Page 2 of Generation Lost

The old timbers of the house did their job, burning like kindling as the electrical fire spread through the entire house. By the time the fire trucks arrived, they were huddled on the curb, crying against one another. Genuine tears of sorrow, despair, and unimaginable loss of their entire lives.

“We’re sorry, sir. There was nothing to be done. Everything is gone,” said the firefighter.

“I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“What do you mean our insurance doesn’t cover the fire?” gasped Ellen. The insurance man stared at her with a sly smirk.

“It’s quite simple. During your last renewal, we sent you the renewal notices explaining all the changes to your policy. There were quite a few,” he smiled, shaking his head. “Your insurance no longer covered flooding, broken pipes, fires, roof replacement, or any natural disaster, including hurricanes which is a shame considering where you live. It was all in the paperwork.”

“That document was over a hundred pages long! How could you expect us to review that on our own,” she yelled. Jim gripped her hand.

“This is against the law,” he said, shaking his head. “This can’t possibly be legal.”

“I’m afraid it’s not against the law, and it is legal,” he smiled. “You’ll receive a small sum for personal items, roughly, let’s see, roughly twelve hundred dollars.”

“Twelve hundred dollars? Are you joking? We lost everything. Our photos, clothing, china, everything!”

“Yes, it’s a terrible shame, but again, you didn’t review the policy and update your personal amounts for reimbursement. Of course, if you’d like to rebuild, we’re happy to help you find someone who will finance the rebuild. Otherwise, you’ll need to sell the land to the developer in the area.”

Jim stared at his wife, understanding very clearly now what was happening. The insurance company, the mortgage company, and the new developer were all in on this together.

“You mean the developer who is relying on you to get us all out of our homes.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” said the man. “Here’s your twelve hundred. I suggest you hurry along and find a place to stay tonight. It’s going to be a wet one, and we wouldn’t want to see you get sick or anything.”

In their old sedan, Ellen broke down, sobbing so hard Jim was worried he’d have to take her to the hospital. When they pulled into their friends’ home, they all came out with smiles on their faces until they saw their expression.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t cover fire. Our policies were all changed,” sobbed Ellen. “Check your own. They don’t cover fires, natural disasters, flooding, pipes breaking. It’s a long list of things no longer covered. They knew it. They knew it, and they’re working with that developer who’s been trying to get us to sell.”

“They didn’t give you anything?” asked Otto.

“Twelve hundred dollars,” said Jim. “That’s it. That’s all we get.”

“Oh, my God,” whispered Marion. “What will we do? We’re all in the same boat.”

“For now, you can stay with us,” said Grace. “At least you’ll be warm and dry for a few days.”

“A few days?” frowned Jim.

“We received a foreclosure notice this morning,” said Herb. “We have until the end of the month to leave, which is only a few days away. We thought we had more time.”

“Oh, no,” whispered Ellen, looking at Grace. Her friend gave a sad smile, nodding.

“We moved some boxes to Otto’s garage, but most of what we have we’ll have to sell. The apartments we can afford are horrible. They’re in terrible neighborhoods, and the crime rates are atrocious. We wouldn’t last a week in a place like that.”

They sat in quiet for a long while, just staring at the houses being torn down around them. It was all going to be gone soon. All of it. It would be torn to the ground, cleared, and modern condos and townhomes in their place, or worse, if the rumors were true, a casino.

Their once historic neighborhood of lovely little post-war cottages would be gone. The memories of generations of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren gone. The park where they’d once played little league baseball was now nothing but a patch of dirt. The grass long gone, the swings gone, all of it nothing but a faint memory.

“This is exactly what happened with the others, isn’t it?” asked Greta. They all turned to look at her.

“What do you mean, Greta?” asked Herb.

“We all thought they’d moved on, were living with their children, or found something. But they didn’t, did they? They’ve disappeared. All of them have disappeared, and we’re next.”

CHAPTER TWO

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