Last Saturday's forum on affordable housing was the most thought-provoking event I've attended in a long time.
Rising real-estate prices look pretty good to those of us who own real estate, although we tend to grumble about what those big assessments will do to our taxes. But the forum's honest appraisal of the down side of the rising cost of housing shocked me out of my complacency.
When I first came to the Sunshine Coast, I rented a rustic cabin deep in the forests of Roberts Creek for $350 a month. The place was tiny and so drafty that my housecoat was covered with scorch marks from huddling too close to the wood stove. But the price was right, the landlord was friendly, and the site was idyllic. I have warm memories of the eight years I lived there.
I was fortunate to find such a great place to rent, but not uniquely fortunate. At that time, many of my friends were also paying modest rents for charming little places. That situation has now changed dramatically: the rent prices are much higher than they were in 1991, and many of those suites, cabins and old summer homes are no longer for rent at all. Often, they've been converted into bed and breakfasts, bulldozed to make space for a new house or bought and renovated by new owner-occupants escaping the insanity of the Vancouver real estate market.
My husband and I decided to buy a house in 1998, when we were expecting our first child. Again, fate smiled on us: house prices on the Coast were as low as they had been in 20 years, and interest rates had dropped as well. With help from my parents, who were able to give us a big start on our down payment, we bought our piece of the rural-suburban dream in Halfmoon Bay.
Even so, it was a stretch to afford the mortgage. If we were trying to buy a house today, it would be out of the question, despite the lower interest rates available. Like most people, our incomes have not increased to match the zooming real estate market on the Sunshine Coast.
My heart goes out to the families who are now paying stiff rents as they save to buy their first home, all the while watching property prices float further and further out of reach. I worry for the young adults who are eager to stretch their wings and move out into their first apartment but who cannot afford to leave the nest. I worry more for those young people who don't have a nest to fly home to. I see them sometimes in court, charged with shoplifting or burglary and unable to tell the judge where they intend to live when they get out of jail.
I wonder about my own future when I hear stories of seniors struggling to pay the taxes on homes they bought 25 years ago. I think of my sister-in-law's future when I hear of the waiting list for housing subsidies for disabled people.
Truly, there but for the grace of God go I - or any one of us. Those of us who lucked out in the housing-price casino need to address this crisis as seriously as those who are on the losing side of the game.
