Away from the city

Theresa Fowler was up and dressed for work early Aug. 15, the day the mobile food pantry from Second Harvest Gleaners of West Michigan rumbled into the parking lot of Fifth Reformed Church on M-120 to pass out free food.

Fowler, who had a 10-hour work day ahead of her at the Wesco gas station on Maple Island Road outside Fremont, was in the Gleaners' line by 7 a.m.

The 46-year-old works 40 hours a week, extra if she can, and always on holidays when the pay is higher. Yet, to make ends meet, she has to rely on charity once a month to help put food on the table.

"I'm standing in line because I need help," Fowler said.

She had taken special care to get dressed that morning. Her shirt was pressed; her blue jeans rolled to capri-length; her hair already moussed and spiked into place.

"Can't be late for work," she said.

Her presence, the fact she was in a work uniform, waiting for food, preached a sermon all its own about the plight of Muskegon County's working poor -- people who have jobs but are struggling financially.

"Everyone here's got a story," Fowler said.

She looked up and down the line growing in number, everyone clutching a basket or empty box to fill with food. Some had been in line since before 5 a.m. Fowler was No. 61 in a line that grew to 218 by 10 a.m.

Gleaners trucks, filled with free food, make as many as 10 stops each month in Muskegon County -- but the one on Aug. 15 was unique. Most of the August sites were in the county's urban core. The one at Fifth Reformed Church, located at 2330 Holton not far from the U.S. 31 interchange, was "the farthest out" geographically. It drew residents from Dalton and Cedar Creek Townships, Twin Lake, Holton and homes considered on the "outskirts" of Muskegon County.

"It's tough," Fowler said. "Look around, nobody's job is safe anymore. People are struggling in the city, and out here, too."

Suddenly overcome with emotion, standing in the midst of so much apparent need, Fowler leaned on the shoulder of her next-door neighbor, Diane Blondeel, with whom she had come to the food truck -- and, for a few minutes, she cried her heart out. Her tears prompted a stranger to give up her place in line ahead of Fowler in order to comfort her.

"It's OK. You're a good person," the stranger said, patting Fowler on the shoulder.

Fowler worked to regain her composure, find her voice again.

"That's hard to say; hard to admit. I've always worked, always taken care of myself and my family," she said. "Saying it out loud: I need help. That's hard."

Fowler is caught, squeezed, forced by circumstances into a growing population of the "near" or "working poor." At least one-fifth of Muskegon County residents find themselves in a similar situations, unable to stretch paychecks already strained to the breaking point in precarious economic times.

Fowler, who has two adult children and a grandchild living with her, brings home about $250 a week. Her job includes health, dental and vision insurance "which keeps me going. I don't know what I'd do without that," she said.

"But I'm caught in the middle," Fowler said. "I work, so I don't qualify for (public assistance) from the state, but I don't make enough to get what I need, either."

Like a reliable vehicle, for instance, to get back and forth from work.

Fowler lives in a subdivision in Cedar Creek Estates on River Road in northeastern Muskegon Township on the border of Cedar Creek Township -- "where it's not quite city, but it's not country, either," she said. She doesn't have access to public transportation where she lives. No Muskegon Area Transit System buses go anywhere near her house. She has to drive wherever she goes -- to the grocery store, the drug store, the doctor, to work, even to the Gleaners truck delivery -- which quickly drains her pocketbook in an era of $4 a gallon gas prices.

She drives 30 miles round-trip to her job in an aging, unreliable Jeep she cannot afford to replace, even though the gas gauge is broken, and the engine is suspect. She cannot shift the car into reverse, so she has to carefully plot out her day's travels, or else waste time and gas.

At the same time, she cannot afford to move from her duplex in Creekwood Estates because her rent is determined on a sliding pay scale, "otherwise I don't know what I'd do," she said.

Divorced after 20 years of marriage, Fowler worked three jobs -- a 14-hour day was commonplace -- when her children were younger, just to support them.

"I've always stood on my own two feet," she said. "It's my pride that's hurt ... to have to ask for help now. I've never had to rely on anyone. I always said no matter what it took, even if it meant living in a tin can, I was going to support me and my kids. That's my job. I'm the mom."

Jane Johnson, director of Muskegon County's Department of Human Services, who has worked in the social service sector for more than 30 years, hears stories similar to Fowler's every day. They are the stories behind the statistics of a "nation in crisis," Johnson said. The majority of DHS clients receiving food, day care or emergency utilities assistance are employed.

"We're seeing people asking for help who've never been here before," Johnson said.

Fowler makes too much money to qualify for government assistance, but she cuts corners wherever she can, shopping yard sales. And once a month when the Gleaners' truck is scheduled to stop at Fifth Reformed Church, not far from where she lives, she stands in line for three hours -- or more -- with Blondeel, who is on disability, to receive whatever surplus food they have.

On Aug. 15, she went home with a laundry basket filled with bread and fresh cabbage, surplus sweet corn and tubs of sour cream, lettuce and a carton of soy milk. It is the only Gleaners' stop Fowler frequents. The others are simply too far away to seek out.

Living outside of Muskegon's urban center presents what Johnson called "complicators of distance," challenges that go beyond the skyrocketing cost of propane gas or fewer food pantries in the country.

Think of all the kids who take school buses home -- because there is no other transportation in the family -- and so they can't take part in after school activities. Think of the kids whose parents are having a tough time paying the electric bill, let alone finding the money for field trips, pay-for-play sports or driver education classes.