I was fifteen at the time, working out at The Weight Room, a health club in Hayward, California, that flourished in the 1970s. Oakland Raiders defense lineman John Matuszak and linebacker Phil Villapiano sometimes trained with me. On that afternoon, I was on the bench press with an erudite power lifter, a 300-pound man in his late twenties, long scraggly hair, thick unkempt beard, a pallor so extreme he seemed to spend most of his time in a cave. As I told him my bodybuilding goals, which included opening a gym in the Bahamas after I won Mr. Universe, he sat on the bench press and stared at me like I was a pathetic fool. He then told me to start saving my money and to learn about real estate. And then before reclining on the bench and repping 400 pounds off his saggy power lifter pecs, he scowled at me and said, "There are only two kinds of people in the world, homeowners and renters. Without a house, you don't have shit."
I was reminded of his words recently when several neighbors of mine were outside my house and a black and white kitten ran toward my driveway. "Whose cat is that?" I asked and one of my neighbors said in a loud voice that the kitten belongs to the "renters" across the street. Her tone suggested that these non-homeowning neighbors were of a cut of fabric of lower quality than those of us who stood on my driveway, for we were obviously smart people who had prioritized our resources in such a way that gave evidence to our superior smarts and values. And to reinforce our superiority over the renters, it is they who clutter are once pristine street with their half dozen SUVs and oversized trucks and to add to our misery these renters think it tasteful to adorn their gas-guzzling behemoths with 22-inch chrome wheels.
So I have to confess part of me does have contempt for these "renters," not because they don't own a home, but because they have bad taste.
Perhaps the two types of people in this world are those who embrace chrome gaucherie and those who don't.
Call me smug if you wish, but I busted my hump (and my wife busted hers) to not be a renter and own my own house. Proud? Yep, you bet.
Posted by: Ed S. | June 12, 2008 at 03:03 PM
I'm sure you and many busted major humps to get a house. For me, I think I was lucky. I bought a condo in 1998 for 180 and used the capital in 2002, selling it for 400, to get a house. Timing was everything.
Posted by: Jeff McMahon | June 12, 2008 at 03:12 PM
I suppose unless one is a trust-fund baby, many of us middle class folks rely on a house to be the biggest source of weatlth in our life. In general, a house doubles in value every 10 years. While I was a renter, I resented the fact that I was pouring my money down a rat hole evey month; and in the end I had nothing to show for it. I don't understand what motivates the well-off renter. There are so many advantages to home ownership.
Posted by: Ed S. | June 12, 2008 at 04:34 PM
Perhaps the renter has no motivation. Perhaps the renter, seduced by instant gratification of oversized vehicles and 22-inch chrome wheels, never amasses a savings adequate to buy a house.
Posted by: Jeff McMahon | June 12, 2008 at 05:16 PM
>> Timing was everything.
I remember reading some time ago (before the whole subprime mess) that house prices had gone up so much that some homeowners were selling their house for a huge profit, investing the money, and going back to renting.
A year or so later, considering the way housing prices have moved lately, I wonder who is having a laugh now, the owners or the "switchers"?
Also, being relatively new to the homeowner scene after years of renting, I must say it does not feel that much better paying the bank instead of the lanlord. Same hole, different rat, I guess.
Posted by: Cyril | June 13, 2008 at 03:40 PM
I like the feeling that my home is mine, that I'm not pouring money into a rental that is amassing the profits for the landlord whose best interests are not my own.
Posted by: Jeff McMahon | June 13, 2008 at 03:47 PM
There is no such thing as "equity" in renting. In ownership, not all the money goes down the rathole. Some turns into tangible property that is yours, not the bank's or the landlord's. Eventually it is all yours. And there is no such thing as appreciation in renting.
Posted by: Ed S. | June 14, 2008 at 08:17 AM
Besides the advantages of homeownership, I think the dichotomy of owning vs. renting is a more sensitive issue than I at first realized. The division penetrates certain pressure points about our identity. I mean owning a home, for better or worse, makes me feel like a different person than I would if I were renting. My slow brain is gradually realizing that one's entire orientation toward the world can be completely different depending on whether one is owning or renting--notice my use of the present progressive verb, which has existential connotations.
Posted by: Jeff McMahon | June 14, 2008 at 08:35 AM
wow!! whoaaa back up!,, villipiano and the toooz!! damn! ""i used to work out sometimes with villipiano and john matuzak"" is not something to nonchalantly mention in setting up a premise!! details man! i mean did you see rings? what was matuzak benching? was the toooz roided out?!
Posted by: gerald johnson | June 14, 2008 at 12:56 PM
I don't remember rings, but I remember the JM was louder than PV and M would bring in models wearing leotards. PV was more low-key. The only other thing I remember was that though these were tough dudes, far tougher than I, they didn't bench press a lot--maybe 250 or so. I don't remember the JM looking "roided out." But he was so tall; he seemed to be close to six feet ten inches. He loved attention, caveman screams, pretty modes, etc.
Posted by: jeff mcmahon | June 14, 2008 at 02:36 PM
he was actually in a movie called caveman! matuzak that is. gotta give up some serious man points for being a teenager and working out along side those guys though!
Posted by: gerald johnson | June 14, 2008 at 05:58 PM
I remember that film. I can see why he was cast in that role. He had a larger than life personality. One memory comes to mind. There was a song playing over the gym speakers called "Love Is the Answer" and Mutazak looked grumpily at nothing in particular upon hearing the song's chorus and muttered, "Bullshit." I loved the dude for disdaining crappy pop songs.
Posted by: Jeff McMahon | June 14, 2008 at 06:05 PM