This is a fictional five-part series containing real estate letters written by bidders and presented to the sellers of a local family's estate. Enjoy.
Dear Madam,
My real estate agent told me I had to write a letter to you
explaining who I am and why I want your house, so here goes.
I am from Brooklyn, born and bred. My wife Rosalie, who grew
up on the same block as the actor Vincent Schiavelli, recently sold our third-generation brownstone after tripping over a rat in the kitchen that outweighed our dog. So
now, we live with my cousin Mickey. He and his wife Gina have been good to us but
frankly, we can’t wait to get the hell out.
Congratulations to me. I survived 45 years in the sanitation
industry and worked my last day two weeks ago. I started counting the days
until retirement after falling off the garbage truck last year and breaking my
collarbone in two places, clean through. Laying in front of St. Finbar’s Church
waiting for the ambulance, I swore to God (and Deacon Hector Blanco, who put a scratchy
wool blanket under my head and prayed over me) that as soon as I was out of the
hospital I was (a). going to confession and (b). telling my boss I was quitting my job.
My orthopedic doc suggested I get away while I was on worker’s
comp recovering and Rosalie said let's go upstate for a bit. Both
my wife’s family and mine used to vacation in Lake George when we were
teenagers. Back then our fathers had to drive up route 9 because the Northway
wasn’t even finished. Remember that? People had a lot more patience back then. People
also had a lot less garbage, I gotta tell ya.
So, we vacationed a little and hired a realtor before returning to
Brooklyn. He’s Italian, which Rosalie insisted on, and the one who sent me the listing for your house today.
I’ve become interested in what you might call ‘environmental
matters’ over the years. I saw firsthand as a garbageman what too many people,
too much crap, and nowhere to put it can do to a city. I’d like to ride out my
glory years with free parking, a vegetable garden, and some mountains. I found a decent group to sit with at the cigar shop when we were there and my wife, a helluva
performer, will probably end up spending all her time at that community theater
downtown. The last thing she was part of in the Heights was the show ‘Gypsy’
and even though she’s 70, she’s still got legs like Bernadette Peters.
So, Rosalie and I ask for your consideration in this matter
and hope you will give us Brooklynites a chance at your nice little house. We are
driving up tomorrow to lay eyes on it and are prepared to make a full priced offer…with a little something on the side for your trouble.
A domani,
Angelo Canizzaro
#mushroomtumbler
