Letter to the Editor: Hooked on AirBnB
When my father suffered a debilitating stroke, I used Airbnb to rent extra space in my home in Flatbush. The supplemental income helped me to take time off of work to care for him and to spend time with him in the house we dreamed of owning together, in the neighborhood where I was born, bred and plan to live for a long time to come.
My father, an immigrant from Trinidad, always said he wanted me to buy a house and ‘fix up’ the basement so we could live in it together–I upstairs, and he in the garden apartment downstairs.
In 2009 our wish came true: I purchased a 1901 Italianate brownstone with four bedrooms and original details including pocket doors, stained glass, coffered ceilings, moldings. Although it was a real fixer-upper, my mother called it my dream home and I wholeheartedly agree.
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