Lines of Despair - A week long segment published
by The Columbus Dispatch, June 2004
The Ohio Association of Second Harvest Foodbanks
would like to thank The Columbus Dispatch for allowing OASHF to publish these
stories. All stories, photographs, and charts are copywritten by The Columbus
Sunday, June 6, 2004
Over the brink and into poverty
THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH, Sunday, June 6, 2004, Alan
Johnson, Cahterine Candisky and Jonathan Rickind
It hides in plain sight in the hills of
Appalachia, the cozy suburbs of central Ohio and the urban streets of
Forty years after President Johnson came to
southern Ohio to declare War on Poverty, the old enemy is making a comeback.
But this is the new poverty.
It’s not about those living in shacks or
begging on the street, but about people from many walks of life who find
themselves, often unexpectedly, struggling to meet their most basic needs.
This new poverty shows its face in
Springfield, where a family of four eats popcorn and water for dinner — with
peanut butter if they’re lucky; in Athens County, where a husband and wife
work six jobs between them trying to make ends meet; and in Westerville, where
a young mother repeatedly glues her own shoes together so she has enough money
to buy new shoes for her two children.
But the most glaring evidence of Ohioans’
newfound struggles is the lengthening food lines across the state.
Dispatch reporters and photographers traveled
to food lines during one week to learn why this supposed relic of the Great
Depression has returned.
In that one week, from April 26 to May 1, the
number of Ohioans served by food pantries statewide — more than 150,000 —
would have filled Ohio Stadium one and a half times. Nearly 2 million pounds
of food were distributed — enough to fill 70 tractor-trailers.
The number of people seeking help at food
pantries statewide has risen three straight years.
The Ohio Association of Second Harvest
Foodbanks, which serves much of Ohio through 3,000 agencies, reported a 44
percent increase in people seeking assistance during the first three months of
this year compared with the last three months of 2003. At the same time, the
food available at pantries rose just 4 percent.
And now beleaguered families of reserve and
National Guard troops who have been stationed for months in Iraq or
Afghanistan are showing up in food lines.
Vince Chase of Catholic Social Services of
Clark, Champaign and Logan Counties, calls Ohio’s economic climate ‘‘Depressionlike,"
the worst he’s experienced in 30 years of helping people in need.
‘‘We’re seeing people who never thought they
would be in this situation. Half of them are working people who have 10 to 15
to 20 years of work experience but don’t have jobs. There are no jobs.
‘‘It shows how fragile things can be for
folks. You’re cruising along, and an illness, an accident, the loss of a job
can throw you into poverty. It doesn’t take much for even middle-class people.
Before you know it, you don’t have anything left."
In relatively affluent Butler County, where
unemployment was 4.2 percent in April, President Bush said during a May 4
campaign stop that ‘‘the life of the average Ohio citizen is improving." Yet
business is booming at The Lord’s Cupboard pantry in the county seat of
Hamilton, where the number seeking help nearly quadrupled from 2000 to 2004.
It’s difficult to quantify those who have fallen into economic despair. Once
workers lose their jobs and exhaust unemployment benefits, no agency counts
them. When people go off welfare, the government doesn’t track whether they
have become self-sufficient — the mantra of welfare reform.
And nobody knows for certain how many people
line up for free food across the United States. The number seeking emergency
food nationwide from Catholic Charities USA and its partners has jumped about
20 percent annually in recent years, said Sharon Daly, the charity’s vice
president of social policy.
A U.S. Conference of Mayors survey of 25
cities in December 2003 found the demand at food pantries rose 17 percent over
2002. And the 2002 figure was 19 percent higher than the year before.
‘‘These folks have become invisible," said
Jack Frech, director of the Athens County Department of Job and Family
Services. ‘‘Yet we all see them, no matter what you do. If you go to a retail
store, a nursing home, if you have a child in day care, you’re dealing with
someone who has trouble feeding themselves.
‘‘These people have done everything society
has asked them to do, and they are not seeing the rewards that society
Ohio’s new poor are not easily categorized.
They are young and out of work, old and
struggling with high medical bills, downsized or laid off from manufacturing
jobs, grandmothers raising grandchildren, couples working two or more low-wage
Most never thought they would be poor. Some
don’t consider themselves poor now, and they aren’t compared to many who
struggled through the Depression or reside in Third World countries.
Although pantries check income, advocates
acknowledge that a few less-deserving people sometimes slip through the food
lines. But for the vast majority, setting foot in a food line means overcoming
a stigma. They come because they are desperate.
Sheila Miller, who was laid off as a
$36,000-a-year supervisor of an assisted-living company, came to a Logan
pantry for the first time recently. Her husband works at a Haydenville
sawmill, but the couple with two young children is having a hard time.
‘’It’s embarrassing to come here," said
Miller, 30. ‘‘It makes me feel ignorant — like I’m trash, and I’m not.
‘‘Hopefully, there’ll be some things in here
my kids will eat," she said after her car was loaded with food.
Ginger Walls’ unemployment ran out in
February, leaving the single mother of two from Carbon Hill in Hocking County
with $500 a month in child support and $359 in food stamps.
‘‘I’ve got a lot of stuff at the pawn shop,
and I borrow from my dad to pay the bills until the child support comes," she
Since being laid off from her $10-an-hour job
at Anchor Hocking in Lancaster nearly a year ago, Walls, 32, has been listed
with three different temporary services; no one is hiring.
Mark Craig, 38, retired with a disability
because of a back injury, relies on a food pantry to feed his wife and three
They have a monthly income of $1,993 from
Social Security disability and family benefits. That’s about $24,000 a year —
slightly above the federal poverty level for a family of five.
But after paying bills, the family has little
left for food.
‘‘There’s been many times we’ve had popcorn
and water for dinner, or popcorn and peanut butter. That’s no joke," said
Craig, who gets food from a Springfield pantry.
‘‘Honest to God, I don’t know what we’d do
without this place."
Pointing to statistics showing 30,000 new jobs have been created since Jan. 1,
Gov. Bob Taft says Ohio’s economy is beginning to rebound. But he acknowledges
hardship and suffering.
‘‘We know what the economic recession and
downturn did. There are a lot of people out of work . . . You have increases
in the number of working poor, struggling to make ends meet."
State government has tried to help, Taft said,
increasing aid to food banks to $4.5 million a year from $2.5 million;
donating 450,000 meals through the state employee Operation Feed program;
administering $1.3 billion in federal money for food stamps, school lunches
and other programs; and increasing the number of children covered under the
Children’s Health Insurance Program.
‘‘The answer to this is education . . .
Upgrading the skills lev- els has got to be the central part of the strategy
to help people, so this hardship is more of a transitional rather than a
permanent hardship," Taft said.
As fever is a symptom of disease, hunger is a
symptom of poverty.
U.S. Department of Agriculture statistics show
‘‘food insecurity" — defined as being uncertain of having enough food for the
household — is on the rise.
In 2002, the most recent year for which
figures are available, 34.9 million Americans experienced ‘‘food insecurity"
some time during the year. That’s up from 31 million in 1999.
‘‘This is not the recession of the ’70s, ’80s
or ’90s," said Lisa Hamler-Podolski of the Ohio Association of Second Harvest
Foodbanks. ‘‘They pale in comparison . . . It’s the worst I’ve ever seen.
‘‘Our food pantries and soup kitchens are
merely a barometer of where we are in this state. I fear the worst is yet to
Hunger is more than an aching belly.
David H. Holben, an associate professor of
human and consumer sciences at Ohio University, found that families facing
regular food insecurity had more illnesses, fatigue and depression. Children’s
cognitive and academic abilities were impaired, too.
‘‘In southeastern Ohio," Holben said, ‘‘there
are kids who leave school on Friday afternoon and don’t have a good meal until
they come back to school on Monday morning."
Meanwhile, some charities are stretched to the
At the Friends and Neighbors Community Choice
Food Center in southern Athens County, near the Ohio River, free hot lunches
are served to about 200 people and groceries go to 500 people each month — all
on a $200 monthly budget.
When food ran out last summer, the center was
forced to close for two weeks. More recently, those seeking help received only
apples, potatoes and eggs made available through the state’s agriculture
In Franklin County, the Salvation Army’s
fastest growing chapel is in Worthington Woods on the Far North Side, where
the demand for food and clothing assistance tripled since last year.
‘‘Many families who live in the area have
experienced increases in the cost of rent and food, while their wages have
stayed static or declined," said Michelle Hannan, social services coordinator
for the Salvation Army.
The chapel is now open 20 hours a week and
helps about 65 families a month.
Return of old enemy
In 1964, President Johnson launched his War on Poverty during a series of
speeches, including one at Ohio University in Athens. He called for solutions
‘‘which have eluded mankind since the beginning of time."
Four decades later, the answers remain
‘‘America has never been wealthier as a
nation, as real per capita income today is about twice that of the early
1970s, but millions of workers still have difficulty earning enough to support
their families," said Sheldon Danziger, a professor at the University of
Michigan’s Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy.
George Zeller, senior researcher at the
nonprofit, nonpartisan Council for Economic Opportunities in Greater
Cleveland, said as Ohio’s large manufacturing base has shrunk, it has become
more difficult for people to work their way out of poverty. That’s because
traditional blue-collar jobs paying much above minimum wage are disappearing.
At the same time, Ohio’s personal-income
growth ranked last among the 50 states from April 2002 to April 2003,
according to Washington-based State Policy Reports.
The economy and jobs will be the domestic
flashpoint of the 2004 presidential election.
President Bush maintains that the economy
remains capable of generating plenty of goodpaying jobs and is leaping out of
recession and back into boom times, thanks in large part to his 2001 and 2003
During a speech in Dayton last month, Bush
said ‘‘there are still people who hurt, and I understand that. There are
people in parts of Ohio who haven’t felt the recovery yet. But we’re getting
Presumptive Democratic nominee John Kerry says
much more can be done to help lowand middle-income Americans get ahead. He
backs the middleclass tax cuts but wants to repeal tax cuts for those making
$200,000 and up.
During an April campaign stop in Cincinnati,
Kerry announced an economic plan he says would create 10 million new jobs in
the next four years, including more than 400,000 in Ohio.
‘‘In America, a rising tide is supposed to
lift all boats — but in the Bush tide, the middleclass boat is taking on
water," Kerry said.
As for John Life, 68, a volunteer at the
Coolville pantry, he fears hard times from the past are knocking at the door.
‘‘Things were rough in my day. I once
supported three families driving a cab," Life said. ‘‘It’s getting that way
Monday, June 7, 2004
Hunger gets a toehold in the burbs
Monday, June 07, 2004,
Catherine Candisky and Alan Johnson, THE
Lines of Despair
Thousands of Ohioans are showing up more frequently in
food lines. They are the new poor. The Dispatch spent a week with them
to learn their stories
MIKE MUNDEN | DISPATCH
Angel Buckley supports her children, Briana, 9, and Cody, 7, by earning
$10.65 an hour as an assistant director of a day-care center.
FRED SQUILLANTE | DISPATCH
Lisa Shilling, a Westerville single mother who relies on cheap entertainment
out of necessity, often takes her children to area parks. During a recent
visit, Joey, 7, gets a hug after making it across the monkey bars for the
MIKE MUNDEN | DISPATCH
struggling single mom, Angel Buckley sells raffle tickets and does other
work for a Westerville baseball league to cover league fees so her son,
Cody, can play ball.
Sweaty and red-faced after scrambling across the monkey bars and chasing his
sister on a Westerville playground, 7-year-old Joey Shilling froze when he
heard the music of an approaching ice cream truck. ‘‘Mom!" he yelled. ‘‘Can I
get ice cream?" From nowhere, his sister Rachel, 5½, raced to his side. ‘‘I
don’t have any money until I get paid Friday. You can have a Popsicle when we
get home," said their mother.
Without complaint, the children ran off to play.
days until payday, and Lisa Shilling, 37, was broke. Her last $20 went into
the family’s Ford Escort station wagon.
used to cost me $12 to fill the tank; now it costs me $20."
Getting by as a single parent earning $7.68 an hour as an assistant Head Start
teacher is a challenge.
her plight shows that hunger and poverty exist even in the tidy suburbs
ringing Columbus. You just have to look harder.
didn’t expect what I saw when I started here," said Lori Humphrey, director of
Wester- ville Area Resources Ministry, a charitable effort of 20 churches that
serves about 24 families a week in the city school district. ‘‘I’ve lived here
18 years; it’s not very obvious.
was really shocked at the need and hit hard by the numbers."
Humphrey came to realize that many people, even affluent suburbanites, are
just an illness, an accident, a fire or a divorce away from poverty.
‘‘Those are the ones that hit you the hardest. You realize you’re not that far
hit Angel Buckley hard.
was clear as she stood nervously in front of an audience of 250 community and
business leaders and clergy during the ministry’s prayer breakfast last month
at the Westerville Community Center.
Buckley described her struggle raising two children after her divorce in 2000,
and how she finally turned to the organization of churches for food about 18
was ashamed to be there," she said in shakey voice. ‘‘I sat in my chair, and I
Buckley, 31, rents a half-double in Strawberry Farms with her children, Briana,
9, and Cody, 7. She earns $10.65 an hour as assistant director of a day-care
center. But because her bills exceed her income, she starts each month $200 in
is supposed to receive court-ordered child support but said her ex-husband
Unable to afford rent, Buckley moved her kids to a succession of smaller homes
three times over an 18-month period.
‘‘It’s not that I don’t want to pay my bills. It’s not that I’m ignoring those
phone calls. I just can’t pay them," she said.
‘‘I’ll go months and months without a haircut . . . I’ll wait until the kids
get enough haircuts to get a free haircut."
save money, she glued her shoes together repeatedly until they fell apart.
Through the church outreach program, Buckley has received food and money to
help pay legal bills in the ongoing child-support battle. Her church sponsored
Briana and Cody at Christmas.
tough times are not over. But Buckley said through tears at the prayer
breakfast that her faith, although shaken at times, has been restored.
‘‘God has faith in me even when I don’t have faith in myself."
Single-parent families like the Buckleys and Shillings face increasingly hard
Census Bureau figures show that single parents of both genders are more likely
to be poverty stricken than families headed by a married couple, but that
single women tend to be far worse off economically.
Nearly half of families headed by one parent as a result of divorce drop into
the poverty ranks, according to a report by the Heritage Foundation, a think
tank in Washington, D.C.
About 4 percent of women who worked for hourly wages report earning at or
below the federal minimum wage, compared to 2 percent of men, according to
U.S. Department of Labor 2002 statistics.
advocates point to gender-wage inequality as a culprit.
‘‘While education reduces the likelihood of being poor for both men and women,
women are much more likely to be poor than men with the same level of
education," said a 2002 report by the National Organization for Women Legal
Defense and Education Fund.
bottom line is that ‘‘there are a lot more single women raising kids than 30
or 40 years ago," said Rebecca M. Blank, dean of the Gerald R. Ford School of
Public Policy at the University of Michigan. ‘‘And women’s wages remain below
pay plagues Schilling, who skips church some Sundays so she has enough gas to
get back and forth to work.
‘‘Most of the people have nice houses and don’t realize that there are people
here trying to rub two pennies together."
Shilling knows. She used to be one of them.
1985 graduate of Westerville South High School, Shilling grew up in a
middle-class family and was working at CompuServe when she got married in
1992. When Joey was born, she quit. Five months before Rachel was born, her
Shilling was homeless and received welfare until her exhusband started paying
$394 a month in child support. She and her children lived in an unheated
apartment and with her parents before finding subsidized housing.
teacher’s aide, she earns about $15,000 a year, just under the federal poverty
rate for a family of three. She relies on Westerville Area Resources Ministry
and her church for help.
was rough last fall when she was laid off after the state cut Head Start
funding and her center closed. She found a $10-anhour temporary job at
Riverside Methodist Hospital.
under government rules, the $2.32 hourly raise meant she no longer qualified
for subsidized child care. Instead of paying $171 a month, she paid $170 a
‘‘The welfare office told me to find a lower paying job or put in for part
time," Shilling said.
when a Head Start job at another center became open, she took it. Although she
doesn’t make quite as much, Shilling qualifies for subsidized child care and
her employer pays her tuition for online classes at Columbus State Community
Someday she hopes to be an elementary school teacher — and to have enough
money for ice cream.
Dispatch reporter Jonathan Riskind contributed to this story.
Tuesday, June 8, 2004
life of scraping by _ the plight of the working poor
Tuesday, June 08, 2004, Catherine Candisky and Alan Johnson, THE COLUMBUS
MIKE MUNDEN | DISPATCH PHOTOS
Zachary Barringer, 9, plays on a trampoline outside his family’s trailer in
rural Athens County near the Ohio River.
avoid confusion, Melissa Barringer must carefully keep track of her three
jobs and schedule of college classes.
MIKE MUNDEN | DISPATCH
Kyle, left, and Zachary Barringer help their dad, Brian, unload cans, wood
and scrap metal, which they recycle to supplement the family’s income.
COOLVILLE, Ohio — Between them, Brian and Melissa Barringer have six jobs, yet
they’re still struggling in this corner of Appalachian Ohio.
Brian, 41, is a jack-of-all-trades, earning $8.55 an hour working at gas
wells, a car wash and a flea market. To make a few extra bucks, he gathers
scrap metal. He knows from experience that 13 bags of flattened aluminum beer
and soda cans will fill the back of his 1996 Chevy pickup truck and put $60 in
his pocket from the recycling center.
Melissa, 37, works as an aide in a nursing home, a public school and a school
for the mentally retarded. She makes $8.29 an hour as a nurse’s aide and $5 to
$6 an hour at the other jobs.
Despite back-breaking work and hours that are often dawn to dusk, the Bar-
ringers barely have enough money to clothe and feed their three boys: Eric,
18, Kyle, 12, and Zachary, 9.
Often, Melissa ends up at the Friends and Neighbors Community Choice Food
Center in this southeastern Athens County town, where on a recent visit she
received potatoes, apples, eggs and canned goods.
‘‘There’s weeks we basically live on what we get from here," she said.
first, I was really embarrassed, especially when I’d see someone I knew that I
hadn’t seen for a while. But then I got to thinking, ‘They’re here for the
same reason I am.’ "
Barringers’ earnings totaled $26,000 last year, about $4,000 above the federal
poverty level for a family of five.
with most working poor, they make too much for government assistance, but with
utility, gas and food costs rising, it’s not enough to pay their bills.
seems like his check is gone as soon as he gets it," Melissa said.
Folks who run food pantries across Ohio say more and more of their clientele
is like the Barringers: They have jobs but still can’t make ends meet.
Nationally, about 4.9 percent of the labor force — 6.8 million people — met
the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics definition of working poor in 2001: those
at or below the official poverty level while holding jobs for 27 weeks or more
over a year.
federally mandated minimum hourly wage hasn’t come close to keeping up with
inflation, say many advocates.
‘‘During most years of the 1960s, a full-time, all-year, minimum-wage job
generated a paycheck that lifted a typical Ohio family out of poverty," said
the Ohio Association of Community Action Agencies in a ‘‘State of Poverty in
Ohio" report earlier this year.
a job paying the $5.15 minimum wage leaves the typical Ohio family at only 70
percent of the poverty level, the association said.
reason the federal poverty rate has been relatively static in recent years is
a growing phenomenon of ‘‘income inequality," say many liberal economists and
other words, the rich got richer and the poor stayed poor.
real average, after-tax income of the wealthiest 1 percent of Americans
increased by $576,000, or 201 percent, during the 1980s and 1990s, according
to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, a liberal Washington think-tank
that analyzed Congressional Budget Office figures. However, the average
earnings of middle-income Americans increased just $5,500 during that period,
or 15.1 percent.
That’s not news for thousands of residents of Athens County, about 65 miles
southeast of Columbus.
Despite the loss of hundreds of higher-paying manufacturing jobs, the county
unemployment rate is 4.9 percent, among the lowest in Ohio and below the state
average of 5.8 percent.
the county has one of the highest poverty rates in the state — 27.4 percent,
compared to a state average of 10.6 percent.
Frech, director of the Athens County Department of Job and Family Services,
said jobs that paid $30,000 or more have been lost, replaced primarily by
service-industry jobs paying minimum wage or a bit more.
have a Staples down here and a Lowes," he added. ‘‘And we have a couple
thousand people a day driving over here from Meigs County for minimumwage
report last fall by the U.S. Conference of Mayors said the nationwide trend is
for the economy to recoup job losses, but most will be in the service
industry, where the average pay is $14,700, often with no benefits.
Southeast of Coolville in Hockingport, the Barringers’ back yard might appear
to an outsider as a sea of junk — beer and soda cars, pieces of jagged metal,
seats from a school bus, motor parts.
Brian sees dollar signs.
knows the going price for a pound of scrap metal ($1 for copper, 45 cents for
aluminum, and 35 cents for brass). He knows that if he fills a junk car with
scrap metal, he can get $60 a ton for it at the metal crusher.
‘‘Sixty dollars is a lot of groceries," he said with a shrug.
to 20 percent of the family’s income comes from recycling scrap metal.
Despite steady employment, the Barringers say they aren’t any better off than
they were 12 years ago when they moved into their three-bedroom trailer
perched on a hill overlooking a pond in Hockingport. Melissa fondly calls the
land in the backwaters of the Ohio River ‘‘the home place" because it has been
in her family for generations.
her husband, Melissa tries hard to stretch their dollars. She’s learned to
fill the milk jug with powdered milk and water when it’s half empty to make it
last longer, and often takes from her own plate when one of the boys asks for
seconds. She also keeps hens for fresh eggs.
just make it with what we have," she said. ‘‘We’ll pay one bill and let
another one go."
Barringers love the home place — a common feeling in Appalachia — and have no
plans to move the city. The money might be better, but the people, traffic and
noise crowd out the comforting sounds of the country.
‘‘Sometimes, you can hear the train rumbling on the West Virginia side," Brian
said wistfully, ‘‘and you can hear the tow boats on the river just as plain as
Dispatch reporter Jonathan Riskind contributed to this story.
Wednesday, June 9, 2004
Extended family strains budget
Wednesday, June 09, 2004, Catherine Candisky and Alan Johnson, THE COLUMBUS
MIKE MUNDEN | THE DISPATCH
ALAN JOHNSON | THE DISPATCH
Anderson unloads canned goods, powdered milk, apples, cereal and other
groceries she received from a Logan food pantry which served more than
1,100 people that day. ABOVE: From left, Justin and Amber Hopkins and
Nicole Thompson moved in with their grandmother, Nancy Anderson, shortly
after their parents were killed.
FRED SQUILLANTE | THE DISPATCH
To feed herself and two grandchildren, Nancy Anderson relies on a food
pantry and stretches her dollars by shopping at a discount grocery.
LANCASTER, Ohio — Nancy Anderson paced in front of the meat cases a dozen
times, mentally counting her limited food-stamp rations and desperately
seeking a bargain.
‘‘Ninety-eight cents a pound?" she moaned, studying a package of chicken
legs and thighs. ‘‘Last month, I got it on sale for half that!"
Anderson put aside the chicken, picked up three family-size packs of ground
beef and placed them in her shopping cart at Festival Foods. She punched the
price into her calculator, carefully tracking each penny.
‘‘Twelve bucks right there," she said, shaking her head. ‘‘That’s why I
don’t buy a lot of meat."
There is no room for error when your food budget is $246.48 a month — no
comfort zone for luxuries or emergencies for a 60- year-old, unemployed,
divorced woman raising two teen-age grandchildren.
Anderson, who lives a county south in Logan, didn’t plan to support her
grandchildren. Few grandparents do.
But in Ohio and across the nation, some family members are being forced to
move in together to survive.
For example, children living in grandparent-headed households increased 29.7
percent nationally — 13.8 percent in Ohio — between 1990 and 2000, according
to the U.S. Census Bureau.
The late-in-life responsibility often comes unexpectedly, such as when a
parent dies, becomes chronically ill or goes to prison, or in the aftermath
of a divorce when neither parent is willing or able to care for the
While grandparents are usually glad to help support their grandchildren,
it’s often more of a burden than they expect, said Joan W. Lawrence,
director of the Ohio Department of Aging. ‘‘It’s a lot more stressful," she
Nearly one in five grandparent-headed households lived below the federal
poverty line in 1999, while about one in seven families overall was in
poverty, census figures show.
‘‘Most of the grandparents retired based on taking care of themselves and
not thinking they were going to have to raise children again," said Dionne
Henderson, program director for the Grandparent/Grandchildren Initiative of
the Center for Healthy Communities at Wright State University.
Anderson’s grandchildren moved in shortly after her son and daughter-in-law
died 7½ years ago. She never needed help with food until recently.
So she found herself on a chilly April morning waiting in her red 1991 Chevy
Tahoe in a line of vehicles that began forming before 7:30 a.m. outside
Logan in Hocking County.
crew of 35 volunteers at the Smith Chapel United Methodist Church food
pantry, many of them older folks, quickly loaded up trucks, cars, vans and
pickup trucks in a double line.
More than 27,540 pounds of food was distributed on this day, enough to feed
Once a busy industrial center, Logan has fallen on hard times, as has much
of Appalachian Ohio. Goodyear and four other major employers left the
community in recent years.
Dannie Devol, a retired businessman who helps run the pantry, flipped
through a stack of new applicants for food assistance, wondering aloud how
some of them make it. ‘‘It’s sad."
Anderson has cared for her grandchildren much of the time since her son,
Marty L. Hopkins, and his long-time girlfriend, Tina M. Davis, died Nov. 24,
1997, when they apparently leaped from an Amtrak train in Omaha, Neb.
Autopsies showed the Logan couple had methamphetamines, marijuana and
perscription drugs in their blood.
Life is a daily struggle for Anderson since being laid off from her
$8-an-hour job at Cyril-Scott, a Lancaster printing company.
With her unemployment expired, Anderson and the two grandchildren who still
live with her — Amber, 16, and Justin, 14, (Nicole, 18, has moved to town) —
get by on $972 a month in death benefits the two youngest children receive
from their father’s estate, plus food stamps and help from the pantry.
It goes quickly.
Rent for her two-bedroom basement apartment outside Logan is $500.
Electricity burns $133 to $188 monthly, the phone bill is $53, satellite TV
runs $70 and truck insurance costs $35.
On the fifth of each month, Anderson drives 20 miles to Lancaster, stopping
first at the Logan County Department of Job and Family Services where her
food-stamp allotment is loaded into a debit card.
Mindful of each penny, she has a two-stop shopping plan designed to leave
her with $40-$50 for milk, bread and other incidentals the rest of the
At Aldi, a discount grocery, Anderson spent $69.86 for offbrand canned and
Then she went to Festival Foods for produce, meat and the few brand-name
luxuries — Folgers coffee and Miracle Whip for herself, Jif peanut butter
and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for her grandchildren.
Anderson allowed herself one impulse buy — a can of Kool-Aid, enough to make
eight quarts, on sale for $1.37.
After paying the $133.89 bill, she was left with $42.73 in food stamps for
the rest of the month.
How does she keep going?
‘‘Him," Anderson said, pointing a trembling finger at a photo of her son.
‘‘I know that’s what he would want me to do. Every day I think about him.
‘‘We’ve had some tough times, but we manage to get through somehow."
She’s been without an oven for more than a year, her clothes washer is about
to break down, and the truck needs repairs.
But if and when she has the money, Anderson won’t fix any of them. She wants
to buy a headstone for her son’s grave. She saw one on sale recently in a
newspaper ad — $399, marked down from $1,299.
Dispatch reporter Jonathan Riskind contributed to this story.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
When jobs vanish, fear consumes one’s days
Thursday, June 10, 2004, Alan Johnson , Jonathan Riskind and Catherine
Candisky, THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH
NEAL C . LAURON | DISPATCH
Erwin L. Reuss Jr. frequently helps his daughter, Megan, with homework.
Looking back, he says he wishes he’d gone to college instead of going to
work at $17 an hour as a welder, a job that later disappeared.
SPRINGFIELD, Ohio — Eager to start her life, Amanda Fowler got a job when she
went to college, worked hard and dreamed of a bright future.
less than a decade later, Fowler is unemployed, pregnant, scared and
disillusioned. She and her husband are without a permanent home. He is working
without benefits at Taco Bell after losing his job as a tool-anddie maker.
24, Fowler wonders if she will have a place to live when her baby, a girl to
be named Morgan, is born next month.
‘‘Everything I own is in a plastic box," she said, wiping away a tear. ‘‘It
feels like I’ve worked for nothing.’ "
They lived awhile with her parents and then his.
the bottom has fallen out of one of those safety nets: Her father is seriously
ill and must sell the family farm in South Vienna where she grew up, along
with his farm equipment and household goods — including her grandmother’s
Experts say Fowler represents a large number of Ohioans seeking work in a
sputtering economy. Despite a modest statewide unemployment rate, good-paying
jobs with benefits remain scarce in many parts of the state.
While the country lost 1.5 percent of its jobs between 2000 and 2003, Ohio saw
4.3 percent — 233,488 jobs — disappear, according to an Ohio Association of
Community Action Agencies report, the ‘‘State of Poverty in Ohio 2004."
these uncertain economic times, the political buzz words of the 2004
presidential campaign — outsourced, downsized and underemployed — apply to
people like Fowler.
President Bush has touted recent gains in the number of people employed
nationwide — a 248,000 jolt upward in May following increases of 346,000 in
April and 353,000 in March — as evidence that the economy is rebounding.
Sen. John Kerry, the presumptive Democratic presidential nominee, counters
that recent job gains are outweighed by a total loss of 1.9 million
private-sector jobs — and a net loss of more than 1 million — since Bush took
office in 2001.
Regardless of the contentious political debate, George Zeller is convinced
that Ohio’s economy began foundering long before the recession of 2001.
Zeller, senior researcher at the Council for Economic Opportunities in Greater
Cleveland, said that since mid-1996, Ohio’s job growth has been slower than in
‘‘We went into the recession earlier than the rest of the country, and we’re
still losing jobs more than the rest of the country. The economic growth of
Ohio has been sub-par — and not just during the recession, but during the last
eight years continuously."
Among the 42,800 Ohioans who exhausted their unemployment benefits between
December 2003 and April 2004 was Erwin L. Reuss Jr., 59, of Springfield.
Like Fowler, Reuss’ dream became a nightmare when he was downsized from two
jobs and was unable to pay his rent. He is living on the edge.
‘‘It seems like the first thing on my mind in the morning is bills, and the
last thing on my mind at night is bills," Reuss said. ‘‘It doesn’t go away.
March, 345,000 jobless workers across the country used up the last of their
unemployment benefits, a singlemonth record, according to the Center on Budget
and Policy Priorities, a liberal Washington research group.
Tim Kane of the conservative Heritage Foundation contends there’s nothing
inherently wrong with the economy. He said the current unemployment rate,
hovering around 5.7 percent, is below the average rate of the past three
‘‘The labor force is growing, not shrinking," wrote Kane and Paul Kersey of
the Heritage Foundation last month. ‘‘The idea of a shrinking or discouraged
work force is a myth. . . . One million people joined the labor force in 2003,
and total employment increased by a net 1.34 million workers during that same
period, which means that the ranks of the unemployed declined by 340,000."
From appearances, Reuss is doing reasonably well. He has a van and a boat. And
there is a big-screen television in the living room of the comfortable
Springfield house he shares with his 12-year-old daughter, Megan.
after working his entire adult life, Reuss finds himself in a financial hole.
In April, he turned to Catholic Social Services of Clark, Champaign and Logan
Counties for help and received $200 toward his rent and other expenses.
the seven months since he was laid off as a maintenance man at a Springfield
nursing home, Reuss has lost 30 pounds and begun taking antidepressants. His
previous job disappeared when Darby Creek Ag Enterprises of Milford Center
moved its animalfeed plant out of town.
feel useless and worthless. I’m 59 years old, and nobody wants to hire me."
receives $259 a month in food stamps and has a government medical card for
health care and prescriptions. He pays $375 a month in rent, $80 for
natural-gas service and $40 for electricity.
After submitting resumes to about 50 businesses, a Springfield transportation
company offered him a job as a driver for a passenger service. He is in the
process of completing requirements for that position.
nearby South Vienna, Fowler’s father, Jerry, worked all his life, getting up
at 3 a.m. to work the farm while holding down a job as a maintenance man at a
Amanda Fowler earned an associate’s degree after high school and landed a job
caring for the mentally retarded and developmentally disabled, bringing home
$583 every two weeks.
married Karl Randolph, 30, a family friend since high school.
Randolph was working at St. Mary’s Tool & Die in Troy, earning $12.75 an hour,
but he was laid off because of cutbacks at the factory.
Then, given the rigorous nature of her job, Fowler was placed on leave because
of her pregnancy. She said she couldn’t find work despite applying at 30
places, including fast-food restaurants.
couple had to sell their house, store their belongings in a friend’s garage
and shuttle between their parents’ homes.
Randolph eventually landed a job on the late-night shift at Taco Bell, earning
$6.50 an hour with no benefits.
Fowler, meanwhile, was growing desperate with a baby on the way and no income
reluctantly came to a Springfield food pantry for help. Fowler also obtained
welfare benefits, health care for her and the baby, $114 a month in food
stamps and a $25 monthly stipend for gas. In return, she must work 27 hours a
month at Catholic Social Services under Ohio’s welfare-towork initiative.
‘‘If it’s not for medication or keeping the lights on, we don’t get it. I
probably have 50 cents to my name right now."
Fowler’s dreams these days are simple.
hope I open my drawer and find my own clothes."
Friday, June 11, 2004
welfare no guarantee of success
Friday, June 11, 2004, Catherine Candisky and Alan Johnson, THE COLUMBUS
MIKE ELICSON | FOR THE DISPATCH
MIKE ELICSON | FOR THE DISPATCH
Mary Meade handles groceries for needy families at the Living Word Church
food pantry in Junction City. Meade also relies on the food pantry.
LEXINGTON, Ohio — Nine years ago, Mary Meade left the welfare rolls to work as
an aide at a group home for mentally disabled adults.
She’s had the same job since, but steady work has not brought selfsufficiency
— the stated goal of welfare reform — to the 38-year-old mother of three
$7.68 an hour, Meade’s annual salary is about $16,000 — $2,850 less than the
federal poverty rate for a family of four.
don’t have Internet, we don’t have cable and we traded our home phone for a
cell phone because it was cheaper," Meade said as she rocked her month-old
grandson at the Living Word Church’s food pantry in nearby Junction City.
is a month behind on her mobile-home payment, and her water was shut off last
month because she didn’t pay the bill. Broken windows and a sinking bathroom
floor have gone unrepaired for months in their Perry County home.
need to make sure I pay the electric bill this month, because I didn’t pay it
last," said Meade, a high-school graduate who completed two semesters at
Hocking College in Nelsonville. "I rob Peter to pay Paul. Really."
Chuck Drake, a church member who oversees the pantry, said it has outgrown the
dilapidated building on Rt. 37 where it started in 1997. Now serving about 350
families a month, the group has applied for a grant to help with a $275,000
"The need is definitely growing," Drake said. "We take care of a lot of people
who are working but not quite making it, and often they have to make a choice
between paying utilities or buying food, paying for medications or buying
Like Meade, many have traded in their monthly cash-assistance check for a
paycheck. While welfare rolls have dropped to their lowest levels in more than
three decades, many former recipients remain poor.
"People are getting off welfare but not out of poverty," said Shawn Fremstad,
deputy director of welfare-reform policy for the Center on Budget and Policy
Priorities in Washington.
"It’s not like everybody moves off (welfare), gets a stable job and is set to
contrast, Robert Rector, a Heritage Foundation senior research fellow in
Washington, D.C., said in a recent analysis that the welfare overhaul has
"made remarkable headway in helping welfare dependents to move toward
self-sufficiency. It dramatically reduced the caseload of dependents, reduced
child poverty and increased employment among single mothers."
fact, former recipients working even minimum-wage jobs are better off than
they were when they received a monthly welfare check — benefits that amounted
to less than a third of the federal poverty level.
"What we should be talking about is getting people on career paths," said Joel
Potts, a senior policy analyst for the Ohio Department of Job and Family
Services. "That’s the bigger debate."
With a high-school diploma and limited skills, Meade and others like her are
still struggling in low-wage jobs. The economic downturn of the past few years
has made things worse.
Many are turning to food pantries and other charities for help with rent and
"When you look at gasoline prices, and even the price of milk, everything
keeps going up," Meade said.
started coming to Living Word’s pantry about five years ago when she was off
work with a ruptured disk.
Uneasy about the handout, Meade and her younger two children, Amanda, 15, and
Steven, 17, started working at the pantry, stocking shelves and carrying boxes
of groceries to the steady stream of vehicles that moves through the line.
hour before the pantry opened on a hazy Saturday morning last month, more than
50 vehicles were lined up. Another 20 joined the queue by the time the pantry
opened at 9.
Inside one of three buildings used by the pantry, volunteers registered people
new to the food line under a banner reading, "Jesus said feed my sheep." On
the table was taped another message urging people to "Tell Gov. (Bob) Taft
don’t cut health care."
Meade and her children helped fill boxes with eggs, potatoes, cereal, frozen
pizzas and canned foods before loading food into their own car.
"They like volunteering," she said. "I want them to see that there are people
worse off than them."
Meade stretches her paycheck to pay as many bills as possible, while relying
on $83 a month in food stamps and the pantry to feed her family. By the end of
the month, her refrigerator is empty, the cupboards bare.
usually have milk at the beginning of the month, but by the end of the month,
sometimes the kids have to eat their cereal with water," she said. "They put a
lot of sugar on it."
Meade’s husband, Ben, is forced to live in a camper parked beside her mobile
home. When the couple separated a few years back, Meade took him off her
health insurance. They reunited, but a pre-existing ailment — he’s had three
heart attacks and is on dialysis — prevents her from putting him back on her
Because of government red tape, the only way he could get health insurance is
for the couple to live apart — even if it’s only 25 feet.
Meade said a caseworker told them it didn’t matter that they are still
married: He has to maintain a separate address to qualify for Medicaid, the
state-federal health-care program, because she earns too much.
54-year-old husband worked 15 years at a funeral home but said his employer
never paid his Social Security or workers’ compensation, and he has no
Mary Meade doesn’t care to dwell on the negative. She knows she might never
earn a livable wage but says she’s luckier than many of her friends and
neighbors. She has high hopes for her own children.
want my kids to go to college," she said. "I want them to get an education."
Dispatch reporter Jonathan Riskind contributed to this story.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Caring couple keep giving despite their troubles
Saturday, June 12, 2004, Catherine Candisky and Alan Johnson, THE COLUMBUS
Tariq Stevens and his wife, Naimah Ali-Stevens, of the
East Side, cheer on the Little Sister Drummers, a musical-dance group of
youths from their neighborhood, at the Columbus Culture Fest at City Hall
FRED SQUILLANTE | DISPATCH
Naimah Ali-Stevens and her husband set up a tent in
their back yard to hold the clothing that they donate to the needy.
giver most of her life, Naimah Ali-Stevens found it difficult to be a taker
even when she needed it most. Out of work as a caregiver for the disabled
while her husband, Tariq Stevens, recovered from emergency quadruple-bypass
surgery, Naimah watched fearfully as medical bills reached $175,000 last year.
Finally, the Columbus couple filed for bankruptcy. In the blink of an eye, the
helpers needed help. To put food on the table, they’ve been among the hundreds
who line up each week at the Lutheran Social Services food pantry at Champion
and Frebis avenues on the South Side. The largest pantry in Franklin County,
it serves mostly working poor and others who have languished for months on
unemployment rolls. Naimah and Tariq’s story could end there. But it doesn’t.
Instead of succumbing to despair after working all their lives, Naimah, 62,
and Tariq, 63, continue their brand of home-grown charity. Although they
aren’t sure where next month’s mortgage payment is coming from, they continue
giving clothes to the needy from tents erected in the back yard of their East
Side home. They also volunteer time with neighborhood youths, including a
group called Little Sister Drummers.
Sharon Daly, vice president of social policy for the Washingtonbased Catholic
Charities USA, said that as food lines grow, so does the number of donors and
volunteers finding themselves in the same situation as those they’ve tried to
‘‘Among that group that are normally able to provide for themselves but have
been unemployed for a long time, we find many former donors and volunteers who
are just humiliated to have to come in and beg for help," Daly said.
Tariq and Naimah don’t fret.
‘‘You just roll with it if you’ve got faith," Naimah said. ‘‘The Lord got me
this far. Where it’s going to end, I do not know."
‘‘We stopped worrying about it a long time ago," her husband chimed in. ‘‘When
we’ve needed something, it’s showed up."
Many Americans have become overwhelmed with debt in recent years.
Personal bankruptcies have been mounting for a decade, breaking the 1 million
mark in 1996 and rising to a calendaryear record of more than 1.6 million in
2003, according to figures kept by the Administrative Office of the U.S.
economic boom of the late 1990s briefly interrupted the trend, with the number
of filings falling between 1998 and 2000.
Roger Whelan, a resident scholar at the American Bankruptcy Institute and a
former U.S. Bankruptcy Court judge, said he expects the number of personal
bankruptcies to surpass 1.7 million this year, despite an economy that is
High and unexpected healthcare costs can hammer a family such as the Stevens’,
which is already facing financial problems. A study by the Kaiser Commission
on Medicaid and the Uninsured showed that families living at 200 percent or
less of the poverty level must spend a greater percentage of their income on
health care and other basic needs.
Similarly, job losses — and with them, full-time benefits — contributed to the
rising number of uninsured Americans. The ranks of the uninsured grew to 43.6
million in 2002, an increase of 2.4 million people, according to the U.S.
Even though both worked, the Stevenses had no health insurance. Tariq receives
limited benefits as a veteran, and Naimah has sought care from the East
Central Health Center, which is funded with tax dollars but privately operated
and charges based on a patient’s ability to pay.
Neither is in good health. Both suffer from diabetes and high blood pressure.
Naimah, a former smoker, was receiving free blood-pressure medication through
a smoking-cessation program, but funds that came from Ohio’s tobacco
settlement ran out in March, and the program was discontinued.
Heart disease and a stroke he suffered late last year robbed Tariq of his
sight in one eye, rendering him unable to sew his Tariq Kufi, the
African-style hats he made and sold to earn a living.
Naimah recently resumed working as a licensed caregiver under contract with
the Ohio Department of Job and Family Services.
More than ever, the couple seem to draw strength from their continued efforts
to help others.
They met in 1987 when Tariq was at the Orient Correctional Institution doing a
four-year term for his stint as an ‘‘industrial burglar" who broke into
businesses after hours. Naimah worked with a church group providing special
food items for Islamic inmates.
There were stops and starts, but the couple wed — first in a prison ceremony
in 1989 and last year in a civil ceremony as Tariq faced life-threatening
Tariq doesn’t dwell on the hard times but said the sputtering economy has hit
hard in his inner-city neighborhood.
‘‘There was a time when everyone I knew had a good job, and a lot of them paid
well," Tariq said. ‘‘Now nobody has a job. They’re just standing around."
Naimah, whose name means ‘‘paradise" in Arabic, says she dreams of opening a
home for children with handicaps and developmental disabilities. Over the
years, the couple have taken in many children, as foster parents.
Naimah was sorting through the racks of clothes under a tent behind her house,
a young neighborhood woman walked into the back yard. She hesitated and, when
Naimah noticed her, apologized for intruding and turned to leave.
Naimah put an arm around her and guided her into the tent, showing her an
assortment of dresses, suits and other used clothing. As the woman began
looking through the clothes, Naimah smiled. ‘‘Take your time," she told her.
‘‘Take whatever you want." The woman left with a bag of clothes. ‘‘There’s
more to this than the clothes," Naimah said. ‘‘There’s hope."
Dispatch reporter Jonathan Riskind contributed to this story.
Food pantry volunteers ‘called to serve’
Saturday, June 12, 2004, Catherine Candisky and Alan Johnson, THE COLUMBUS
TIM REVELL | DISPATCH PHOTOS
‘‘I’ve been known to go door to door with my kids and a wagon for a food
drive." LISA ROBERTS who helps run the Friends and Neighbors Community
Choice Center in Coolville on a $200-amonth budget
Barbara J. Packer gave up a corporate career to follow her calling to help
the needy at pantries run by Lutheran Social Services in Columbus.
Hazel Life earns minimum wage as a store cashier but her passion is working
free, caring for the people of her hometown.
Many people pray for good health and good fortune. Barbara J. Packer prays for
When the Lutheran Social Services food pantry she manages ran out of cereal
last year, she got on her knees and asked God for the breakfast food popular
with kids at Franklin County’s largest food pantry.
8 a.m. the next day, the phone rang in the building at Champion and Frebis
avenues on Columbus’ South Side. A transportation company had a truckload of
misdirected merchandise that couldn’t be delivered to its destination.
Could the pantry use some cereal?
‘‘He said, ‘The only catch is you need to take it off the truck within 48
hours,’ and I said, ‘No problem,’ " she recalled.
Packer, 54, former general manager of the Sears store in upscale Tuttle Mall,
grew tired of the corporate world after 36 years. Now she is one of many who
find great reward serving Ohio’s growing legion of needy families.
Some, like Packer, are paid staff members. Most are volunteers.
‘‘This is the best job I’ve ever had," she said. ‘‘It’s not really a job; it’s
peers around Ohio include a high-school dropout denied food from a pantry when
she was young, a wealthy older couple trying to give something back to their
community, and a middle-age man inspired when his aging parents found
themselves in need.
Hazel Life, 37, and Lisa Roberts, 40, are small-town dynamos with big-time
hearts who run the Friends and Neighbors Community Choice Center housed in the
Coolville Lions Club. Neither is paid.
Athens County center is a family of families. Everyone is greeted with a hug,
and no one is turned away if there is food on the shelves.
needy gather for a free lunch on Wednesday — spaghetti, salad and bread sticks
during a recent visit. They also can visit the food pantry, select clothing
from a free supply, see a volunteer nurse or seek home-repair help.
center runs on $200 a month, which comes from private donations and a credit
from a regional food bank.
‘‘I’ve been known to go door to door with my kids and a wagon for a food
drive," Roberts said.
husband recently was laid off from his $15-an-hour machinist job at O’Ames
True Temper, a Parkersburg, W.Va., manufacturer of garden tools.
Roberts is motivated by the time years ago when she was turned away from a
food pantry as a young mother. That gives her an ‘‘enormous responsibility.
Now that we’re here, people depend on us."
Life, a single mother of three, has faced her own challenges.
Five years ago, she was laid off from a $19-an-hour job as a systems analyst
at a Columbus hospital, and now she works as a cashier in a Coolville
convenience store for the minimum wage, $5.15.
Still, she often dips into her purse to help Coolville’s needy.
grew up poor," she said. ‘‘These people are my friends."
Logan, Dannie Devol, 78, and his wife, Jane, 70, don’t have to work. They own
profitable chalets in the Hocking Hills.
four years ago, they began a running a small pantry out of their home, giving
out food and clothing. It grew quickly, and they secured a nearby building
that now serves up to 1,500 people a month.
‘‘It’s a free country, and it’s been good to us," Devol said about
volunteering. ‘‘We pay back to the community."
Junction City, Chuck Drake dreams of a proposed $275,000 drivethrough to ease
the back-breaking task of distributing thousands of pounds of food twice
monthly to 500 hungry families in Perry, Hocking and Fairfield counties.
pantry managed by Drake and operated by the Living Word Church outside
Junction City is housed in three buildings. Food must be moved at least four
times before it is loaded by volunteers into battered cars and pickup trucks.
Drake was inspired to volunteer because of the plight of his parents, retirees
struggling to get by after working all their lives. They, too, come to the
pantry. ‘‘These people are good people. A lot of them have fallen in a bad
situation and don’t know how to get out of it."
Thursday, June 17, 2004, Editorial, The Columbus Dispatch
Good-paying jobs are dwindling, and lines at food pantries are getting longer.
That is the nutshell version of last week’s seven-day Dispatch series, "Lines
of Despair," which gave an unprecedented in-depth view of why, in a land of
plenty, so many Ohioans are asking for food handouts.
figures are indisputable: More than 150,000 people per week seek free food;
the number has increased three consecutive years; the 4 percent increase in
food available at pantries in this year’s first quarter pales in comparison
with the 44 percent increase in need.
suggestion by Eric Bost, U.S. Agriculture Department undersecretary for food
and nutrition service, that such people are taking the easy way out is
ludicrous. Proving the need for handouts and standing in line to get boxes of
macaroni and cheese and cans of soup do not lure people trying to game the
People come to food pantries for good reasons: They’re hungry, their children
are hungry and their resources aren’t up to the challenge of a global
marketplace that is changing not only the face of employment in Ohio and the
nation but the face of hunger.
Nobody can predict the outcome of the economic changes sweeping this land any
more than people at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution could predict
that robots someday would be welding cars.
Meantime, fewer safety nets are available to catch people pushed over the
edge. Federal and state cutbacks have taken already thin programs to help the
needy down to the bone, and many aid programs have disappeared. Food banks,
churches and other faith-based organizations are barely keeping up.
Volunteers at pantries and professionals in food-aid circles, who have been
witnessing a change in the face of hunger, believe the worst is yet to come.
Their fears are well-founded because people once believed to be at low risk of
needing help are among those swelling the food lines.
"These are people who played by the rules," said Lisa Hamler-Podolski of the
Ohio Association of Second Harvest Foodbanks. "They had jobs and paid their
taxes and their bills on time."
cites the severe decline in bluecollar jobs that paid $15 to $20 an hour in
Ohio as a major reason for an upsurge in such people needing food. Meantime,
low-wage service-industry jobs are increasing, but many of those workers,
though they qualify for and use food stamps, may need to visit the pantries as
prices rise. White-collar workers, too, are not immune. Middlemanagers,
technicians and even corporate officers who have been laid off because of
downsizing and restructuring discover few comparable jobs are to be had.
Hamler-Podolski said these "new poor" do not suddenly end up in food lines;
they go through several stages of personal downsizing that might include
depletion of savings, cashing out 401(k)s, taking second mortgages, maxing out
credit cards and seeking help from friends and family. As the sea of debt
rises and options run out, a once-unthinkable plight becomes the reality of
standing in a food line and having to divulge personal information to prove
Always included in those lines are the disabled, the chronically unemployed
and the working poor, many of whom have gotten off welfare but don’t earn
enough money to feed their families, even with the aid of food stamps.
Dispatch reporters saw many of the faces of hunger: senior citizens raising
grandchildren; divorced, widowed and separated adults of many ages; the
chronically ill; and low-skilled, poorly educated people.
Perhaps most revealing is that food pantries are beginning to serve families
of Reserve and National Guard troops who are on extended duty in Iraq and
Afghanistan. They are among the 42 percent of families served by food banks
while still employed.
General Assembly has recognized the crisis and approved funding to help secure
food for pantries, yet inventories are critically low. Congress, which has a
fat-laden farm-aid bill to its credit, has yet to do anything meaningful about
hunger, and Bost’s imprudent "easy-way-out" remark indicates a mind-set in the
administration that will have to be changed.
Pantries increasingly rely on donations from private groups, companies and
Those who remain skeptical only need to visit a pantry or, better yet,
volunteer at one. The lines of despair are real. The need is for more people
in this land of plenty to step forward with time, food and money.
Outpouring of kindness
follows look at poverty
Published: Sunday, June 27, 2004, By Alan Johnson
and Catherine Candisky, The Columbus Dispatch
ice cream and baby clothes to a tombstone and more than $14,000 in cash, offers
of help for needy Ohioans featured in "Lines of Despair'' -- a Dispatch series
about the new poverty -- poured in from as far away as California.
was a godsend,'' said Hazel Life, after receiving $2,500 from a Delaware, Ohio,
donor for the Friends and Family Community Choice Center she helps run in rural
Coolville in Athens County.
going to enable us to feed people at least until November or December.''
series, published June 6-12, documented a new kind of poverty triggered by a
soft, changing economy and reflected in the sharply rising demand at food
pantries statewide. There was a 44 percent jump from the end of 2003 to the
first three months of this year, according to the Ohio Association of Second
Harvest Foodbanks, representing 3,000 sites statewide.
people opened their hearts and wallets to individuals featured in the weeklong
Donors offered stoves and a washing machine for Nancy Anderson, 60, a Logan
woman raising her grandchildren who had been without a stove for a year and has
had trouble with her washer. An anonymous donor from Fairfield County gave $400
to pay for a tombstone that Anderson vowed for seven years to place on the
Nelsonville grave of her son, Marty L. Hopkins, and his girlfriend, Tina M.
Davis. The couple were killed Nov. 24, 1997, when they leaped from a train in
she received the call about the tombstone donation, Anderson was out mowing a
yard "trying to make a little bit of money,'' she said.
put my hand to the wall and took a deep breath,'' she said. "I can't believe
there's somebody out there that doesn't know me that has consideration for my
son. I'm so grateful.''
Nelson, who lives on the Far East Side, said she reads bits of the paper every
day to her 3-year-old adopted daughters, Julia and Irena. She read a "real
gentle version'' of the Dispatch series, including a story about Mary Meade, a
New Lexington mother who sometimes serves her kids cereal with water when she
can't afford milk.
days later, Nelson overheard her Russian-born daughters trying to break into
"We're giving our money to the lady for milk,'' one of the girls said.
Nelsons sent $48.64 to the foodbank association for Meade.
Several agencies received cash donations, some of them anonymous.
Living Word Church pantry in Junction City received $3,000 from a California
donor, and the Smith Chapel United Methodist Food Pantry in Logan received
$2,500 from Virginia. Employees at Nationwide chipped in $1,000, as did a Grove
Pantries reported receiving smaller donations of up to $500.
Springfield, Catholic Social Services received a box of baby clothes for Amanda
Fowler, 24, an unemployed mother-to-be whose husband lost his factory job and
went to work without benefits at Taco Bell.
agency also received cash and food donations, Director Vince Chase said.
Humphrey, director of Westerville Area Resources Ministry, a collaborative
charitable effort of 20 churches, reported an
outpouring of help for two area single mothers, Angel Buckley and Lisa
Shilling, featured in the series.
more than $400 the agency received, Humphrey said some was earmarked for
haircuts, clothes, shoes, family portraits and ice cream for the kids. Shilling
received a donation to cover the cost of books for a college course she is
Lutheran Social Services in Columbus, food pantry Director Barbara Packer said
she had received several hundred dollars in donations and many offers of
"We've had nothing but positive responses.''
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