The move changed his life. He went from five bedrooms in Baltimore — so much space he didn't fill it all up — to one bedroom in Forestville. Before he left, he cast off possessions like a sailor on a sinking ship, giving furniture to friends, donating clothes to charity, selling dishes and taking his cat to an animal shelter because his new apartment doesn't allow pets.
The cat, a pretty long-hair named Go-Go, was adopted within a day. It's the one loss that chokes him up when he thinks of it.
Other things he was glad to leave behind: The long commute, the neighborhood crime, the heavy-duty window bars and metal security screens around the back door that made him feel caged in. The $1,350 mortgage payment and heating bills that sometimes topped $500 a month.
Despite the warnings about landlords leery of renters with poor credit, Farmer said he had no problem finding an apartment complex that would take him. His monthly rent: $1,000, with utilities and gym membership included.
"I'll be saving a lot of money," he said.
That's priority one. He came to Baltimore to build a bigger nest egg and help send his four siblings' kids to college so they would get a better start than he did. He left five years later with credit ruined and savings depleted. Because he anticipates that Chase might try to garnishee his wages, he's planning to file for bankruptcy protection this week.
With real estate off the table as an investment strategy, his new financial plan is spending less and working more. "I've already lined up a part-time job where I'll be working on the weekend," he said.
Now, more than a month removed from the house he left behind, Farmer says he feels like he has a chance to start again. "I am so at peace," he said.
The morning that movers put what remained of his life into a small truck, he was anything but.
"I should have walked a long time ago," he said in frustration to Duane Saunders, a friend who lives in West Baltimore.
"Live and learn," Saunders replied.
Farmer realizes he got caught up in the mass frenzy of buying. He sees in retrospect that purchasing three homes in a city he didn't know well was a risky move. But he was infuriated, as he left Fulton Avenue for the last time, that his finances were a disaster while the financial giants whose lax practices inflated the housing bubble got bailed out at taxpayer expense.
Never, he says, will he buy a home with borrowed money again.
"I don't trust the system anymore," he said. "The American dream, it's a lie. It's a setup. You're a slave to this debt."
jamie.smith.hopkins@baltsun.com
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