I had just turned thirteen when my family immigrated to the United States.  My father, an engineer, started by loading bottles in a Coca Cola truck.  My mother, an attorney, cleaned houses. 

My folks had set many goals when they came to the US, and one them was to own a home, something which was completely out of their reach in South America.  It’s also something which is completely out of the reach of most people in most parts of the world.  Ask any immigrant.

Perhaps it was all those interminable weeks and months going around with my parents, translating for them, looking for just the right place, being disappointed time and again.  Perhaps it was the immediate gut feeling the entire family had when we walked into what was to become our new home.  Our very own home.  Hard to say when my fascination with, and respect for, real estate began.

But there is absolutely no question in my mind that owning the place each of us  lives in is of outmost importance.  It provides peace of mind, long term appreciation, and a nest egg to rely on once retirement age comes.  Those who choose to continue as renters have only one thing at the end - a big pile of cancelled checks. True, whenever a faucet leaks tenants just pick up the phone and call the landlord.  But they are subject to rent increases, owner move in evictions, need permission for even the simplest of modifications, and above all, when retirement years hit and income traditionally goes down, they do not have the security of either owning their own place outright or having equity in it which can be tapped if need be.

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