The final payment of the mortgage syndrome by John Joyce

                    

            Now when you are  born,  married or die it is generally agreed upon  when this happens, and congratulations and condolences generally flow on cue. There is often a party and if you are crafty it is held at your friend’s  clean house. If you win a 10km snow shoe race or a chess tournament  you might win a medal and  a trophy  but not at the same time  however  you  will  be applauded  and  savagely criticized   by last year winners: usually at the same time. 

             There is one   momentous occasion in our lives  when no congratulations ensue. Unlike the 10km snow shoe race or chess tournament  there  is even a nagging doubt that the event takes place. But it is the big day and with a  personal best of  19 years 4 months and  3 days  you  visit  your financial  institution  to close out   the  mortgage.    

 You will own your own home. You expect the managers to be there in their best clothes and  friends and relations  to take  photographs at this happy occasion. Maybe your wife should have taken off the morning to witness  “Our moment?”

            Trepidation  before and after the visit to the financial  institution  persists.  Sonia has all the forms excerpt one  which is in  Daniel’s office who is  small business loans officer. Claire takes over from Sonia  and brings you to her counter  and has you sign  two more forms saying that the small one has to be  mailed to the register  office  in  Slowminister  who within  13 working days will  mail  the  clear title to your  lawyer’s office.  There however appears to be no current address for Scher, Scher and  Stein.  Daniel appears and says everything will be approved  within  a month    when you will receive all the original  forms except the financial institution  copy of the release.

            If you drink champagne, which I don’t, I suppose you could do so five weeks later when you mail a fat cheque,  addressed  to the new offices of Scher, Scher,  Kerr, Stein and Stein.. Two months later on a rainy Tuesday morning  you  stuff  many forms, into your  safety deposit box.. You can now tell your  snow shoe running buddies and  the chess club you are  mortgage free. Will they congratulate you?     


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