Mystery Lurks In Your Own Home

Real Estate is an absolutely fantastic trade. I love every aspect of it so far. The research. The hunt. The negotiating (those who've seen me in action know I love this the most!). The closing of the deal. The rehabbing. And though I have yet to experience it, I imagine the marketing and eventually the sale will grow to be my favorite parts. It seems like a perfect fit for my personality and talents.

I suspected that I would like all of those aspects when I decided to go into the field. What was a surprise is how much I enjoyed the 'getting to know the house.' It's not even a necessary step of the process. What I'm talking about is the process of familiarizing yourself with the circumstances and conditions under which your home was built and understanding the chain of people and personalities that resided your home before it arrived in your hands. 9 out of 10 times, I wont make a dime on the hours I spend finding this stuff out. But, there's something that can be said for being true to the framer's intent! Ha! (C'mon, as pun's go, you must admit that's a pretty good one.) And to be honest, in a much less noble fashion, it quiets the curios cat in us.

I paid a visit to the university library and the county's register of deeds. It's remarkable how much of our history is preserved through real estate. I know the name of everyone who's ever lived in my house. I know where they moved to. If I wanted to, I could even trace the life of their children by seeing who they willed their house to when they died. It's all there in public records which date back hundreds of years. Remarkable. But the records not only provide you with names, but the personalities that brought these names to life. For instance, you can use these leads to find out what these people did for a living, if they were ever divorced, how many times they remarried, how deeply they were in debt, and any number of other things. If you're lucky, you can even get full narratives of their lives in obituaries. Even better, if they were affiliated with a university, you can even get a hold of their collected papers. Everything is saved somewhere. You just have to know where to look and care enough to go there. I have no doubt that I was the first person to ever look at some of these documents.

I felt like a detective piecing together the facts of a mystery. You follow one story to its end and pick up the next. You never know what you're going to find next. You never know how far back in the past the scent will take you. But at some point, all of a student, it stops. History will only let you go so far.

I was lucky enough to have some relatively famous people live in my home. There's lots written about them. The most interesting "story" is of the first guy that owned my home. There is absolutely nothing preserved about this guy's existence, nor his wife. He's never been mentioned in a newspaper, magazine, or book. No one wrote an obituary for him. None of his offspring reached a level of fame that you would know him through association. Nothing. The one loose strand that ties his ghost to the real world is that his name is scribbled in pen on a deed filed away a dusty leather-bound book at the county's register of deeds. That's it. In a way, it's sad. But when you think about it, suppose he never bought my house in the first place? Well, then there would be nothing. For this guy, or any guy really, buying a piece of property not only buys you the house but guarantees you some level of notoriety long after you are dead.

But even this notoriety is only in theory. In practice, title companies are now only required to search title back about 30 years. It used to be that they would have to go back as far as they could. Back in the old days, our good friend would be remembered every time the house was sold ad infinitem. As far as he knew, that’s how he would be remembered. But try as he might to live in modest fame, congress, a much greater force than one man in the grave alone, has relegated him to obscurity, as his statutory 30 years are up.

In a sense, I brought him back to life when the rest of the world was done remembering him. And is this what our ancestors meant when they said that the soul lives on long after the body expires? And don’t you think he appreciates it? And when I sell this house, I will tell the new owners his name and hope that they will tell their kids and his story can find new life in oral tradition. And just like in the old days, through imagination and embellishment, his mere name will grow wings and ascend to legend. Mr. John Charles Kouns, fear not, my friend, you will soon live amongst gods and giants.