Of couse people will ask why not married Catholic priests? Converted Anglican ministers can keep their wives. Catholic priests are men, just like other men. Eugenia Renskoff
Archive for October, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009: The Repeal of Priestly Celibacy in the Catholic Church will probably come through the Anglican ministers who are converting to Catholicism. That is one of the safest and/or easiest ways of doing it. I am sure it will be done slowly, though, I hope, not too slowly. It’d be a shame if some of the Anglican seminarians can get married and the Catholic semanarians can’t. EugeniaRenskoff
The Office of the Governor State of Georgia 203 State Capitol Atlanta, Georgia 30334
October 14, 2009
Re: Mortgage Fraud/Foreclosure Experiences in GA
Dear Governor Perdue,
I have had an extremely bad experience in your state. I was a victim of mortgage fraud and I lost my home in November 2005. I have written letters to the Attorney General of GA and filed a complaint against the broker. Nothing has produced any type of justice and results. A copy of my letter to the Attorney General of GA can be found at http://www.beccar.wordpress.com. It tells the story of my downfall. I feel very ill used. Now I am not writing to you just to vent and maybe my problem is something that no one cares about because it didn’t happen to them. It happened to me and I am not a person with power and influence. All I know is that when I went to Atlanta, GA I was a person with a nearly perfect credit score of 754 and when I left it I was deep in credit card debt for the first time in my life. The loss of my home because I trusted these two people has had repercussions that I have to live with to this day. I cannot begin to describe to you what it has done to me. It has been the most horrible experience of my life so far and I deeply regret the day that I decided to take the Grey Hound bus going to Atlanta. I never told these real estate professionals to lie about my income or to say that I had my own publishing company. That was done without my knowledge and when I found out about it, I thought it was too late to turn back and that I had to go through with the closing on July 26, 2002. I was naïve; I realize that now after reading about similar cases in newspapers like the New York Times. I have paid a very heavy price for that naïveté and am still paying for it. I assure you that everything I am saying in this letter is the absolute truth and nothing but. Now I don’t believe in people like I once did. I don’t trust anybody, especially realtors and their friends. I have them to thank for it. I was out of the country when my condo foreclosed on November 1, 2005 and I had to way to get back to the United States. Nevertheless, I tried everything I could to stop it and I called the Sheriff’s Office, among other GA government departments. Needless to say, I had no attorney and no money to pay for one. I was alone and far away at a t I tried everything I could to stop it and I called the Sheriff’s Office, among other GA government departments. Needless to say, I had no attorney and no money to pay for one. I was alone and far away at a time when I was going through a terrible experience. I have since left GA. If at this time the statues of limitations for white collar crimes are not too long in GA, I would like to see them expanded to 10 years. No one—no one calling themselves real estate professionals–has a right to put their personal gain/commission ahead of a borrower’s needs.
Sincerely, Eugenia Maria Renskoff
When I walked into Macy’s at Herald Square, it was as if I had never been inside a department store before. I strolled through the perfume counters, trying Chanel number 5 (my favorite), spraying it here, spraying it there—a little bit on my neck, a little more on my left wrist. Before, before the GA foreclosure mess, I used to go to Macy’s and other department stores and buy a few things. After GA, it has been the Salvation Army all the way. Where is the Eugenia that was? Where is the woman that enjoyed shopping, the woman with money to shop? Will she ever come back?
It was a two-bedroom, 2 bath condo in Buckhead, one of the best neighborhoods in Atlanta, GA. The location could not be better—near the supermarket, some shops and Borders bookstore. But shortly after I closed, I began to suspect that something had gone wrong—terribly wrong. I started asking people and looking on the Internet. Refinancing right away carried a penalty; the same for selling the place. I have overpaid and was now in deep trouble. I knew I was going to miss the condo (it was a quiet second floor walk-up), but the financial burden of keeping it would be overwhelming. I don’t know what is more devastating or damaging than losing the home that you love. A home is a place that more than shelters you. A home lets you be you. It keeps you when no one else does or wants to. You turn to it for more than a bed, a kitchen and a shower. And when it’s gone, there is no going back. It’s not just that things can never be the same—the damage is more harmful than anything a person has ever known. Foreclosure is a bad word. No one wants to pronounce it and yet so many people, like myself, have had to say it over and over again. My home was foreclosed.
Saturday, October 17, 2009: I have written a letter to the GA governor concerning my mortgage fraud/foreclosure experience. Some people will say it is a waste of a 44 cent stamp and/or my time. I don’t care. The experience has made more than a lasting impact on my life and the more people know about it, the better. It would be more than fair to say that it has changed my life for the worse.
Friday, October 16, 2009:
Thursday: 5:30 P.M. I rushed to the soup kitchen line, but there were only a few men waiting. Most were against the wall of the church on 51st. Street. The rain came down and down. I was already all wet from walking all over Manhattan.
Usually when the weather is bad, we get fed early, but this time something must have happened to delayed them. I placed myself in the line reserved for the ladies. The first lady, I thought and I smiled.
A few minutes later, the first Coalition for the Homeless truck arrived. More waiting for the truck to be opened so that the heavy containers could be carried to the cafeteria. James, the supervisor, opened the truck and some of the men carried the stuff inside. More ladies joined the line and he told us to wait inside. I could see that we’d get a lot of food–the volunteers were setting the tables and there was plenty of everything–salads, sandwiches, bread.
The men who had helped carry the food got their share and we, the women, went to get our portion.
Thursday, October 15, 2009: Rubio would have given his life for his owner. Loyalty and courage and a great heart were part of the German Sheperd Job Description as far as he was concerned.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009: Last night I watched Stalag 17, a 1953 film with William Holden. I had seen it many yeatrs ago and didn’t remember that it was entertaining from beginning to end. William Holden won the Best Actor Oscar for his performance and it was most well deserved. He was great as the cynical sargeant in a German War Camp during World War 2. Nobody likes him in the movie, except towards the end when he becomes a very reluctant hero.
He was a very good actor and his death in November 1981 saddened me, mostly because he died alone.
As this month of October gets closer and closer to its conclusion, I worry more and more about where my cat Lauchita and I will be sleeping from now on. The street again is out of the question. I was sleep-deprived last year when she and I lived out of my red cart and fell asleep anywhere, everywhere. We are used to a bed again and it’d be heartbreaking for us to give it up. I am so anxious about our situation! I can’t pay for an apt. the way I used to when I first came to NY.