In the Suburbs / Recession casaulties hit close to home

A close friend visited me at the Fairfield Museum and History Center earlier this week and I was relieved.

I hadn't heard from her and was beginning to grow worried, since I knew she was in the throes of losing her home. My concerns were validated -- it had happened!

Now in a small apartment, she was experiencing the feelings of loss and frustration that are plaguing so many of us as this recession drags on.

But, thankfully, she had kept a roof over her head.

I wanted to help, but wasn't sure which job direction to send her in. She was already employed, but clearly one job is not enough.

When she left, I wiped away a tear and vowed to do more.

Two other women friends are facing a similar dilemma, not knowing how long the uncertain process of foreclosure will be and trying to become more savvy about the legalities. Both are in their 50s. Both have been trying to launch businesses.

A close male friend, who is slightly younger than me, continues to search for full-time or part-time work. Meanwhile, the noose of debt tightens with no loosening in sight.

As part of the aging population in one of the most expensive areas in the United States and struggling to survive in this miserable recession, my wife and I not only feel our friends' pain, we share some of it as well.

At this time last year, my wife had started a private practice with a largely lower income client base and was seeing virtually no income.

Thankfully, she had affiliated with the military, which was trying to create a network of social workers from military families to counsel soldiers returning from deployments, and their families. Things finally began looking up toward the fall.

My business, on the other hand, began to tank at the end of August, following the abrupt loss of a piece of business due to a merger of companies.

September to December was an economic wasteland and the only saving grace was a mortgage modification through our bank, based on a strong payment record and no refinancing or second mortgages.

By then, the house was on the market. But the credit noose kept tightening and the balance of clients-to-debt just wasn't there.

I've written about the new poor in Fairfield. But we were clearly the "new trapped." We were and still are part of the local population who couldn't sell their homes, could barely make the payments and who longed for cash flow.

A year later, business is getting better for my wife and me. I have a regular paycheck, but we're still digging out of the ruins of last year's major slow down. Getting ahead ... what's that?

And my heart aches for our friends, who never expected to work hard all of their lives and provide for their families, only to touch the gate of retirement without a key or a mortgage check. None of us are expecting special treatment or recognition.

I often joke via e-mail with a friend who moved to Florida a few years ago with her husband. "I'll catch you later. I'm out right now in Greenfield Hill with my tin cup," I tell our friend.

Despite some improving cash flow, I still feel like I have pennies in my pocket at times. Dinners out remain cheap and far apart. Even with Medicare coverage, my wife and I sometimes have to pick and choose which medications are truly critical. Dry cleaning is a luxury, not a necessity. "Just browsing" with a lot of longing is a favorite pastime.

And I have to think carefully about gasoline consumption when it comes to face-to-face meetings a long distance away versus a phone call.

Like our friends who face the potential of losing a home, I worry too and there are nights when I wake up with visions of bill collectors and foreclosure signs on the front lawn.

My friend, who visited me at the museum, and I still remain very upbeat, despite all that has happened. "Somehow," we agreed, "we're going to get through this."

She said that she truly believes that things are already turning around for her. And I'm right there with her. I know she's going to make it. She's even planting a garden. And why not? That natural growth could lead to personal growth.

This recession is more painful now, because it's hitting friends we deeply care about. But that's all the more reason we all have to pull together -- for each other.

I want to help and I know others do, too. It's never too late to try.

Steven Gaynes can be reached at steven.gaynes@yahoo.com