animals. I just had to combat the occasional fly and mosquito. I felt I was walking back in time in search of the ruins.
After hiking for about 40 minutes, I was completely thrown back by what I saw ahead of me. It sent chills throughout my body and I froze in my tracks. I approached it very slowly in awe. It was what's left of a bridge for cars that bridged the banks of the stream. What's left was this massive rusted semi-circular foundation of the bridge. The side railings were gone and had washed down stream and the concrete pavement was completely gone. What was exposed was only the bridge's foundation and a half torn off railing. Everything was rusted. The stream continued to flow under the bridge and the footings of the foundation could be seen exposed in the water.
I slowly crept across the bridge to the other side and felt like I stepped back in time. Silence.... even the sound of the stream was drowned out by the chills running up and down my back. I continued to walk on the washed out path and came across a much wider section of the stream which was to the right of me now. The depth of the stream was at least 10 feet. If I fell off the narrow trail, I would surely be injured with the bedrock of the stream exposed... hiking further up the trail, I came across more trees and what used to be the old stream before it redirected itself after the flood. I walked in its old stream bed and came across a pile of stones that were carefully arranged into a tower formation... it was spooky... as if I was looking at something from the past in the present... like Stone Hedge. Before I left the trail on my return trip, I too made a mark in time by placing a stone on the stone tower myself. I wonder if the tower will still exist if I ever return back to Roscoe.
This trip really made me appreciate the people and things that I have in my life. An already depressed town in the old rust belt still manages to survive after a disaster. With it's population of roughly 1000 people and a school of 300 students from grades pre-k to 12, Roscoe did well. People still stop by this small town on their way to Binghamton on Route 17 to fly fish, hike, camp, and just to eat at the Roscoe Diner. People here appear happy when I spoke with them. Even the teenagers working at the Buffalo Zach's Cafe didn't complain about the nearest mall and movie theater being 45 minutes away by car. That says something, doesn't it?
We as human beings can adapt to our changing environment and CAN live on less when we need to.
Roscoe is a great weekend town, but it's definitely not my life style. I still need to see people and buildings and have more than a tiny handful of restaurants to eat at. For now, I will continue to indulge in my city life, but also learn to scale back in the changing economy. I guess I will rest with the thought knowing that if I ever sold my studio or Pink House, with the money, I can buy a lake house for about $145k in Roscoe and live like a king... well... maybe not... as there are no jobs.
This is the sign right before the road ends and the hiking trail starts. Cars are no longer permited beyond this point.
This is what part of the trail looks like. The road was washed away and was replaced by rocks and soil.
This is one of the smaller fallen trees on the trail. There were trees that were 3-5 times its size.
This is the washed away bridge. The picture doesn't show the grandness of the bridge. The concrete pavement on top is completely gone and the iron is rusted away. You can still see what's left of the railing on the side. I actually found the other pieces of the bridge about 100 feet down stream from it. Cars used to travel over it.
This is the stone tower that I came across in my path. It sat in the middle of what used to be the stream bed. I decided to add a stone to the tower myself before I left the hiking trail.
With all my three tenants now gone at the Pink House, a roughly 25% increase in electricity, a 7% property tax increase on top of an existing 18% increase, and no additional income... I feel that I'm screwed.
I will be calling my real estate agent today to finalize the terms in selling the Pink House; a move many of my friends and co-workers say is the wrong move at this time since the market is so down and chances of getting a loan is so difficult. I've tried the rental approach and it has gone no where... apparently, I'm "too far" from the city. Well... I may be a 35 minute train ride to the city, but I'm not exactly charging two arms and a leg to live in the Pink House either.
Whatever the case maybe... taking a step back from it all, I am still considered very lucky. I still have a job with a good salary for what I do. I have a close family and friends to lean on when I need to. I have my health. I can work and can find work if I do get laid off.
I recently visited Roscoe, NY... famous for the Roscoe Diner and the flood that wiped out a good part of the city a year ago. This rural area, about 100 miles northwest of NYC, had about 8 inches of rain in a span of 2 hours with sustained winds of 50 mph. The flood carried homes off their foundations and destroyed much of their roads. Aid to those who needed it were hampered due to the downed power lines and spotty cell phone services.
What's left of the town center is... rather depressing. The whole town center spanned about three blocks by three blocks with numerous boarded up store fronts and shattered windows. Among the abandoned lots where numerous store fronts for rent and lots for sale. On the edge of the town was an abandon home that was in the middle of an expansion. The windows where mostly intact, but the doorways where completely boarded up with ply-wood. The only life that was left in town was Buffalo Zach's Cafe, the only Internet cafe, connecting them to the outside world. The cafe even served soy milk for lactose intolerant people like me. The Roscoe O&W Railway Museum and Caboose was... uhmmm... just a semi-rusting caboose sitting on a what seems to be an empty lot. I didn't spot any tourist or an agent selling tickets either.
Other than touring the town, I also took a hike on one of Roscoe's washed out roads. Upon entering the "unmaintained" road, I felt a chill. It was a rush of the past communicating with me with every step I took. The first few steps on the road started off with asphalt which gradually changed into crumbed asphalt mixed with dirt to completely dirt and rocks. A 10 foot stream flowed to my left with a fallen tree bridging the two banks. The water was very shallow, very cold, clear, refreshing, and free of impurities. I even saw one tiny baby fish stuck between two rocks that was trying to continue down stream but couldn't; that's how shallow the water was.
As I hiked along the washed out trail, I saw many more fallen trees and crumbed away pavements. The trail became less and less walkable without having to dodge branches, over grown weeds, trees, and having to walk along a foot wide trail without spraining an ankle on the rocks. The trail was completely peaceful. No signs of living beings other than a family of five that was hiking back out the trail. I didn't hear birds, squirrels, or wild animals. I just had to combat the occasional fly and mosquito. I felt I was walking back in time in search of the ruins.
After hiking for about 40 minutes, I was completely thrown back by what I saw ahead of me. It sent chills throughout my body and I froze in my tracks. I approached it very slowly in awe. It was what's left of a bridge for cars that bridged the banks of the stream. What's left was this massive rusted semi-circular foundation of the bridge. The side railings were gone and had washed down stream and the concrete pavement was completely gone. What was exposed was only the bridge's foundation and a half torn off railing. Everything was rusted. The stream continued to flow under the bridge and the footings of the foundation could be seen exposed in the water.
I slowly crept across the bridge to the other side and felt like I stepped back in time. Silence.... even the sound of the stream was drowned out by the chills running up and down my back. I continued to walk on the washed out path and came across a much wider section of the stream which was to the right of me now. The depth of the stream was at least 10 feet. If I fell off the narrow trail, I would surely be injured with the bedrock of the stream exposed... hiking further up the trail, I came across more trees and what used to be the old stream before it redirected itself after the flood. I walked in its old stream bed and came across a pile of stones that were carefully arranged into a tower formation... it was spooky... as if I was looking at something from the past in the present... like Stone Hedge. Before I left the trail on my return trip, I too made a mark in time by placing a stone on the stone tower myself. I wonder if the tower will still exist if I ever return back to Roscoe.
This trip really made me appreciate the people and things that I have in my life. An already depressed town in the old rust belt still manages to survive after a disaster. With it's population of roughly 1000 people and a school of 300 students from grades pre-k to 12, Roscoe did well. People still stop by this small town on their way to Binghamton on Route 17 to fly fish, hike, camp, and just to eat at the Roscoe Diner. People here appear happy when I spoke with them. Even the teenagers working at the Buffalo Zach's Cafe didn't complain about the nearest mall and movie theater being 45 minutes away by car. That says something, doesn't it?
We as human beings can adapt to our changing environment and CAN live on less when we need to.
Roscoe is a great weekend town, but it's definitely not my life style. I still need to see people and buildings and have more than a tiny handful of restaurants to eat at. For now, I will continue to indulge in my city life, but also learn to scale back in the changing economy. I guess I will rest with the thought knowing that if I ever sold my studio or Pink House, with the money, I can buy a lake house for about $145k in Roscoe and live like a king... well... maybe not... as there are no jobs.
This is the sign right before the road ends and the hiking trail starts. Cars are no longer permited beyond this point.
This is what part of the trail looks like. The road was washed away and was replaced by rocks and soil.
This is one of the smaller fallen trees on the trail. There were trees that were 3-5 times its size.
This is the washed away bridge. The picture doesn't show the grandness of the bridge. The concrete pavement on top is completely gone and the iron is rusted away. You can still see what's left of the railing on the side. I actually found the other pieces of the bridge about 100 feet down stream from it. Cars used to travel over it.
This is the stone tower that I came across in my path. It sat in the middle of what used to be the stream bed. I decided to add a stone to the tower myself before I left the hiking trail.
posted by Sparky X | 4:43 PM
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