Raleigh News and Observer, March 18, 2008: Wanted: food stamp applicants
, Staff Writer
SMITHFIELD – At 79, Earl Rudd is worn out and nearly broke.
Pride kept him from asking for help. Rudd realized recently that pride wasn’t filling his cupboard. On Monday, he drove his Buick to Smithfield and applied for food stamps at the Johnston County Social Services office.
“I’ve always been able to stand on my own two feet, but I just don’t know how much longer I can do that,” he said.
Rudd is one of nearly half a million people across North Carolina who are too poor to afford healthful groceries, yet are not seeking help, the U.S. Department of Agriculture estimates. Now the agency is trying to reach them, particularly the elderly such as Rudd. Officials think a combination of pride, transportation challenges and confusion over the program keep many older residents away.
To get out the word about food stamps, the USDA launched a $3 million advertising campaign this winter. Old-fashioned jingles are blaring across Triangle radio stations, coaxing people to apply.
The USDA chose the Triangle and 34 other areas across America using poverty rates and low enrollment numbers. In the Triangle, only an estimated 60 percent of eligible residents are getting food stamps; nationally, 65 percent get food stamps, at a cost of about $33 billion.
Johnston, Wake, Durham and Franklin counties’ enrollments exceed the national average; Chatham and Orange counties are well below. Sandy Coletta, the Chatham social services director, said she’s not sure why rates are so low in her county, but her agency is trying to boost enrollment by talking to church groups and senior centers.
One jingle broadcast on oldies, rhythm and blues and country stations features a slick game-show guessing game to help clear up myths about eligibility requirements. Have a car? You can still get help. Money in the bank? Apply anyway. Single? You matter, too.
Behind the commercials, though, is a sobering problem. A recent spike in grocery prices, brought on in part by a tripling in the cost of wheat, is pinching most Americans, none more than the poor and elderly on fixed incomes. Some analysts expect the prices of nearly 80 percent of grocery items to soar above normal inflation rates.
Government officials have crunched numbers indicating that a single mother with one child can’t afford to eat right if she earns less than $17,800 a year. The food stamp program, enacted during the Depression in the 1930s, was designed to give free food such as meat, milk, fruit and vegetables to needy people. It was also a boon to farmers, and improved the health of the nation’s neediest families.
“When you’re in poverty, you don’t buy nutritious food,” said Dean Simpson, section chief for economic services at the state Division of Social Services. “Veggies are more expensive than potato chips. We don’t want our poor subsisting on nothing but potato chips.”
Illness and bills
Rudd planned to work, driving a truck or working a security detail, until he was no longer able. That point arrived sooner than he planned. A decade ago, cancer attacked both him and his late wife. He beat the disease, but it crippled his wife, Nellie. Rudd cared for her around the clock in their northwestern Johnston County home before her death in January.
The years of bad health broke them. They had to refinance their home to pay medical bills; after making loan payments for more than 35 years, Rudd owes more than he borrowed to buy it.
About a year and a half ago, Rudd and his wife fussed over the cost of an item in the aisle of a Food Lion store.
A man approached and quietly slipped them a card for a local food pantry. Ever since, Rudd’s been turning to Basic Needs Ministry for enough canned vegetables and bread to get through that final week before his monthly $905 Social Security check arrives. There, Rudd is modest about what he’ll take. Often, he’ll leave whatever meat the ministry might have for families and take extra canned beans instead.
“It’s hard, you could spend $100 a week right fast like,” Rudd said.
Tackling debt, with help
Monday, he spent an hour telling intake worker Amanda Brewington his personal business. His insurance cards, driver’s license and bank statements were strewn across her desk like a deck of cards. He shook his head every few seconds: No, he didn’t own a motorcycle; no, he didn’t have a burial plot; no, he’s not on the lam from police.
Brewington will double-check his information and see what kind of help she can offer. She’ll calculate his monthly benefits by measuring his bills and debt against his monthly Social Security and a modest pension from Kmart.
Rudd hopes that by this time next month, the county will issue him a look-alike credit card to help buy groceries. If not, he’ll go back to the food pantry. This spring, he’ll have to find a way to tackle the mounting hospital bills left from his wife’s final days.
“Boy, I never meant to be here,” Rudd said, looking back at the social services building.
mandy.locke@newsobserver.com or (919) 829-8927