JANUARY 22, 2026

These last few weeks have been a bit trying, to say the least. On Friday, January 9th, we went back to the house to see if we could recover anything from our basement. Most had been under three feet of water - water that came from above and not from the ground up. The pictures we took don't begin to express the pain of seeing all your years and the beauty of our 130-year-old home in shambles. No walls separating the rooms, dust, and bags of items that will be in a dump somewhere. Our lives taken down to nothing - it's painful.

On January 13th, my Mom, my children's Grammy, Gene's Mother-in-Law, passed away and joined my dad and many Angels in heaven. She lived an amazing 96.5 years, but it didn't make it any easier for her to go. As I sit here thinking about both my Mom & Dad, I believe that their strength will help me rise above this turbulent time; their love and passion, which they showed throughout their lives, live within me. So I guess this is where the fight will really begin...

I want people to understand that when our house was being destroyed by fire, it was a reminder of just how much these brick walls meant to us. It reminded me more than ever how important family is, and how fortunate we are to have the family that we have. Many do not have the same blessings.

" Privilege" may not be quite the right word when you read the rest of our story; maybe "fortunate," but I'm not really sure there is the right terminology.

In the early 2000s, well before there were programs to help victims of predatory lending, Gene was unemployed. Jobs were hard to come by, and we had 5 mouths to feed. It was the beginning of the recession, and we were in the middle of it all. Our older four remember quite clearly the tears, the fear of losing the home they lived in for 14 years. They watched their dad break down often because he worried about paying the bills while he worked hard doing dishes at friends' restaurants, making $8.50 an hour at a local grocery store. They remember being the kids who couldn't do things because we just couldn't afford the activities, sports, and movies. We lived on $1 Redbox movies after canceling our TV service. Thrift shopping was a way of life for us, and it wasn't quite "in fashion" the way it is today. One of our cars was repossessed because the freelance job I was working on went out of business. I measured our van to see how well 7 of us could live inside while we lost our home.

Though to some, it may seem like it wasn't a big deal, we had family who helped us buy an old, abandoned home in Pottstown. The fact that we could even have a roof over our head at that time is more than some were and are able to do in the same situation. But the pain wasn't any less. The embarrassment was just as great, and being grateful for that "privilege" would be an understatement.

So maybe you think I was cruel to state our house fire could have been prevented if the Mayor, Borough Council Members, and all of the above had a better plan.

Know that I know what the feeling of hopelessness was way before my home burnt down. I WANT to help those who are in our homeless population. I want to ensure that Sober homes are run correctly and, more importantly, that these social issues are not highly concentrated in our community due to our local government's lack of responsibility.

What if, instead of the homeless shelters being in our broke-ass town, some of the wealthier communities were held accountable to share in this burden?

What if we realize that free isn't free to those who have businesses, homes, and families in our town?

What if, instead of our Mayor thinking it's a novel plan to place a hotel for homeless people in the middle of businesses that now suffer the consequences of the addictions, mental health, and other social issues, we find REAL solutions?

In her own words, she admits she gets calls asking for a homeless person to be allowed back into the hotel after breaking the rules. She proudly stands by the fact that there are rules people must follow. But when they break the rules, they are left to wander the streets. To find shelter in one of the many empty buildings in town, to deal with their mental health issues alone, or to find more drugs to help them forget just how shitty their lives have become.

I'll get into more details about the sober houses and how they contribute to the homeless issue, but this isn't about that. This is about letting you know that we understand what it means to be broken. To feel helpless and have barely the ability to pray for something to hold on to. And although we have had a better outcome because we didn't let our pride stop us from finally asking for help, it wasn't an easy path we had to travel.

The house at 71 N Hanover had been abandoned for 2.5 years. The people who owned it were trying to flip it, which I truly believe Gene and my five kids could have done a better job. Footprints of paint were on the old hardwood floors; the rooms were painted in "ooops" colors for sure, and even I struggled to appreciate them.

We made our settlement on November 26th, 2009. The day before Thanksgiving, we had two separate settlements because the owners had a PFA against each other. We didn't officially move in until January 2010, but we wanted to celebrate in our very small way and give the kids some hope. We went to the house and, with Shyloh, who was barely 18 months old, went out to buy the biggest Christmas tree we could find. We had lights from the old house and placed them in the tree so the kids could see them when they came home from school. I don't believe I ever felt so many Angels surrounding me as at that moment when the kids got home, saw the tree, plugged in the lights, and the entire house fuses blew! It would be the start of a wonderful life. When the doorknob fell off the front door, I'd be reminded of the banister finial in "It's a Wonderful Life." I'd often tell the kids to remember those moments, because one day they might be the only memories you have left. I never imagined that we'd no longer have that front door knob, or the banister, the pieces of our lives we can't bring back.

So, where am I going with all this? Goals maybe? Plans to make a change not only for me, my family, but for those who are hopelessly wandering the streets, for those who can't get into the shelter because they pee hot. For those who have mental health issues that are being untreated, and for those who may have been pushed away and forgotten that they are human. I'm not looking to help with band-aid solutions. I'm definitely not looking for the photo ops we so often see our local government in. Real help means not throwing them away when they fall. There are programs, and I am going to find them. I will fight to help with real solutions. I will shout out the people who are failing our community. I will point fingers and hold them accountable. So hate me if you want, join me if you can. Understand I am not going away. I am not going to stop shouting about the wrongs being done to our community. And I will fight to do all I can to bring real long-term solutions. It's not going to happen overnight. My dad was a Marine for 21 years, my Mom raised 8 kids - often moving from one state to another with kids in tow. The fight is in me, and I don't intend to back down, and though I'm sure there will be moments I fail, I will always remember my daughter's teacher saying FAIL only means "First Attempt At Learning", lets go learn together...