If the slumping economy is bringing you nightmares straight from the 80′s of a suffering stock market, inflated cost of living, and an inexplicable rise in the popularity of MC Hammer pants, you’re not alone. Today, even the typically robust Austin housing market posted a 4% drop in housing prices over last year. Not a good sign. And cities across America have been so hard hit by the recent wave of foreclosures that tent cities have sprung up like mushrooms in the shadow of a dark econolyptic fallout cloud.
For now, Sacramento, CA, appears to be the capital of Hooverville, thanks in part to efforts by the Governator to set aside sanctioned areas for what one can only hope will be temporary living quarters.
SF Gate ran a sad story with lots of pictures featuring people eating out of tin cans and drying wet blankets on clotheslines, straight out of a Walker Evans/James Agee report on the 30′s dustbowl. But somehow I find this image of a guy playing frisbee with his dog the saddest. Dude, that is a tire.
Now hubby and I are fortunate enough to live a comfortable — if modest — life. But we’ve got a baby on the way so he’s (at least temporarily) the sole breadwinner, and if hubby got laid off we’d be living in a tent down by the river faster than you could say, “Rest in peace, Chris Farley.”
My point is that it could happen to any of us, so I think we need to come up with a contingency plan, because I don’t want to live in a filthy tent while my poop smeared baby plays with tires. I want to be homeless in style.
Plan 1: Squat in one of these amazing abandoned Detroit homes. Detroit’s real estate market has been decimated so completely that the median home price there has fallen to $18k, and an increasing number of people are fleeing the city center and moving outwards.
It’s a sad fact that real estate is all about location, location, location, because any one of these homes would fetch $500k plus in an historic Austin neighborhood. Since I’ll never be able to afford to buy one of those, I imagine that I would enjoy playing house in a ramshackle Victorian, Craftsman, or even a crumbling farmhouse, while blissfully ignoring the hoopty whips, potholes and plywood doors all around me. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?
Plan 2: Build a cardboard spaceship and wait to be rescued by aliens, because you know Calgon ain’t gonna take you away.
Seriously, Miwa Takabayashi designed this cardboard structure to fit inside a mall, so that it could serve as a “refuge for our over-simulated and consumer-driven world.” Or it could serve as a house in our very under-stimulated world. If you still want to pitch your cardboard tent inside the ghost mall, that’s your own decision; I’m sure the mall would be grateful to have even the appearance of consumers these days.
As long as I’m living in a cardboard house, I’d like a matching cardboard office. Obviously existentialist creative agency, Nothing, set up this corrugated funhouse in Amsterdam.
True, I may have to scale back the designs a wee bit to fit inside my space pod, but I’m pretty stoked that I can steal electricity from the mall and run it through cardboard. That’s not a fire hazard, is it? At any rate, I’m going to need a place to plug in my computer so I can keep blogging. Joblessness should leave us with some extra time on our hands.
Oh, ok. Maybe these sweet structures aren’t really in keeping with the whole “Tent City” vibe.
Plan 3: Live in a house that looks like a tent. See, it’s a house, but it has a tent facade! It should blend right in with the other homeless homes, right?
What? It’s totally down to earth. Look how minimal it is, what with the plywood walls, no pillow action and cheap folding chairs. Ok, so although it’s restrained, it’s not exactly living free. The glass alone must have cost a mint, but maybe I could fake it with some sticks and saran wrap?
FINE. I’ll take it down another notch.
Plan 4: Live in an actual tent city. Is this proletarian enough for you? Look enough like a tent city? Because that’s what it is. Tents. Together. Forming a city. Well, if I have to live in an actual tent, I’d at least like it to be pretty and colorful, like these tents set up by Studio Orta.
Whee, so whimisical with the colorful flags emblazoned on the sides — I feel uplifted already. On my tent, we’d fly the flags of Cardboard Corner and Derelict Drive, to show solidarity with our homeless sistahs and bruddahs. Now I know not a lot of stuff will fit into this tiny tent, but besides the obvious necessities — hubby, fetus, soap — I’m bringing one other, very important accessory:
My ratty tatty blankie that I’ve had since I was born. You’d have to pry this little scrap of security from my cold, dead hands in order to make me part with it. Besides, in Hooverville, the well worn look is in.
If you had to live in a tent, what one special item would you bring? Think of it as Hobo Survivor.
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I have been waiting for a hobo chic post!
We have abandoned houses and a tent village here … but I think the tent village recently suffered a fire. Sad stuff.
It’s hard to believe we are living in this world. I’d take the cardboard spaceship – even if I was living in the mall, it would make me feel like I was escaping. But maybe instead of the mall, I’d hobo at the art museum … plenty of Napoleon era bedrooms and pomo installations too camp out in. Time to reread The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frakweiler for tips …
So horrible. So many people I know are teetering on the edge.
If I was packing up for tent life, after my family, my sweet dogs, and my laptop, I’d take some letters from my mother. She died about 10 years ago after suffering with Alzheimers for 5 years before that. Just seeing her handwriting warms me. I’d also grab the teeniest tiniest ballet shoes that both my daughters wore as 2-year-olds. There’s also a framed photo of my husband with long Peter Phrampton curls. I’d have to take that too. { Okay, I’m a rule-breaker. I can’t be limited to just 1 item! }
Oops! Frampton, that is. { Can you tell I was never a fan? But, I just can’t help loving long man-locks. }
Weirdly, I beamed with local pride when the author Timothy Egan was being interviewed on a PBS radio program regarding his recent book, “The Worst Hard Time” (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/25/books/review/25royte.html). It chronicles the accounts of the people who stayed in south-eastern Colorado during the Dust Bowl. John Steinbeck wrote about the Okies and Arkies who left for California. Egan, through non-fiction writes about the people who though stubborness or stupidity stayed!
Things now are eerily similar in condition to that great natural disaster that happened less than a century ago. The agricultural water shares have been bought up by cities clear outside their river basins for urban development. Hobo chic-wise one has to wonder who will be buying up grain elevators for severely out-of-the-way art refuges with majestic views of…vast wastelands. Well…I do.
Loved your post-I think I’d live in Grey Gardens….before it got really bad!
How timely to read your posting today. We just got word that our rental home in Las Vegas (Henderson) lost it’s lessee. Just dropped the key’s at the gate & disappeared. Leaving the home in sad shape. We kept our home because we had to move because of my husbands job.It was our investment for retirement or to move back when that time comes. Now it’s empty, my husbands job is on shaky ground & I am going to school. Two boys in college & with all that, I feel like I am going to have a nervous breakdown. Your posting made me smile, laugh & remember, I don’t live in a tent quite yet.
I would take my dog along with my family. She makes me happy no matter what!
Welcome Andrew, Kierstin and Deb, nice to meet you!
Thanks everyone for writing in with reports about what’s going on across the country. I think we often live in our own little bubbles, blissfully unaware of crises that are brewing.
Deb, I sincerely hope things get better for you, and I hope that none of us ever have to live in a tent — or a grain elevator, for that matter! Although at least that would have a nice view…
Susie, I love all the things you’re bringing on your hobo journey. Kinda making me all misty eyed.
Stephanie, generally speaking, I’d rather pull out a tooth than go to the mall, so I’m all for moving our cardboard Quonset hut to the museum.
I would bring zombie Chris Farley. He could entertain me for hours with his undead comic wit.
what a great post!!!!!!! you went all out on this one. and now i want to buy a home in detroit even tho that makes no sense. i think it is the only place i could ever afford to buy at, and i am sure there are ZERO jobs there at this point. sigh. we are all fucked. but your contingency plans have my mind whirring.
and another thing. i miss chris farley. wah.
omg I love that cardboard house!! that is seriously nicer than my apartment!!! oh and thanks for the kind words about my mini emergency dispatcher meltdown post. so nice!
i love driving in detroit – there are some amazing houses. if i had money for a restoration i’d moved downtown in a heartbeat!
Thankfully things haven’t got so bad here in Oz and hopefully wont. To encourage consumerism our PM gave us all $900 to spend on what ever we want – how thoughtful! Seems most peeps went and bought computer games. Mine when it comes, will go on a photographer to get me decent shots of my work which will in turn hopefully gimme more work so I don’t end up in the streets. but sending love to all the peoples out there who are suffering. Its just mind blowingly heart sickening and not being a financial whiz type – i clearly dont quite understand fully why this has happened – though I want to hope that somehow and somewhere there will be a whole lotta good thats going to come out of this crap.
Great post – I need me a cardboard office!
I woke up this morning stressing out over the fact that I had discovered a tiny blemish on my face and whining to myself over the fact that my wardrobe wasn’t up to snuff even though I had at least 20 neatly pressed work shirts to chose from. Thank you Erin for bringing me back to reality with this beautifully cratfed blog. After viewing these photos I realized that my pimple and wardobe aren’t that devastating after all.I am actually a little embarrassed and ashamed. On a brighter note, I do believe that we as a nation will pull out of this as we have done before in the past. Although I have never been reduced to living in a tent, I have had some rough patches in life but I appreciate the highs in life more because of it. I was fortunate enough to be able to visit Austin a few weeks ago for the first time and I was further made aware of the fact that inspite of all of the suffering and cruelty in the world today, there are still inspiring and thoughtful people who do make a difference in times of need.Thanks for making a difference Erin and if I had to share a tent with anyone, I hope it would be of the likes of you and our dear friend Karly. I must warn you though that I do snore a little but I am a great snuggler.For those of you struggling..Keep the faith. There is a light at the end. Peace..Patrick
I was like… “you’re bringing hubs, babes, soap and the Shroud of Turin?”
Welcome Amy and Sarah!
HG, that blanket is so old it could probably be carbon dated to the same period as the Shroud of Turin.
Patrick, your comment made my day. You’re welcome in my tent anytime
Great post Erin, but makes me sad. Things are getting scarier and scarier by the day out there, which is everywhere. Hokey as it may be, with my hubby and my boys in tow, all else is unimportant. Here’s to better times for all. Very, very soon!
There is no reason why a neighborhood committee can’t be formed even in a tent city. Number 1 rule: All hovels should be in the same color palette.
Easy–for anyone who knows me: my personal space heater!
This is a beautiful post, E, and very thoughtful – love it. Makes me think, and like Patrick, it makes me a little ashamed at the things I’m worried about. No immediate stress over the mortgage yet, but who knows what’s to come around the corner?
Patrick, just pick up your things and come! You can’t fool me – it takes 3 months tops to pick up and move halfway across the country.
I’ve done it, and you’ll love it, too. The tides will rise and fall regardless, but we still have to pursue our personal happiness.