I knew this was coming.
Of all the things Karl Cortese fought for during my grandmothers conservatorship, the #1 thing out of the gate was he wanted to sell her house. He wanted to lock her up in a memory care unit, throw all her stuff out (or sell it). It was the very first thing he sent out to the family.
The case dragged on for years, but at least grandma got to pass in her home. It was just sad though, they had her on hospice 6 years, denying her anything but tranquilizers and pain meds. Nothing to really help slow the progression of the Alzheimer’s. Every year Karl would bring a new petition until we were told to go to mediation by the court. Then he was no longer allowed to use trust assets. He figured out a backdoor way, by convincing the court appointed conservator (Lassahn / Stiles) to take a case for him. BTW, if you ever want your elder relative to be drugged up to the point where they can barely function so you can “Marshall trust assets”, Give Lassahn/Stiles a call. They’ll be more than happy drugged up, they’ll just sleep till they die.
One of the things that really stuck out to me though was just how cold they were in this entire process. Karl’s wife Cheryl was quoted telling my grandmother “Start getting rid of stuff, we don’t want to have to clean it out after you die”
After she died, they began the process of getting the house ready for sale. One of my friends in the neighborhood walked by, and saw her out there yelling out instructions to the men working.
Cheryl had never worked a day in her life in the last 20 years. She was a “housewife” but she was employed as a book keeper for the trust, essentially entering things into quickbooks for a very nice salary. Something many people in the family always questioned. How much book keeping needs to be done for 3 triple net properties with 5 tennants? That’s 5 rent checks a month. I’m sure it was really empowering for her to stand around barking out orders to a work crew.
The house had always been a hub for the family, for holidays, or just to sit in the kitchen with my grandmother for her sage advice. It represented the struggles they overcame to get there, and the pride in who they were. Every bit of that house was designed with their personalities in mind.
Christmas Eve was always a monumental occasion. My grandparents pride in their religion gracefully on display in a purpose build alcoves told the world, “We are Catholics” A giant tree lit up the front yard through the large pane glass window. A fire would roar giving the room a feeling of a warm hug. Years before it went for sale, my grandmother had been pressured into getting rid of Mary and Joseph. Today, just a sterile appeal to the lowest common denominator.
That’s not even real wood they put in. Cheap LVP planks. As tasteless as the mayonaise I’m sure Cheryl eats straight from the jar by the spoonful. No self respecting Italian would EVER dress a home this elegant in something so cheap, tacky, and tasteless. Even my mother in law in her humble home in Almaden Valley redid her floors with real wood.
A kitchen once so grand, with custom cabinets that wrapped around the space, 2 sinks, meticulously maintained tile countertops. This was where the great feasts were prepared for holidays. This was the central meeting room for the family. Where grandma would put on coffee, and sit at the round table with those that sought court with her for her sage wisdom and advice.
Now erased with tasteless pre-fab cabinets fitted into the space. A sink removed. Tile replaced with your average home depot countertop. I could see where someone would want the linoleum replaced, but again with LVP, the poor mans compromise when they can’t afford tile, or real wood. Shutters that once gave privacy, or shielded the kitchen from the sun now torn away.
The dining room, where the finest china was on display, windows once adorned with curtains hung from custom wrought iron curtain rods and great feasts where the family once dined together.
Now soulless, lifeless, all that was once grand about this room stripped down. At least they left the candelabra’s and the chandelier.
The front lawn where children would play, and my grandmother would display the level of love and care she had for her house. Paths of masonary brickwork lead guests from one part of the property to the other. In years prior to this there was roses on the perimeter of the property, the neighborhood knew it as “The house with all the roses” Landscape once so lush one would think it was a park.
Left to die because Karl deemed watering “Too expensive”. Where there was once grass, cheap home depot concrete pavers that don’t even match the fine masonry paths, basically the LVP of backyards. Cheap $5 a bag mulch where grass once grew. Nothing that says, “This place is loved, nurtured, and cared for” and what it does say is, “Cheap facade over our neglect”
Just like they treated my grandma.
Karl had every opportunity to lead the family. One of my grandmothers biggest regrets was thinking that Karl was going to lead the family and bring it together. One of the saddest things my wife and I witnessed was years after they stopped showing up on Holidays, one Thanksgiving my grandmother had a glimmer of hope in her voice. “Karl’s family is coming this year! We can’t start eating until they arrive!” We waited 2 hours. The food got cold. Finally she called, and we could hear her from the other room. “Oh Ok. Oh alright, well you have a good Thanksgiving!” Then she hung up the phone, and you could see in her face that she was heartbroken. It was the saddest, most somber holiday dinner we ever had there.
Karl has been waiting years for this opportunity to ride out the rest of his life on the hard work my grandparents had done. Unlike every other branch of the family, the man has no scruples when it comes to preserving the family legacy. The Mezzanottes kept Lena’s house. Vince’s house is still in the family. Great Grandpa’s house still belongs to the family. Maybe I personally cannot set foot in any of these places, but I can take comfort in knowing that the family keeping them, hold them in honor of what family that went before us, did for us.
For Karl it’s just for him.
To the person who buys my grandma’s house,
1. Don’t overpay for it. The electrical work was a pretty penny, but the paint job is trash. Go out on the balcony of the upstairs bedroom and look up, you’ll see paint flaking.
2. I truly hope that you will restore the house. What they did to it was like putting ketchup on a fine steak. I have nothing against you at all, I just hope you will love that house like my grandma did.
3. Remember, this house was in the family for generations. We made a lot of memories there. For those of us that did honor and cherish my grandparents, it’s where we made our last stand for her, and our memories. May that house bring your family together, and take this all as a precautionary tale to not let a single child of yours take control of everything unless you are sure beyond a doubt they won’t screw everyone.
