For the better part of his life, Dana Colburn has cared for the houseplants given to him by his grandmother, who raised him.
The large aloe plant, the umbrella plant and the cactus make him feel close to his “mom,” as he called her. He’s nurtured the pothos for so long that its tendrils could stretch across entire walls of his apartment in Antrim. The plants were something to take care of, something that required his attention.
“They were, you know, little pieces of hers,” Colburn said. “And it’s kind of been my connection, like, ‘How am I doing, Gram?’ … They just give me something to think about, other than all the pain and suffering.”
He may never see those plants again.
Colburn was evicted last month from his apartment at Antrim Village, an affordable housing complex designed for seniors and people with disabilities. Due to financial and time constraints, he was unable to retrieve most of his belongings.
Colburn said he can still see the plants in the window and isn’t being allowed to retrieve them. Property management says that’s because he filed an extension request with the court, and their attorneys have advised them to keep everything in the unit, for now.
The weeks that followed his eviction have taken a toll. He managed to grab whatever he could stuff in his truck, and he’s staying with a family friend in Deering, about 30 minutes from Concord. This is the third time in Colburn’s life that he’s lost housing. In 2017, he had to move from the Henniker campground he called home when the town partially shut it down.
Colburn tried everything he could think of to retrieve his belongings, to no avail. He said the emotional stress of losing it all has become nearly unmanageable. Before the eviction, he’d gotten down to four cigarettes a day and was close to quitting. Now, he’s back up to two packs a day.
Wisps of smoke wafted up from the cigarette stubs that filled an ashtray on the kitchen table. One morning this week, Colburn called around seeking help for his mental health.
“I feel like crying all the time now,” he said.
A case of poor timing
Colburn, 59, moved into Antrim Village in the spring of 2024. He’s a former firefighter and mechanic, but now lives on a monthly payment of $1,616 from social security disability insurance.
He qualified for a low-income housing voucher under Section 8, but he had a dispute with property management over his rent. He continued to make payments each month, which he said was his Section 8 rate.
In May, more than $5,200 in unpaid rent led the New England-based Caleb Group, an affordable housing nonprofit that manages the property, to begin eviction proceedings.
According to property management, Colburn didn’t recertify for his discounted housing rate through Section 8, so his rent rose threefold: from his reduced $437 monthly to the federally set market rate of $1,300. He continued to pay the $437, but the difference racked up.
Colburn said he missed the notification and didn’t attend his court hearing, so the court issued a default judgment to evict him. His last day there was Sept. 18, according to the Caleb Group.
New Hampshire recently enacted a new law that makes it easier for landlords to evict tenants, saying the end of a lease is reason enough to vacate the tenant — no questions asked and no other grounds necessary. Lawmakers who championed the new policy said it makes it easier for landlords to get out of contracts with and, in turn, take a chance on less-than-ideal candidates.
Marianne McDermott, the company’s director of external affairs, said the Galeb Group hesitates to evict residents. Not only is it an expensive process, she said, but the Caleb Group specializes in affordable housing and tries to connect residents with resources to avoid that outcome.
“We are really committed to helping residents stay in their housing. It’s good for everybody,” McDermott said. “Generally, people are in their housing for years, but every once in a while somebody has trouble staying in their housing.”
After a tenant’s last day in the apartment, New Hampshire law requires landlords to store their personal property for seven days so they can retrieve it.
In Colburn’s case, he said his eviction date fell six days before his next Social Security check. With only enough gas in his car to get to the house in Deering, Colburn said he had no money to buy boxes, rent a moving truck or even drive to the apartment until the window was almost closed.
He requested and received a one-day extension, and he eventually got a U-Haul, but the friends he’d called on to help him bailed. With a bad back and neuropathy, trying to pack everything up, get it down a flight of stairs and into the U-Haul by himself proved too big a challenge.
“I don’t think that I can just walk in and wave my wand and get everything off the walls and pack my houseplants and take care of everything,” Colburn said.
‘I don’t give up’
Colburn did manage to grab a few things, including his “spirit box,” which he painted with nail polish with his granddaughter. It’s full of trinkets like stones, an old coin and a piece of sea glass.
He also retrieved a 1987 Harley-Davidson Sportster that he got in a trade with a friend. Though most of his tools were left in his apartment, he plans to fix it up and drive the Kancamagus Highway at least one more time.
“I know I can fix it. It’s just going to take me time and money, but it’ll give me something to do,” Colburn said. “If I lose my feet to diabetes, I’ll never be able to ride again. So that’s my last-ditch effort to ride one more time, before I can’t.”
Along with the houseplants, his belongings include a commemorative World War II bomber jacket given to him by a relative, his cast-iron skillet — he loves to cook — and an old stereo that he “resurrected from the dead.” As a former mechanic, projects like that give him something to keep his mind busy.
He sought out help in his effort to get his stuff back but said most of the resources he’s contacted — nonprofits, community centers, legal aid — haven’t been able to help. For weeks, he tried to keep the lights and heat on in the apartment in hopes his plants might survive, but every avenue for assistance thus far has met a dead end.
“I’ve gotten to the point where I just want to go to sleep and not wake up … I just don’t want to continue anymore, and I just feel like giving up, and I’m not — I don’t give up,” Colburn said. “I’m a fighter. I’ve fought for everything I’ve ever had in my life. Everything I have in that apartment, I paid for and I worked or I built myself. And it’s just hard that they’re doing this.”
Nowadays, living in a small and crowded house in Deering with a friend of his aunt’s, each item — the dishes, the plants, a vacuum cleaner — serves as a painful reminder of everything left behind.
He’s never lived away from New England, and the farthest he’s lived from his childhood home in Weare is Cape Cod, but without his things, he’s thinking of heading south to Florida to move in with his best friend.
“He’s wanted me to come down for years, and I didn’t want to go because of family,” Colburn said. “I’m done with this state. There’s nothing left here for me. If they take all that, what do I got left? An old, beat-up truck and a broken-down motorcycle and a guitar that’s missing a string.”