opening the first bag

I just emptied out one of the large bags from the trunk of my car. The night of the fire, I went through the house with a couple of contractor garbage bags, scooping up the random pieces of my life that still survived. I don't remember doing it at all.

It's like going through a dead person's stuff. I managed to save my savings bonds. I found my Playboy club cufflinks, which belonged to my father. Along with all my other cufflinks, all of them plain geometric shapes like squares or hexagons, all of them plain silver or plain gold, from back in the days when I used to own French cuffed shirts.

I found $85 Canadian dollars. What the hell was I doing with 85 Canadian dollars!?!? They're now worth $69 USD. I can no longer remember.

I found pictures of me taken in 1996, when I was younger and almost handsome. Though I got my first grey hair in 1991, the rest apparently took their time coming in -- in these pictures my hair and beard are a dark, curly, Mediterranean brown. Who is that guy?

I found my collection of watches. In addition to French cuffs, I also had a fairly large collection of watches. I managed to grab two pocket watches and three wrist watches. I no longer wear a watch.

And why, when I was salvaging the remains of my life, did I grab a package of rolling writer pens from Staples? They're great pens, by the way -- you can't get them anymore. But why did I grab a package of pens as if they were as important as savings bonds or silver cufflinks?

That night, I also shoved a toy cardboard telescope into the bag, as well as a metal GI Joe lunchbox full of backup CDs. I do not remember this salvage experience at all. I had completely forgot I owned savings bonds until I opened the bag a few minutes ago.

Anyway, my past life -- at least the trinkets of it - can be squeezed into a leftover cardboard box.

And we're back

Have finally started to work on rebuilding the house after the fire, and, of course, the nightmares have come back. Why do I insist on giving myself nightmares about this.

The next plan is to head to the Department of Buildings and get the original architectural plans for my house, so the builders will have something to work from.

Fire Update - Subhed Red Tape

What a difference a day makes. I got a call from the insurance company.
They're cutting the checks.

And sending the checks to the adjustment company.

Fire Update - Subhed Red Tape

There's nothing to tell -- it's still not resolved!

The public adjustment company quit. Or fired me. I don't think there's any correct nomenclature. I just got a notice one day in May that said they were no longer handling my claim, thanks, goodbye, you owe us money.

A lot of the problem stemmed from language difficulties. Not that I spoke English and the adjuster assigned to my case spoke Spanish, but that I spoke in complete sentences and she spoke in "Whatever"s and "You know"s and "The other thing"s.

"You know, you need to fill out that other thing."

"What other thing?"

"The thing. The what you call it. You know?"

"No, I don't know! What other thing?!"

"Oh, what-EVER!"

I'd try to pin her down, to put some nounflesh on the "whatevers" and "other things", and we'd both wind up getting frustrated and angry. And then she'd mutter in Spanish.

But the ultimate key to our falling out was her incompetence. She was supposed to send me insurance company documents, reports, etc to my new address in Brooklyn: XXX Prospect Park Southwest, Brooklyn, NY, care of Jane Austen (not her real name). She habitually sent stuff to XXX Prospect Park WEST, care of Shane Boston, or Jane Auslin. When I told her that she sent stuff to the wrong address, she reflexively responded that she sent stuff to the address I gave her, whatever. She also suggested that I go to XXX Prospect Park West, and knock on the door, and ask if there were any packages for me. This was rendered impossible by the fact that there is no XXX Prospect Park West.

The problem is, one of the mislaid packages was the itemized settlement -- a breakdown of what has to be replaced in my house and the amount each would cost. I know the total amount, but not the itemized details. The adjuster said I had to sign the document and sent it back to her. I said she had to send me the document. she said she did. I said she sent it to the wrong address. She said she sent it to the address I gave her, whatever.. The cycle of violence continued.

I asked to have her replaced, the company refused. I asked her to resend the document, she refused. Then they said they were no longer handling my claim. I tried to get the insurance company's adjuster involved, but he's been incommunicado all summer. I finally called my insurance broker, and she's been doing what she can -- mainly calling the insurance company's adjuster and leaving messages.

Fire Update - Subhed Red Tape

Well, time for cautious optimism. I called my insurance broker yesterday.
I had been focusing my efforts on contacting the claims manager for the
insurance company instead. this is the person who actually sold my father
the insurance on the house in 1994, and the person who transferred that
insurance to me in 1999. I hadn't spoken to her since the fire because I
frankly did not think of calling her until yesterday. I had been focusing
my efforts on contacting the claims manager for the insurance company
instead.

Anyway, she was able to look on the Traveler's secure website, and she
determined that (1) my claim is still open, (2) there's "a great deal of
money" in the account. What's holding everything up? She'll get back to
me.

The point is, this is the most official information I've gotten in 7
months.

Fire Update - Subhed Red Tape

Not exactly.

At 9 am, six hours after the fire -- when I had been awake for 27 hours and
still in shock from the loss of my house -- I signed a contract with an
adjustment company. Adjustment companies are middlemen who "handle" all
the paperwork and negotiations between you and the insurance company, for a
4% fee.

I did this on the advice on my aunt (whose house fire a few years before
was handled in stellar fashion by her adjustment company), and my brother's
lawyer, who said he advises all his clients to use adjustment companies in
these cases.

(When I went to sign my name on the contract, the pen ran out of ink. If
you're the kind who believes in omens, that should have been a warning
right there.)

Well, it turns out that the adjustment company is "partnered with" (they
say partnered, I say "a front for") a construction company that as luck
would have it specializes in rebuilding houses damaged by fire. A month
after the blaze, I was handed a building contract. I said I preffered to
find my own contractor. From that moment I was emptor non grata with the
adjustment company.

A second email from them today claims that I never returned their phone
calls. Little do they know I'm a geek lunatic who downloads his phone
records every month, and can show that they haven't called me since
December.

But that's beside the point. The real question is, am I better off without
them? they claimed they would negotiate with the insurance company on my
behalf, but I have no evidence that they ever did. We know how useless
they were at finding me a place to live after the fire.

All this really means is that I'm going to have to start negotiating with
the insurance company on my own.

Fire Update - Subhed Red Tape

After a year of jerking me around, I just got word
that the adjustment company has closed my case file. No explanation, no
reason, just a curt email saying they've closed my case file.

It's probably for the best, I think -- their incompetence (deliberate or
actual) has essentially kept my life on hold for a year, and with them gone
perhaps something will actually get done.

It appears that their entire goal was to get me to use their construction
company to rebuild my house -- the minute I shied away from that, my calls
became low priority, and activity on my claim slowed to a crawl.

I'm betting that they're going to claim that I owe them for the demolition
work they did, gutting the interior of my house. We'll see.

Fire Update

Insurance adjuster: "there are some elements with this building contract
I don't like. Can't talk now. later"

Building contractor: "WHY did you show the contract to the insurance
adjuster!?! They should have no problem with it! We've done business
before!"

Someone is going to die. Soon.

Fire Update

There is no news, which in this case is not necessarily good news.

The builders are reported to have accepted the contract. However, they're
not returning my phone calls and emails, and they have not (as of Friday)
sent me the contract by mail. So for the life of me, I don't know.

I've thought of going to their office and standing in the doorway, yelling.
But it's a two-hour trip to get there, and there's no guarantee the right
people will be in the office. I am unusually patient, but this is getting
annoying.

Fire Update - Subhed Rebuilding

Well, part of the problem is that for the last two weeks, the insurance
agent, the insurance company adjuster, and the private adjuster have all
been on vacation. Not one of them told me they were leaving, but for the
first time I understand their earlier desire to have everything underway by
the end of August.

I haven't seen the contract, and I'll be going over it to see if a comma has
been misplaced. Before that happens, I'll see about the materials -- my
ceilings were lath and plaster, and all my doors were solid. I intend to be
very hands on during the building process.

Fire Update - Subhed Red Tape

Laydeeeeez and Gentlemen! In this hand, I hold two bright red slips of
paper, indicating that a Consolidated Edison Emergency Crew turned off the
electricity and gas service to my house at 3:18AM on May 9, a few minutes
after the fire department left.

In THIS hand, I hold a brand new ConEd utility bill, indicating that my
house used $63 worth of electricity and $46 worth of gas in the billing
period from 05/17/06 to 06/16/06.

Stay tuned for further tales of ass reaming.

Fire Update - Subhed Rebuilding

I scanned the contract and sent it to my brother-in-law to look over. He,
on his own initiative (and his own dime, bless him), showed it to his
lawyer. The lawyer agreed that with the exception of the "owner will
irrevocably transfer all insurance proceeds to the builder" section, it's
not a bad contract. The lawyer added some penalties for work delays, some
requirements to follow New York city and state labor laws, and to get all
permits. Nothing that I find too unreasonable. Now we have to see if the
builder agrees.

Fire Update - Subhed Rebuilding

The fundamental point -- and it's a shame the world has to be like this --
is "How can I make a contractor afraid of me?" Perhaps we can be nice and
replace the word "afraid" with "respect", but it all ends up in the same
place: how can I arrange things so a contractor won't even think of
doing me an injustice?


I'm seriously asking.

Fire Update - Subhed Rebuilding

"Owner hereby irrevocably assigns to Contractor any and all payments made
by Insurer in settlement of the Loss, and shall promptly execute all
documents required to enable Contractor to recieve said proceeds. Owner
specifically authorizes Contractor to execute and endorse Owner's name on
any and all documents required for the release directly to Contractor of
all proceds and advances paid by Insurer regarding the Loss"


Folks, if your house burns down just walk away and spend the rest of your
days roaming the Earth. Anything is better than dealing with this shit.

Fire Update - Subhed Posessions

A question from a friend: Is there anything you're secretly (or not so secretly) glad to have lost in that little house fire incident?

Lots of things. I've always been a bit of a magpie, storing everything with the rationale that I might need it someday. I never devoted the time or effort to clean it all out, and even if I had, the end result might have been the same: "I can't throw this away-- I might need it someday." So, in a way, this fire was a blessing because it did my cleaning for me. I've never denied that sometimes I need a push (or a disaster) to get started.

The loss of stuff can be broken into four categories:
A) Irreplaceable stuff I never looked at/used: It's a shame, but it's gone.
B) Replaceable stuff I never looked at/used: Who cares?
C) Irreplaceable stuff I frequently looked at/used: Losing this stuff hurts.
D) Replaceable stuff I frequently looked at/used: It can be replaced, so who cares?

Take for example my 700 videotapes. Some of these are homemade tapes, camcorder tapes, or extremely rare movies that are no longer available (or extremely difficult to find). I miss those. But am I really upset that I lost my copy of the Tribbles episode of Star Trek? Not in the least.

Same thing with my 2000 books. Some of those books are irreplaceable: an 1883 edition of Leaves of Grass, for instance. But my copy of Thomas L. Friedman's The World is Flat? No problem to replace.

The other thing is that not everything that can be replaced must be replaced. Do I need a copy of Thomas L. Friedman's The World is Flat? Probably not. Do I need a copy of the Tribbles episode of Star Trek? Not in the least. So, as I've known from about the week after the incident, this fire really might be a great gift.

Little fire incident?

Fire Update - Subhed Housing

My house has two bedrooms. One. Two.

So that I might live somewhere while my house gets rebuilt, the insurance company tried to find me an apartment. They're supposed to find me the equivalent of my burned out house, in size and amenities. They failed.

I went out searching and I found a one bedroom apartment for $1450/month, a good New York price.

The insurance company approved it. I need a place to live, they said, and the package was reasonable.

But it took them so long to approve it that I lost the apartment. However, at least I know they'll go for $1450/month, right?

So I found another apartment, a three bedroom duplex, for $1450/month. It has park and river views. It has north, south, east, and west views. This is known as a score.

The insurance company rejected it.

They'll pay for a place that's lesser or equal, but they won't pay for a place that is better than my original house. Even at the same price.

It's the Puritan ethic that remains alive in the hearts of insurance companies.

Can't pay for frivolity. Even if it costs the same.

Fire Update - Subhed Posessions

Those of you fortunate enough to have spent any time in my house might remember "The Money Jar" -- a giant glass carboy, about the size of a water cooler bottle, filled with change. When I got home, I'd empty my pocket change (except the pennies) into the jar; before I left to go out, I'd grab a handful of change from the jar. Once, my brother and I estimated from the weight that it contained between $500 and $700 in change.

It got up and walked away. I went to my house today and searched for it -- and it's not there. Did the firemen steal it? I sure hope not. Did the demolition crew steal it? Most likely. And of course, loose cash in the house is the one thing not covered by insurance.

A loss due to fire is annoying, but ultimately impersonal. I mean, you can't get angry at the fire itself. This, however, is pure theft, and it is infuriating.

And to think that I told the demolition crew that they were doing a good job.

Fire Update - Subhed Housing

I lost the apartment, because the insurance adjusters can't get their act together.

I am angry enough to kill the next person I come across.

Fire Update - Subhed Housing

The private adjusters negotiated an agreement in which I will rent this apartment for 12 months, and in which I will pay the $2500 broker's fee. I asked if I would get reimbursed for the broker's fee. They said that don't know. I asked if I would be responsible for breaking the lease if my house is repaired in less than 12 months. They said they don't know.

I asked them to find out or else I will not sign the paper. They said that they really need to get me into a stable living situation. I said if I'm not happy with this agreement, we start again from scratch.

I am this close to telling them to go fuck themselves -- I'm going to hit the road and they can pay $100 a night for me to drive around the country, looking for the American Dream.

Fire Update - Subhed Housing

Well, I found an apartment. I visited it, and it's nice enough. I handed everything over to the adjusters to handle all the details. Key detail: will the renter accept a 9 month lease?

The private adjuster I hired is also ... a contractor! Imagine that! He asked me to stop by his office today so we can talk about "the next step". The next step includes hiring an architect because, as I understand his explanation, only architects can hire contractors when a house needs to be rebuilt. The private adjuster drew up papers that gave him the go-ahead to get started with the renovation work on the house. I didn't sign the papers. Instead, I told him I wanted to have some other contractors bid on the project as well. He told me that other contractors might not have the skill required for the job --this is _fire_ reconstruction, you know, and that's a rather specialized talent.

I told him I wanted to have some other contractors bid on the project as well. He told me that other contractors would not be willing to put their own money up front for the reconstruction -- they'd force me to close my claim with the insurance company so that I could get my settlement. "And then what heppens when they open the wall and discover more damage? Your claim is settled! You're shit outta luck, scuse my French. The insurance adjuster is gonna say that to your face. In fact, Fred, the adjuster we're dealing with -- I know him. He'll laugh at you first, _then_ he'll tell you too bad."

I told him I wanted to have some other contractors bid on the project as well. He said that was a good idea. In fact, he encourages all his customers to get second bids.

So things are moving along, maybe. I have an apartment. Maybe.

I do have a copy of the policy, which I picked up from the mail today. I'm currently at a library computer, but when I get back to where I'm staying I can open it and read it at leisure.