Tricks (and Traps) of the Trade – Buying a Home in NJ

Often, as a real estate professional, I make assumptions about what my clients do and do not know, prior to the onset of a transaction.  For any first time home buyer – or even a buyer who hasn’t done so before in NJ or in the past few years, can find the process to be a bit of a mystery.  There are a number of tips that I feel are incredibly useful – to help your transaction move along just a bit more smoothly…

Contract details can be very important, and while I am sure your agent is very good, there are a couple of things to watch out for, as a rule of thumb:

1)    Make sure that you have adequate time to obtain your mortgage commitment – 3 weeks is pushing it, and with any non-conventional loan, you may need 4-5 weeks at least – so make sure you have enough time to get your paperwork in and have the appraisal done by the bank.

2)    Additional provisions in a contract can be useful, especially to protect buyers from difficulty.  One way to ensure the ability to negotiate is adding an appraisal clause – so if the home does NOT appraise, there is a clearly outlined ability to cancel the contract if you choose not to continue with the transaction.

Inspections are a vital part of the home buying process:

1)    An average home inspection for a single family home in NJ should take about 2.5 to 3.5 hours, including the termite and radon.  Inspectors should take the time to speak to you about issues, as well as of offer tips for safety and maintenance.  Oh, and anyone that is charging more than $600 (including radon and termite) is taking you for a ride.  As a matter of fact, most inspections will cost less.  Don’t be dazzled by price – it isn’t necessarily an indication of quality.

2)    If you have a fireplace, you may want to consider bringing in a chimney inspector – you have to pay for it, but worth the money if there are expensive issues that can’t be easily seen.

3)    Tank sweeps are vital – an unexpected underground oil storage tank is a potential liability.  For any house with a live underground oil tank, make sure to test for particulates and that the owner has tank insurance.

Mortgages:

1)    The first thing I always tell me clients is “SHOP AROUND!”  The large banks are great, but individual mortgage brokers can have access to loan products that others don’t – and also have creative ideas on how to keep your costs down.  The one question to ask the broker is “DO YOU ORIGINATE YOUR OWN LOANS, OR DO YOU SELL THEM THE DAY YOU CLOSE THEM?”  This is important, because for any broker that sells immediately after closing, there can be a delay as they find a buyer for your loan. 

2)    Don’t lock your rate in to end on the proposed closing date for your home!  On the off chance that there are unforeseen delays, try to hold off on your rate lock to anticipate potential issues – much easier than trying to scramble for a rate extension, or having to pay points last minute.

3)    Make sure that you pay attention to your mortgage commitment expiration date – once again, no last minute scrambling.

Looking for the right attorney:

1)    Do they call you back?  They better call you back in a timely fashion.

2)    Flat fees – really no more than $1200-1400 for a transaction.

3)    Most importantly, are they a full time real estate attorney in NJ?  Don’t pick a trial litigator that only does real estate on Fridays – you won’t get the customer service that you need for a smooth transaction.  Trust me on this one!

So, just a few notes on things that might make your transaction a little easier – after, buying a home is stressful enough…

Columbus Was an Immigrant!

East Hanover, as I discovered, has the region’s largest Columbus Day Parade & celebration, which I attended today, along with my 4 year old, who is a SUCKER for a marching band (when asked what he wants to be when he grows up, his standard answer is “bagpiper, because they march in parades”).  As I was returning to the shady spot I had staked out along the massive parade route from the port-o-potties (yes, this parade is big enough to have port-a-john stations…), I crossed the parking lot where a wide array of vintage and muscle car collectors were displaying their vehicles.  One gentleman in a gorgeous, baby blue 1956 Cadillac was pulling into the lot, and arguing about the spot he had been directed to.  “I don’t want to be with all them damn foreign cars, I wanna be there next to the American cars!  It’s Columbus Day and this car is American!”  There may have been an epithet or two as well, but who needs to share that, right?

I found myself really perplexed by the comment, which seemed to be somewhat paradoxical…or at least going against the grain of the very holiday itself.  This is the commemoration of the day that Christopher Columbus (an Italian), sailing for Spain, landed in the New World, and specifically, the Bahamas.  The Italian immigrants that came to this country in the mid-19^th century were seen for generations to come as foreigners themselves, fighting for homes, jobs and the right to worship God as Catholics.  Columbus Day is a symbol of that struggle, a celebration of Italian heritage and the collective strength of a people who came as “Italians” and remained as “Americans.”  I found the man’s comment shocking because I just couldn’t comprehend the idea that being co-opted into the American melting pot gives license to any man to separate himself from anyone else who also seeks that privilege and right.  I imagine that he may have been a proponent of “buying American,” but the “foreign” car he was referring to was a Japanese brand, undoubtedly now built in a US plant.   

As part of the Asian immigration wave that began after 1965, and myself being foreign-born, this comment cuts me to the core.  Because I am like that Japanese car – I am a real estate agent, a home owner and a tax payer.  I’m a member of the PTA, attended Sunday school, vacation at Disney World and VOTE my heart every time.  Maybe I’m not Italian, but my husband is, and my son carries proudly his father’s name and MINE…”Chu-Ricci.”  I guess my perspective is that I am just as thankful to Christopher Columbus and Queen Isabella of Spain for finding the Americas, setting into the play the events that lead to my American life.  Columbus Day, to me, is not just for Italian Americans, but for all immigrants, especially those that have the honor of calling themselves American, by birth or by naturalization.  And some grumpy old guy in a classic car can never take that away.

Columbus Day is essentially a patriotic holiday much in the vein of the 4^th of July, only without the fireworks or sheet cake with strawberry stripes and blueberry stars.  However, as far as patriotic holidays go, this one always seems flooded by politicians with their shiny teeth and lacquered hair, waving from vintage American cars – an image that brings to the surface a sense of nostalgia, of a time when things were better and life was easier and honest work was all a man expected out of life.  Perhaps it’s because Columbus Day is so close to November elections…the flesh-pressers just can’t pass up the chance to campaign.  This tinges the holiday for me…an underlying, subtle sense of discontent that follows politicians around like a lingering odor…”vote for me…I’ll make you rich…I’ll keep you safe…let’s take back America…”  From who?  From your neighborhood Vietnamese shop owner?  From the Greek family who runs the diner on Valley and Main?  From the ex-pat Brits who moved down the street 5 years ago when he was transferred by his company?  From the guy who owns the garage in town who you can’t tell where the heck he’s from because you’ve never heard a name like his before and he looks like he could be any number of things?  Why can’t this holiday just be about loving this country, no matter who you are?

And to the gentleman in the Caddy – remember, it’s only been about 6 decades since the end of WWII, and discrimination against Italians began to decline.  That’s not that long ago – it certainly isn’t long enough ago to forget what it means to be an immigrant in America. 

How I failed my son in school...and what I can do the FIX it...

A client of of mine recently expressed concern about her younger son, who is undoubtedly, advanced academically – I mean, I have seen this kid read AND comprehend material that many high schoolers would have difficulty with. Despite being in a multi-age class, the material being presented in his 1^st & 2^nd grade classroom just wasn't compelling to him. Now, mind you, he goes to a good school. A VERY good public school – great test scores, great faculty, and as much as you can get from a public school in a country where public school funding is the government wallflower of “let's-just-take-a-little-more-from-you.” It reminded me that no matter how good your school is, public or private, the most important thing to ensure your child excels, is parental involvement.

My own son attended a local Montessori pre-school last year for his 3's, and it was, needless to say, an experience that I found to be an ill fit. Now, regardless of the whole set of Montessori principals, which I do believe in for the right child (my son, is NOT ideal for a self-directing environment...), I found that he left to his self-direct, would wander aimless from activity to activity. Being somewhat precocious on some skills and behind on others, I found that casual interactions...even parent-teacher conferences weren't sufficient in getting to the root of how best to TEACH him. The school was lovely, but they did little to further his already advancing reading and comprehension skills, and instead focused much of their efforts on socialization and direction following. This is not a surprise – my son could use work on both. But without a way to engage him on what he DOES love, they had a hard time getting him to do what he DIDN'T want to do.

I, of course, missed all of this – went right under my radar – I mean, when we talked, he was always “improving at listening” and “getting better at following directions.” This sounded like progress, right?  Until the very last two months of the school year, when the headmistress advised that I consider “getting him tested.” “For what?” I ask, completely blindsided. “Well, ask your pediatrician – he just can't sit still and follow direction,” they tell me. I think that is teacher codes for “attention deficit,” but since he is only 3, no one wants to be the one to start THAT ball down the aisle... So with one sentence, everything I thought I knew about my son and his educational standing was completely blown out of the water.

I then proceeded to discover, a week later, at a field trip to a giant petting zoo disguised as a farm (Green Meadows in Hazlet – lovely day trip, by the way...), that despite my telling them several times, they hadn't realized the extent of my son's reading capability. When standing in front of the donkey paddock, my son looks at the sign and says “Pancho? That's not a Pancho, it's a donkey!” (obviously the name of said donkey). The teacher next to him was amazed that he had read the word on the sign – a word he was unfamiliar with and had to sound out with a solid grasp of phonics. At that moment, I realized just how little they knew of my son's capabilities, and how little they were equipped to deal with his potential attention-based issues. I also realized, with great humiliation, how little I had understodd of the situation and done to advocate for him. I walked away feeling it was a waste of year - not to mention the pricey tuition – but mostly, I was sad that he didn't get the most he could have from the experience.

So I set out to find ways that a parent can take a more active role in their child's educational process, and my sister-in-law, an elementary school teacher in CA who has taught in every environment possible – from inner city schools to Jewish day school - helped me to define a few key points on how to keep the lines of communication open with your child's school:

• Go to the first meet and greet – even if you have to take part of the day off work – it's worth it to know who will be shaping your child's mind/body/soul for the next 9 months. Make sure you also know any of the paraprofessionals that may be working with your child.
• Find a small block of time, even if it is just 10 minutes, to introduce what your child's strengths are – trust me, they will find the weaknesses after just two weeks in the classroom, but a child's strongest suits can often be hidden in shyness or even lost on a sea of children with greater immediate needs. A good teacher will cleverly use your child's strengths in the classroom to positively affect the entire class.
• Volunteer, volunteer, volunteer. It's time consuming and we all cringe at the idea of a bake sale fundraiser, but find the time to do at least one event per year – it's the best way to keep your ear to ground about new developments at school and how they may affect your child.
• If you feel that the material is not working for your child – be it too basic or too advanced, bring in supplemental materials that your child may enjoy working on at home, and ask the teacher to find ways to implement them. They should be able to find ways to integrate the material, and if they resist, you can always continue the work at home on your own.
• When you prepare for parent conferences, have your questions ready to go – this way you can make the best use of your time with the teachers.
• If issues do arise in the classroom, ask your teachers how they are addressing them, and find ways to support at home. Since my preschooler has some early signs of potential attention-based issues, the teacher's approach at school, which does seem to be having a positive affect on his abilities to focus, we mirror at home as much as possible.
• Funding is always an issue with schools, and with budgets slashed for “non-essential” programs, such as art, music and drama, look for ways in which you can either help provide funds for specific projects (getting a local business to sponsor) or if there are talented members of the community who may be interested in giving their time for a special class event here or there.

I have a special place in my heart for the Marshall School in South Orange – this is the school that my son will be attending once he hits Kindergarten. In my duties as a real estate agent, I often arrange and attending school tours with my clients, and I was especially impressed by this school. You could tell at the end of last year that the schools were really smarting after the funding cuts, and on a tour of the Marshall School, I saw a beautiful quilt, clearly a proudly displayed class project. Out of curiosity, I asked the tour guide (one of the administrators) where they got the money for this project. She replied, “The teacher who did this researched, wrote and received a grant for this project. We're very proud of how proactive our teachers are.” I can't wait for my kid to get her!

I suppose that there is no panacea for the issues with our American public school system, but it really is a choice to make the most of what it provides to our children. I hope I don't appear to be overbearing, but better that than oblivious as before. I see now that I am the best advocate for my child in the system, and I won't fail him again. Oh, and by the way, now he knows that “Pancho” is the name of the donkey...

LOSING MY "MOVING FROM THE CITY" BLUES

So a client and good friend confesses to me last week that after being in NJ for two years, he is finally getting used to it and feeling more positive and upbeat.  He, like most of us in Montclair, Glen Ridge, Maplewood/South Orange, and other Essex County towns are NYC transplants - those who discovered that trying to fit ourselves and children into our 800 square foot 2 bedroom apartments in Brooklyn was cruel, both to them and us!  So we look west to the Garden State, and discover that the American Dream is available in dutch colonial form on lots of 60x150, and if you are lucky, a family room on the first floor...and oh, those hardwood floors...gotta love that!

My husband dragged me kicking and screaming out here several years ago - after dealing with arbitrary fits of "subway rage" on the 1 train, and having a moment where I "outcrazied a crazy" on the streets, Raf decided he had had enough, and that it was time to find some space and to feel some grass under our toes before I ended up on NY1 as a tragically amusing headline story.  We made the move out to Maplewood, NJ, to Plymouth Avenue, a street that some might objectively call "the NICEST street in the world."  You may think I am exaggerating for effect, but really only slightly - on the day our two 24-ft trucks pulled up to the house, neighbors emerged from picturesque red doors and from behind trim rows of evergreen hedges to welcome us with smiles, stories and a variety of nut-free, glutenless confections.  It was overwhelming - we couldn't understand why they were being so NICE.  What did they want from us?  Was this a cult?  Some more crunchy version of the Stepfords?  I was intrigued, but wary.

Fall rolled into winter, and 3 months of bitter cold and snow kept most people indoors, and I fell prey to the winter glumness that many feel seasonally.  I spent my days working long hours, trapped indoors during the precious daylight hours, and trudging through the filthy winter streets of NY, where I was still working at Bellevue Hospital (yeah, that's a cheerful place).  I started to feel isolated from my friends, most of whom were still in the city.  I missed Central Park and the zoo, Ollie's Noodle House, the Museum of Natural History and the bustle of the theatres in Times Square.  I was depressed enough that I began to look at apartments in NYC again - thinking maybe we needed a little city studio for all those nights I would work late and need to meet friends and colleagues for dinner or drinks...or what about that romantic weekend in the city we could have once a month, rigtht?  huh?  sound good?  I was planning my grand return to urban fabulousness, much to my husband's chagrin.  He made me a wager - if I still felt this way after 1 whole year, we would consider moving back to the city.  I knew this was a bet that I would win...after all, I never lose.
Well, it's a bet I lost. 

One early spring afternoon, I looked out my window and saw something for the first time....new sun that is indescribably bright - perhaps because your eyes had grown accustomed to the greyness of winter.  Kids rode their bikes in the street and cars drove slowly past and waved.  Neighbors emerged from their houses, magically pregnant and with new haricuts to herald the arrival of spring!  It turns out the park across the street was a weekend magnet for little league games and spontaenous local soccer matches, with a tennis court to boot for all to use (well, I only used it once - let's not get into my ankle-twisting clumsiness on the court...ahem).  It took a little bit for us to let our guards down, but by the time they asked me to tag along for a dinner trip to Bunny's Pizzeria in South Orange with a group of families on the block, I was hooked.  These people were friendly, and I wanted more.

Getting involved with the neighborhood association, getting involved in the Preschool at Sharey Tefilo and even joining the public library are all things that have helped me to find my roots in this community.  I've made wonderful new friends and am looking forward to a post-holiday regifting potluck next weekend - there'll be lots of new people to meet there, and I can't wait to pawn off this really silly electronic gadget that we got from a cheap uncle who seems to think I am a teeage boy (I am sure one of the dads will love it).  So now I enjoy the Turtleback Zoo in West Orange and get my noodle soup at Cafe 88 in Livingston.  I get my culture from the Newark Museum and Montclair Art Museum, and music or theatre I want, I get from the South Orange Performing Arts Center or the Papermill Playhouse in Millburn.  I can't wait for my son to play Little League, and moms night out at Diva Lounge in Montclair in February is on my calendar...woo hoo, bring on the multi-coloured girly drinks!  Oh, and Central Park?  Who needs Central Park when I can swing from a hammock under the giant, ancient maple trees in my backyard?  My husband was right...I just had to give it a chance...

PS - we got rid of the studio.