Homelessness has a face around here, and don't you dare look away...
Sarah is 24 years old, with three young children. She has a high school education, no car, no job, and no home. But she does have a broken hand, and several scars on her body, courtesy of her abusive ex-boyfriend, who is now in jail.
At 26, Natalie has never had a place to call home. Nor have her two children. She is unsure who their fathers are. She is homeless, as were her parents, now both deceased. She had sporadic schooling through about ninth grade - she thinks - and spent the last four years in and out of drug rehab, while her kids were in foster homes.
No, this is not Philadelphia, Trenton, or Allentown. It is Milford Square, where the pastoral countryside obscures, but can't prevent, the same homelessness, poverty, and hunger that permeates the urban concrete canyons. But unlike those cities, where the most visible of the displaced are older men and women, 99 percent of the homeless in Bucks County are families. Most are single mothers with children, with half of the kids under the age of 12.
While our homeless may be invisible, their tragedy is all too real. Lives are devastated. Victims are disconnected from society. Bucks is among the wealthiest counties in the state, yet there are between 800-1000 homeless people, not including hundreds living on the street, or sharing overcrowded housing with friends or relatives. I didn't know it, and I'll bet you didn't either.
The Bucks County Housing Group, a non-profit organization that has provided housing and social services to the homeless, and low-income families, since 1980, cites domestic violence, inadequate education, minimum-wage jobs, mental health issues, and substance abuse as contributing factors. But the primary cause is simple - lack of area housing that very-low-income people can afford. Minimum wage, less than $15,000 per year, would sustain a rent of no more than $375 per month. Fair Market Rent for a two-bedroom unit is $871, and $548 for one bedroom. Even families receiving county temporary assistance grants, or Supplemental Security Income (SSI), fall short.
The cities have low-rent places you probably have never been, let alone called home. Places where the poor can at least raise a family. The Projects. Section Eight housing. But not in Upper Bucks. Not for Rebecca, and her kids Thomas and Evelyn. Nor for Maryanne, Jamie, Jordan, and Jenny. Like you, they go to the mall, or the playground. But they can't go home. For them, home must be where the heart is, because they don't have much more.
Sadia, a high-school dropout, never imagined herself as homeless, or "poor". Even after losing her minimum-wage job, she and her infant son shared a small apartment with a friend. But after exhausting unemployment benefits while unsuccessfully searching for something new, she couldn't pay the rent, and had no idea what to do. She sold some things, then had to move out.
Sarah, Natalie, Rebecca, Maryanne, Sadia, (not their real names) and their kids were placed in the Milford shelter by county social service agencies. It is one of four Bucks facilities operated by BCHG. There is a six-month waiting list for the cheery Victorian home, decorated with bright murals painted by local students. They will stay for about 3-4 months. Like most homeless, they arrive with minimal education, minimal skills, and no ability to afford local housing. But living in the area allows the only stability left to them - family and friends, who may have little themselves.
BCHG provides shelter, food, and social services, with the goal of making the families self-sufficient. Initially, most of the women have no clue where, and how, to find help. "They come here, but they just don't know", says volunteer coordinator Karen Jenei. "A lot of these people are just in survival mode. We provide them with the tools and programs to get themselves back on their feet, but it is then up to them to make it work".
Those tools include basics, like how to get food stamps, health care, transportation, student financial aid, or even a GED diploma. Often these make the difference between homelessness and a real life. One woman is studying for a driver's license, and is on the list for a donated car from the Wheelz2Work program, so she can start in Bucks County Community College's hotel/motel program in January. A 24-year old with three children, who came to Milford several years ago from a drug abuse program, is a model for success. The shelter's caseworker found day care for the kids, and transportation for her to BCCC. She is now at Temple University getting a Masters Degree in social work.
Unfortunately, there is no magic formula to the shelter's mission. Less than half of the women who leave are able to remain in even a low-rent apartment, or take care of their families. Some return. Many just move on to another town, and another shelter. No job, and no education for the children. This has spawned a poverty-like cyclical dilemma - homeless parents raise kids who only know homelessness, and stay that way themselves.
The Milford facility also operates a small food pantry. But it is a sign of the times that visitors have doubled from 63 in July to 125 in November, as the economy declines, and gas prices rise. The situation threatens to get much worse, because the Quakertown food pantry, which serves over 1100 people every month, will soon lose its building when the County Services Center on Route 309 is replaced by the new complex in Richland.
Although the Milford shelter is funded by county and government agencies, it is also dependent on the generosity and support of the community. Cash, gift cards, and food are always in short supply. But clothing, toys or furniture are needed only when a family is moving to their own place. Jenei asks that potential donors call the office at 215-538-9383. Don't you dare look away.