A tale of two Robs

By Matt Elerding
The Portland Upside
March 2010

Photo by Matt Elerding

While doing his Little League Dad duties of encouraging his young son to keep his chin up, “Baseball Rob” unknowingly becomes an inspiration to his close friends.

In my job as a mortgage loan officer I write occasional articles, essays and blog posts on the current state of this unraveling industry. But I just don’t have it in me to pen another depressing manifesto about the current state of real estate and mortgage lending.

Even if you’re not directly tied to the real estate world, you understand that we’ve all been through a rough period of change these past couple of years. And if you’ve been touched at all by this change, then this story is meant for you.

It’s a story about two guys named Rob.

I met the first Rob in the spring of 2007 when we both added the role of Little League Dad to our parental résumés, a title that carries brimming levels of responsibility, leadership, and above all, an unbelievable amount of time.

“Baseball Rob” and I arrived every Tuesday afternoon, the trunks of our cars crammed with baseball mitts, bats and dirty cleats that would forever decimate the resale value of our automobiles. We escorted our young soldiers onto the battlefield and did our best to teach them the ways of the world on that hallowed ground known simply as The Baseball Diamond.

While neither of us was an official coach of the Red Sox, we both looked forward to our duty as the unpaid helper coaches of this ferocious gaggle of fearless 10-year-old boys. Under the guise of coordinating baseball drills and handing out juice-boxes, my new friend and I secretly etched new chapters into the book of memories with our sons.

On that field, deep in the heart of Battle Ground, Washington, I grew to admire, respect and love this man. He worked hard in his role as a regional manager, treasured his beautiful wife and found time to shower his five children with immeasurable amounts of affection. Baseball Rob made me want to be a better man.

Meanwhile, an equally incredible man—I’ll call him Realtor Rob—came into my life. He too demonstrated all the qualities that should be printed in the textbook on how to be an amazing human being. He sold real estate for a living and had been doing quite well. Rob oozed effervescence and all who encountered him knew that it was genuine and true. Despite an unwavering commitment to his career, he always managed to strike the perfect balance that allowed him to love his wife and be a role model to his three adoring children.

Shortly after we became friends, Realtor Rob randomly asked me one day if I had a favorite song. I answered his question with a raised eyebrow and we moved on. A few weeks later I called his cell phone and was greeted, not with the standard ring of an incoming call, but with the soothing reverie of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. My song. I couldn’t help smiling at the simple thoughtfulness of his gesture. Realtor Rob, like Baseball Rob, made me want to be a better person.

As 2007 unfolded, it looked as though our collective gravy train would be pulling into the station in dire need of a massive overhaul. The real estate market, that once unstoppable juggernaut, came to a grinding halt. Before long, virtually everyone—including those even loosely tied to real estate—was feeling an unaccustomed level of strain.

All around me I watched people fraught with stress and anxiety, unable to shake the palpable reality that the economy was contracting and nothing could be done to prevent it. Our incomes were suffering and those pesky monthly bills kept showing up with remarkable consistency.
Despite their positive outlook, the two Robs were feeling the pressures of the change.

Realtor Rob experienced a painful dip in his real estate business. His listings were not selling and his potential buyers had a difficult time obtaining financing. (Curse those mortgage bankers!) He was working twice as hard for half the income. He would eventually go through the painful experience of a short sale on his own residence and move his family into a rental home. A few weeks later his wife, and partner in business, was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Never had I seen a friend bear such a tidal wave of bad news. Yet through every nightmare transaction and through all the unthinkable battles of his personal life, his bright smile and infectious demeanor never wavered. Not once.

Meanwhile, although not directly connected to real estate or banking, Baseball Rob was also feeling the pain of the souring economy as he struggled to make ends meet. His company was changing directions and he, too, faced financial difficulty. But with bootstrapping endurance, Rob showed me that perseverance is not merely a choice but an obligation. Around that same time Rob wasn’t feeling very well and went to see his doctor. A week later he was diagnosed with cancer.

I watched as my dear friend battled melanoma for three long and painful months. I watched as his frightened wife and terrified children saw the most important man in their lives dwindle to a frail human being incapable of walking and, eventually, unable to wrap his once strong arms around his family. Yet his spirit inexplicably seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

My friend, bedridden and so weak he could barely muster a smile, had become the most monumental hero I had ever met.

The night before Rob died, I went to his bedside. I leaned over and kissed his brow and told him how much I loved him for helping me to realize what it meant to be a hero to so many people.

I feel so blessed that these two Robs came into my life to show me a level of optimism I had never experienced. Here were two guys struggling with all the ills and setbacks that life can throw at you, yet they maintained a positive attitude. The two Robs showed me that for every chunk of bad, there are infinitely more nuggets of good, if you just look for them. And sometimes the things for which we should be most grateful are the things we don’t even notice.

They taught me that there is good to be extracted out of even the simplest of moments; like sitting in a restaurant, eating with your family, your five senses firing on all cylinders; watching your children scan the menu even though they can’t yet read; the sound of the ballgame pouring from the TV mounted above; the smell of dinner wafting from the double doors of the kitchen; the contagious laughter of the toddler two tables over.

I’m not some Pollyanna; we’re surrounded by bad stuff. It’s everywhere. In our relationships, in our careers, in those we love and in those we don’t know. There are jobs being cut, people losing their homes and parents exploiting their children to garner media attention. Make no mistake. Bad stuff abounds.

Maybe our existence isn’t going to be all that we had imagined as kids fearlessly sprinting across playgrounds. The altered dreams and humbling realties of our lives are scattered up and down the I-5 corridor as we bumper-to-bumper our way to jobs that sometimes aren’t very much fun. Sometimes we look around and feel like we’re the only ones living in a constant state of fear, disappointment and regret for a life that is not always unfolding the way we had planned.

But I also believe that we all have glimpses of grandeur and hope for the years that remain, even if only for brief and inspired moments at a time.

I keep a picture of Baseball Rob tucked into the sun visor of my car. He is there as a constant reminder of the kind of man I aspire to be. And from time to time I call Realtor Rob’s cell phone just to listen to the familiar notes of that soothing sonata and to remind myself that we’re all in this together. That gives me hope, and that’s a good thing.

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Matt Elerding grew up in Sitka, Alaska, and attended the University of Portland and Notre Dame. He lives in Battle Ground, Washington, with his wife, Heather and his two children, Gage and Abi. He can be reached at Info@ElerdingTeam.com