Hi, I'm Guy Etienne. Born in Haiti, I emigrated to the USA with my siblings, where my parents have lived for four years. I will never forget that famous Saturday afternoon, returning from the city with my mother, we encountered a parade of individuals from EMS, Fire department personnel, and fire engine all in front of our house on Eastern Parkway. Luckily, there was no loss of life as this fire raged in the basement by the gutted oil tank right underneath our apartment. We had lost everything. The Red Cross took all of us to the city, and we were placed in this hotel where we had to commute to Brooklyn to attend school. Trying to find an apartment in Brooklyn in those days was a chore. There were 8 of us, and when we finally found one, it was on Albany Avenue, on the second floor, an apartment that belonged to the owner and was not under rent control, paying top dollar. We had a two-year lease and I remember that I had to move twice while in college. When I came back from Medical School, my family had moved twice again. I had gotten married in my third year of med school and lived with my in-laws in Laurelton, Queens. I made this commitment never to rent and own my house, even while making peanut as a resident. Luck struck in the name of a neighbor from India and an attache at the Indian consulate. He was being relocated and vacating the house across the street from me, and that Saturday, while enjoying the sun outside my house, he came running from across the street asking for help and I thought someone had a heart attack at this house. I summoned my father-in-law and we both followed him, only to find out that some vandals must have gotten into his basement, stole the copper pipes and left the water running. We helped him to the best of our ability and could find the main and shut off the water. Jokingly, after he said thank you, I told him that since he was moving out of town, he should just give me this house. He looked at me as though I was nuts, but over the next few days, he came back twice looking for me; the rest is history. I purchased the house from him and lived there for 11 years. I had made a commitment to my parents that one day they would have their own house and would not have to rent and move every two years. My father never liked the idea; he was getting older and told me he would not do so. That decision subsequently cost him his life. After losing his last lease and while I was looking for a house for my sisters, he was staying by a friend’s house on Ocean Avenue, one early evening, a burglar, thinking there was no one home, busted in there and he was killed. Though the rest of the family did not approve, I persisted and made my second real estate investment. I got a house for my mom and my sisters, continued to invest in real estate, and got my license with the help of my buddy from Fillmore real estate and have been wearing my two hats ever since, juggling my medical and real estate careers. I subsequently bought my dream home in Dix Hills and have helped countless friends, family members, and clients get closer and closer to their American Dream.