It's on the rise in rural areas
By Paul Sloth
Journal Times | Posted: Saturday, November 24, 2007 12:00 am
BURLINGTON - Jeanette Santiago walked out of a bad marriage and into an uncertain future.
She never planned to be homeless, but she was.
She still remembers how scared she was when she stood at the door of a Burlington homeless shelter in July, wondering if she'd ever see her 12-year-old daughter again.
That's when the tears started. They didn't stop for a long time.
The numbers of rural homeless have continued to increase in parts of the state like western Racine and Kenosha counties and, like Santiago, they're often women with children seeking help from places like Burlington's Transitional Living Center.
Santiago celebrated her 40th birthday at the center in October, which started out as a sad day. It got better once her surrogate family there cheered her up.
Weeks passed before she would again wear the wide smile that looks almost commonplace.
Santiago, who was eventually reunited with her daughter, now laughs with joy about the future that lies ahead, a future that includes a place of her own, where she'll live with her daughter while trying to save money and get back on her feet.
The scariest thing about the life she's lived for the past four months wasn't the uncertainty.
It was the decision to end her 19-year marriage.
For women like Santiago, it's an all-too-real story that is one of the most common causes of homelessness in rural America, experts say.
Women and children are consistently among the growing number of people who seek shelter in places like the Transitional Living Center's guesthouse, a temporary facility that helps clients with finances, counseling and mentoring.
For Santiago, it was a place where she gained a sense of herself and a new outlook on life.
"I think this was meant to be, for who I am," Santiago said. "I'm stronger because of this."
Another name for shelter
Nancy Hodge had already received two calls, on a recent afternoon, from people looking for a place to stay.
As the Transitional Living Center's executive director, Hodge tries to avoid the word shelter. To her, it conjures images of a cold institution and rows of beds.
That is not this place.
The guesthouse, all 3,000 square feet of it, consumes the second floor of a large building on the outskirts of Burlington.
Hodge takes pride in the warmth she and the center's small staff have created for the people who arrive at their door.
"We're not warehousing people. It's about helping them recover so they can be productive," Hodge said.
People who stay here are expected to work on the issues that got them here, she said.
What Hodge and her staff do, they do without government funding. The center relies on donations to help provide support to the roughly 50 individuals they assist on a monthly basis.
Not everyone stays.
Some visitors are more temporary than others. Some have greater needs. Some are trying to kick addictions. Others have escaped domestic violence.
There is something the center sees a lot of, Hodge said: children.
The center serves mostly women and children. Men have sought shelter there, but they have to be part of a family. The shelter does not serve single men. The staff must refer them to other places, which are few and usually full, Hodge said.
In her time at the center, Hodge has seen the numbers of homeless increase, for a variety of reasons - low-paying jobs or no jobs, high housing costs.
"There are a lot of people out there. People are on the verge every month, wondering, 'Am I going to be able to make my rent this month?' " Hodge said.
A drawing on the window
Rural homelessness looks somewhat different from its urban counterpart, Hodge said.
People seek shelter in barns and storage sheds. They move around, staying at different state parks during the warmer months. They sleep in
their cars.
The number of people who experience rural homelessness is unknown, but the last national count of homeless people found that 9 percent of homeless people live in rural areas, according to the National Alliance to End Homelessness.
"If we lived in a bigger city, it wouldn't be something that is so shocking to us," Hodge said.
In October, Burlington police responded to a report of someone sleeping inside the Santa's Chalet, at the site where the city stores it during the offseason.
Empty bags of Doritos and packs of Camel cigarettes lay on the floor inside the small building, which is stored near the city's compost site.
A witness noticed that someone had broken the lock off the door, according to police reports. When he opened the door, he found two people sleeping inside on mattresses. At least one was a young man, possibly in his 20s, the witness told police. They don't know whether the other person was male or female.
When the witness left to report the incident to police, the two people inside the building
disappeared.
Police suspect the people sleeping inside might have been homeless. They found two mattresses, blankets and a pair of men's underwear inside.
City workers discovered a child's drawing hung on the window of the tiny building.
The drawing, police believe, was that of a young child, maybe 4 or 5 years old.
In the summer of 2007, new data from the U.S. Census Bureau's American Community Survey showed that 22 percent of rural children are living in poverty, up from 19 percent in 2000.
Insufficient income, high rates of poverty and unemployment often lead to rural homelessness, experts say.
On average, rates are highest in the nonmetropolitan South, 27 percent, and have climbed the most in the nonmetropolitan Midwest, more than 3 percent since 2000.
One of the key differences between rural and urban homelessness is a lower capacity in the homeless services provided in rural areas as opposed to urban areas, according to the NAEH.
Hodge hopes to see that change. She and others in the Burlington community are working to find more room for people who need help.
Hodge said she needs more places like the Morrow House, a duplex in Burlington where clients from the Transitional Living Center move when they can no longer stay in the guesthouse, where they can stay for up to 30 days.
Clients can stay in the Morrow House for up to three months while they work to save money and find a place of their own.
In that time, Hodge and her staff, which includes two case workers, hope to help their clients help themselves get their lives back together.
"Not everyone who is homeless is uneducated or unemployable or an alcoholic," Hodge said. "They're real people that need to be loved. They need to be given the respect and dignity accorded to all human beings."
They call her Mom
Visitors to the guest house call Patty Foley "Mom" or "Grandma," depending on their age. She is the Transitional Living Center's live-in staff member who keeps a close eye on her temporary brood.
On Nov. 17, Jeanette Santiago loaded the last of her belongings before leaving the Transitional Living Center for her new home in Burlington.
She's since moved into the Morrow House, named for Judy Morrow, who was instrumental in helping to start the Transitional Living Center in 1993.
Before Santiago's last day in the guesthouse, she recounts the strength and support Foley provided to her during her stay.
Tears begin to well up in Foley's eyes. They're good tears.
Foley has never heard anyone talk about her this way.
They're proud tears.
No degrees, no certificates, no plaques adorn her walls. Foley didn't go to college for this.
She learned the hard way.
The support she provides to the residents staying in the guesthouse comes from her own experience.
She sits and laughs now with residents like Santiago, but roughly a decade ago she, too, found herself homeless. At the time, Foley was a single mother with five middle school-age children. They're all grown now.
She's cried the same tears Jeanette Santiago cried. She's known the same fears.
It gives her a keen perspective on what visitors to the guesthouse are experiencing. It gives her something more than a college degree ever would.
"You've just got to be able to love people and listen to people and help them," Foley said.