When I moved from California to Minnesota in 1976, my culture shock included getting used to keys. Specifically, how people had no regard for them.
No one locked anything. There was no deadbolt on my in-laws’ door. My husband, Neal, would leave his keys in a running car if it was a “mite bit chilly.”
In Los Angeles we were open, but not that kind of open.
As a newlywed, I had to adjust to cousins and farmhands walking into our mobile home without knocking. “Well, hello there,” I’d say, wrapping my bathrobe a little tighter. “Just lookin’ for Neal,” they’d answer back while searching my fridge for coffee creamer.
One Sunday afternoon, we feasted on smoked turkey legs at Pillager’s Constitution Days festival.When the fire whistle blew, someone told us that our hog barn was on fire. We raced back to our farm to find the volunteer fire department and a large number of family, neighbors and friends—many of whom I’d met unexpectedly in my own living room—who came to see how they could help.
That day I came to appreciate my new home. The community had accepted me, they cared about our family, and they were there for us.
In Minnesota today, people cling to the dream of home but find they can’t pay for one.
Our challenge is unlocking the doors to affordable housing in order to build and sustain healthy communities. Having a safe, decent and affordable home to buy or rent is a right, and it’s an achievable goal. Permanent solutions are within our reach.
In this issue of IQ, we examine the recession-induced housing crisis from foreclosures to homelessness.To reflect reality, not all of our articles have a happy ending.We thank each featured family for having the courage to share their stories with Minnesota leaders.
Amid their own crisis, they hope to unlock doors for themselves and for others. Working together with our publishing partners—the Greater Minnesota Housing Fund, Minnesota Housing Finance Agency and USDA Rural Development—we do, too.