God, even remembering the events of this last 18 months is exhausting.
So we got Joan into the place she is in now, a decent place. But decent places cost. In this case 5000 a month plus incidentals, plus drugs, plus trips for the hospital every time she falls down and they think she needs observation in case of concussion.
We needed we saw for sure to sell the house on Delridge, but in the meantime, we needed to extend the equity line Joan and WB had taken out on the house to cover the immediate expenses at the new place. They had already taken out a number of years back an equity line for 50,000 but that was nearly used up and they were paying lots of interest. Additionally, they had not been paying state property taxes for years, using some deal the state had, a real screw you deal, that allowed old people to defer property taxes with the idea that the money would be taken out of the property when sold. So with that and having to pay off the equity line, a substantial chunk of money was to come out of the money we got for the house right off the top.
But first the equity line. Since you just can’t put up a sign and expect the house to sell in a couple of days. Additionally, Joan wouldn’t even talk about selling the house. Also, she was forgetting things more and more and it didn’t seem as if she was up even to negotiating or doing the paper work necessary to get the equity line extended.
Doing that fell to me as the executor of the financial part of the Tingle Family Trust. I wasn’t supposed to me the one to do this. In the original trust brother Steve had been made the financial executor. But at some point, Joan—and it was Joan’s doing—wrote Steve and “all his progeny” completely out of the will. Unbelievable. Here was Steve, living maybe 20 minutes from the Delridge place and going over there all the time to check on them, and bring in the mail, and take out the trash and make sure they had food, and even driving them occasionally to the doctor, several times when some sort of emergency occurred.
I mean damn. One day Steve comes over and finds WB lying face down in the dirt and when Steve tries to help him up the old man curses him out. Damn. He helps out, puts up with their complaints about whatever he does and Joan writes him out of the will. Probably she was pissed that Steve wouldn’t move right in with them at Delridge like she wanted, and then when Steve decided to take a break, for the sake of his sanity, and go on a little camping trip and visit us folks up in SB, she let it be known that she did not want him to go, and when he did, she had him written out of the will. At least we think that’s when it happened. The dates on the change in the trust strongly suggest the two events were related.
In any case, she didn’t tell Steve anything about it and he had to find out about it when looking for some papers she wanted and came across the trust and saw that he and all his progeny (if you can believe) had been written out of the will. For God’s sake. Around then we all started referring to Joan as evil. We are linguistically a conservative group and don’t like to abuse a word and evil has been abused lately, but in Joan’s case it seemed to fit.
This is a picture of the drive into the Delridge House. When I say the house was off in the middle of nowhere, I exaggerate of course. But this picture does suggest it was off a bit somewhere.