Diary of 82-year-old Marjorie Kanter, kicked out of her Madrid home: ‘I didn’t think you could start from scratch at this age’

Those were special days when Dr. Aaron J. Kanter returned home with a few cents in his pocket. Marjorie, Stephen, and Joan, his three children, would run excitedly to the entrance of the family home in Cincinnati to inspect the engravings on the coins their father showed them in the palm of his hand, sometimes showing the silhouette of a buffalo, other times an American soldier, and occasionally with a very clear inscription: In God We Trust.

It was the 1940s, and the game was to save the oldest ones for a coin collection. But none of the movers taking everything apart inside the Madrid apartment of the second of the three siblings, the American writer and poet Marjorie Kanter, is aware of that story. So when the oldest of them all — a man in his late 60s, whom his colleagues call “Grandpa” — drops Marjorie’s handful of coins, including some from the late 19th century, he barely flinches. He just looks at them as they lie scattered across the floor and, with no time to waste, sets them aside to continue compulsively emptying drawers. Marjorie, who “couldn’t find them anywhere,” feels an indescribable joy and asks “Grandpa” to “please” be gentle with them.

Marjorie Kanter, who moved to Spain in 1986, is finally leaving the home she has lived in for the past three decades in the Barrio de las Letras neighborhood of the Spanish capital. This historic quarter was once home to many leading figures of Spain’s Golden Age of literature, including Miguel de Cervantes, and its narrow streets now host a thriving cultural and food scene, making it a magnet for locals and tourists alike.

The building’s developer and owner sent Kanter an official fax on September 26, 2024, announcing that she had to leave the premises before November 1, when her lease was due to be renewed. “I’m being evicted,” she said, complaining that the owner’s intention to sell the property had been concealed from her until the last minute. Since she first told her story in EL PAÍS, she has continued to feed her literary voice with “scattered notes” that explain in first person how Marjorie has ceased to be “profitable for the city’s gentrifying interests”:

I’m now clearer about the impact of getting older — I feel more vulnerable, digging into the questions I already had, perhaps clarifying some — also the decline, the loss of skills, the process of dying. I’m also moving forward. I still have a lot I want to achieve. I started as a writer only 20 years ago. Given my age, that’s not too long. I’m not trained as a writer, but it’s my soul. I feel sad because this neighborhood doesn’t feel like Spain anymore; it’s a theme park. This used to be called the Literary Quarter, and now all the artists and writers have been displaced. My turn has come.

The last thing the workers will clear away in Marjorie’s living room will be her desk. Sitting there, she has worked on almost all of her books. There, she has also pored over the current legislation to understand every last detail of her rights. Both she and her partner, José Luis, say that after the “breakdown,” they have finally reached a point of “liberation.” “It’s as if I had to become independent again at 82, by force. Now that it’s over, I see it as a positive thing because I’ve proven myself to still be independent. Even so, I need more services than ever, more help, because of my old age,” she says. And she writes:

I didn’t think that at this age you could start from scratch, much less abandon the idea of home I had, which was this house. I’m aware that this is part of the creation of “Touristland,” a part of the new world order. I know it’s not just me, nor is it just Madrid residents. It happens everywhere. The rich had left these wonderful neighborhoods and abandoned them. Now they’re stealing them again. This isn’t our place anymore.

The developer never presented a formal written proposal to reach an agreement. After some initial attempts and pulling a few tricks, they realized that Marjorie had no intention of leaving quickly and would not accept blackmail. They ended up adopting a seemingly less aggressive stance. On the one hand, they accepted the monthly payments the woman has continued to make, despite initially warning that it would be illegal without a contract. Marjorie paid her €800 fee until the last day.

Meanwhile, they received threats of legal action through third parties. Marjorie obtained a vulnerability certificate midway through the process, something that her lawyer said would allow her to remain in the property for at least a year. She has refused to pursue this option to avoid litigation. Company representatives have even offered her money in exchange for the woman leaving the property “in a good way.” They also acknowledged that what they are doing to her is “really shitty.”

The apartment will be renovated soon, according to the developer’s statements. Afterward, the plan is to sell it immediately. Marjorie, for her part, immersed herself in a “desperate” house hunt. On several visits, she was rejected due to her age. She ended up accepting that she would have to settle for something smaller and much more expensive. With a certain glimmer of hope, she talks today about a one-bedroom ground floor apartment she found in Arganzuela district, on the other side of the Manzanares river. The place is about 60 square meters (645 square feet), and will cost almost twice as much as what she was paying until now.

At least, however, she won’t have to endure the nighttime street noise outside her old home, plus she will enjoy a beautiful garden in the common areas. She says the new landlord has been especially understanding and the community seems welcoming. She has signed a one-year lease, but doesn’t hide her fear that the story could repeat itself. Among the options she’s considering for the future is the independent living apartments for seniors offered by the city of Madrid. She has already submitted her application.

Both Marjorie and José Luis have faced almost the entire process in poor health. The latest was a broken pinky finger from a bad fall. “Our anxiety hasn’t gone away. I think I was getting worse until this last phase, when I almost forced myself to get excited about the new place,” she admits. Before this happened, she noted:

They started kicking me out of here long before they decided they weren’t going to renew my lease. They start kicking us out of our homes when they change the city below you. It’s a subtle, gradual invitation for you to leave. The city center has become an unbearable place: more hostile and less livable. It all begins with those changes around you. I don’t think there’s any turning back.

While José Luis helps unscrew and disassemble some furniture, Marjorie runs around the house with a brush and a dustpan. She also absentmindedly mulls over the books she’ll keep. As if she were editing one of her own texts, Marjorie has had to reduce all her belongings to a minimum over the past few months due to the future lack of space. She has given away tables, mirrors, and furniture, and donated more than 100 volumes to The Secret Kingdom bookstore on Moratines Street.

“It’s quite painful to decide what’s important and what isn’t after so many years,” she remarks. In this process, what Marjorie Kanter has done is flee within herself. Once she gave in to what was happening, once she accepted that her destiny was to leave to make way for tourists with suitcases, the only foothold she found was in her writing. With that leverage, she has gotten back on her feet.

In reality, it’s not the new place that truly excites her, but rather having recovered a certain voice as an author after all. She says that the hardships fuel her desire to write, to “be up-to-date.” She also asserts that she never thought she’d write about gentrification, just as she never imagined that when she randomly began to unpack, in the first box she’d find that handful of coins that the Kanters consider their treasure. After the discovery, she sent this message:

Right now I could get rid of a million things if I weren’t so tired. We’ve opened a ton of boxes, and I’m starting to feel like there will be a resolution now. I think once you move, you’re ready to let go of things you didn’t think you could before. And I’m really ready.

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