[help][signal to be boosted] save dave's house.
I have this friend; his name is Dave.
Dave is one of the best people that I know.
Dave is going to lose his house this winter, because of a story that's probably so familiar to you by now that you can sing the words.
Dave bought the business he worked for, which was thriving, before the events of last year crashed the economy like a bumper car. (He runs a courier service, the kind that mostly big corporate clients need...and a lot of those were gone, last year, and a lot more were cutting expenses until they figured out what was going to happen.)
Dave - like someone I am sure nearly every American knows at this point - is one of those people who was driving along doing the speed limit when the people driving the economy started turning up the radio and getting drunk at the wheel. It took a year of working himself nearly to death, but the business is back on track. It's doing well enough that Dave can again afford to hire another person coming up soon.
But in the process of keeping the business afloat, Dave has gotten behind on the mortgage. The house and the land are not in foreclosure yet, but it's coming.
Let me tell you about Dave's house.
Dave has a house on top of a bluff with seven-plus acres down below. Over the past 10+ years, Dave and his ex-wife and me and a whole host of our friends have turned the field into one of my favorite places on earth. Dave's field has a bar. Dave's field has a stage. Dave's field has twelve campsites cut into the perimeter, so people can camp down by the creek.
Abe the blind dog lives at Dave's house. In the field he can run around like he can see; there's nothing there to hurt him.
Used to be, the last Saturday of every month we had a party out at Dave's. The recession didn't kill that, but it put it into recess. We were all hopeful. And then we get the word from Dave. The house isn't foreclosed upon yet, but it's coming; the last Last Saturday Party on Dave's land is set for Halloween.
***
Dave would never ask you, the Internet, or us, his friends on and off the web, for help. It took his ex-wife and other friends of the party to tell us what we lacked to save the house and the land.
Seven thousand dollars.
***
Dave is not a traveling bard. Dave is not a master wordsmith. But Dave is one of the good people. One who held on and tried to keep making it work in circumstances beyond his control. Dave's the kind of guy who will give and give and give and give and never ask, ever.
So we, his friends, are asking for him. Not just for Dave, but for all of us. Dave's land is a sacred place, in the usage that means "set apart." We have all made it that way. The thought that this might all get buried and sold off at auction for want of so little - for want of seven hundred good-hearted people with ten dollars to spare - makes me sick.
But Internet, I have faith in you.
***
Can you help us?
save_dave is open. There will be auctions; local friends as well as friends online are getting items together.
For now: boost signal. And if you can, donate.
A CPA friend of Dave's is taking the donations, which should go via paypal to sabrina.k.swafford in the direction of gmail dot com. Use the header "Save Dave's House", & send it as a gift donation. Sabrina will be keeping us posted on our progress.
Here is my promise to you: any of you who help here and, in future, are passing through my part of the world on the last Saturday of the month will be my guest...and I will tip your bartender for you. And you will see how it is that we have all created this place of beauty and joy and respite out in rural Tennessee, and you will see that it is good.
Tell your friends, friends of mine. Ask them if they'll help us save Dave's house. I'll have five Snake God's Preferred raspberry cakes in the auction, come time. If you'd like to donate items, tell me. If you know an eccentric millionaire who keeps seven grand in her bathrobe pocket, please advise. Whatever you can do, I ask that you do - for my friend, who to you is an anonymous stranger, who does not deserve to lose it all for such a little thing.
In love, gratitude and never-ending hope,
popelizbet
Dave is one of the best people that I know.
Dave is going to lose his house this winter, because of a story that's probably so familiar to you by now that you can sing the words.
Dave bought the business he worked for, which was thriving, before the events of last year crashed the economy like a bumper car. (He runs a courier service, the kind that mostly big corporate clients need...and a lot of those were gone, last year, and a lot more were cutting expenses until they figured out what was going to happen.)
Dave - like someone I am sure nearly every American knows at this point - is one of those people who was driving along doing the speed limit when the people driving the economy started turning up the radio and getting drunk at the wheel. It took a year of working himself nearly to death, but the business is back on track. It's doing well enough that Dave can again afford to hire another person coming up soon.
But in the process of keeping the business afloat, Dave has gotten behind on the mortgage. The house and the land are not in foreclosure yet, but it's coming.
Let me tell you about Dave's house.
Dave has a house on top of a bluff with seven-plus acres down below. Over the past 10+ years, Dave and his ex-wife and me and a whole host of our friends have turned the field into one of my favorite places on earth. Dave's field has a bar. Dave's field has a stage. Dave's field has twelve campsites cut into the perimeter, so people can camp down by the creek.
Abe the blind dog lives at Dave's house. In the field he can run around like he can see; there's nothing there to hurt him.
Used to be, the last Saturday of every month we had a party out at Dave's. The recession didn't kill that, but it put it into recess. We were all hopeful. And then we get the word from Dave. The house isn't foreclosed upon yet, but it's coming; the last Last Saturday Party on Dave's land is set for Halloween.
***
Dave would never ask you, the Internet, or us, his friends on and off the web, for help. It took his ex-wife and other friends of the party to tell us what we lacked to save the house and the land.
Seven thousand dollars.
***
Dave is not a traveling bard. Dave is not a master wordsmith. But Dave is one of the good people. One who held on and tried to keep making it work in circumstances beyond his control. Dave's the kind of guy who will give and give and give and give and never ask, ever.
So we, his friends, are asking for him. Not just for Dave, but for all of us. Dave's land is a sacred place, in the usage that means "set apart." We have all made it that way. The thought that this might all get buried and sold off at auction for want of so little - for want of seven hundred good-hearted people with ten dollars to spare - makes me sick.
But Internet, I have faith in you.
***
Can you help us?
save_dave is open. There will be auctions; local friends as well as friends online are getting items together.
For now: boost signal. And if you can, donate.
A CPA friend of Dave's is taking the donations, which should go via paypal to sabrina.k.swafford in the direction of gmail dot com. Use the header "Save Dave's House", & send it as a gift donation. Sabrina will be keeping us posted on our progress.
Here is my promise to you: any of you who help here and, in future, are passing through my part of the world on the last Saturday of the month will be my guest...and I will tip your bartender for you. And you will see how it is that we have all created this place of beauty and joy and respite out in rural Tennessee, and you will see that it is good.
Tell your friends, friends of mine. Ask them if they'll help us save Dave's house. I'll have five Snake God's Preferred raspberry cakes in the auction, come time. If you'd like to donate items, tell me. If you know an eccentric millionaire who keeps seven grand in her bathrobe pocket, please advise. Whatever you can do, I ask that you do - for my friend, who to you is an anonymous stranger, who does not deserve to lose it all for such a little thing.
In love, gratitude and never-ending hope,
popelizbet