Summary

From my perspective, the article highlights how foreclosure rates across the DC metro area reveal stark differences between neighborhoods, with places like Woodbridge being hit especially hard compared to more insulated areas like Arlington or Bethesda. It frames foreclosures as both a symptom and a driver of the economic downturn, creating a cycle that affects entire communities. At the same time, it presents a split outlook—either a troubling sign of decline or a potential opportunity for buyers looking to invest in discounted homes.

My Response

July 21, 2009 4:58 pm

I’ve seen most of the houses on my street in Woodbridge sold and resold. Odd things happen when the majority of houses on a street are not occupied. I’ve had burglaries in my home increase, damage to property, as well as vehicles at unoccupied houses mysteriously appearing and catching on fire in the wee hours of the morning. The quality of the neighborhood has greatly decreased. Wild house parties at all hours of the night, trash discarded everywhere, noticable police visits, loud music, unattended sheep, idleing cars, off-road driving, air horns, squeeling tires, high-speed runs, loud motors reving, and littering the woods all around. It wasn’t like this when I moved into my home in 2001. It’s not depressing, just annoying.

Reflections

April 2, 2026

Eventually, I sold my home in a short sale during my divorce. Looking back, some of the details sound strange—even to me—but I remember them as they were. There really was a sheep at one point, and that alone says a lot about how unpredictable things had become.

There were always odd things happening. At the time, there were rumors about a neighbor up the street—the one with the air horn—but I never looked into them further, and I’m not inclined to repeat secondhand claims without anything to back them up.

I stayed in touch with my next-door neighbor and even toured my old house after it was remodeled. The kitchen had been opened up, with the short walls removed. They told me the next occupants became ill and eventually discovered black mold in the basement before moving out. In hindsight, that explained a lot about how I felt while living there.

The woods behind my home were eventually cleared, replaced with rows of cookie-cutter houses. The neighborhood became almost unrecognizable. Over time, my old neighbors moved away, and I stopped visiting the place I once called home.

It’s strange what only starts to make sense years later.