Need for food aid grows in state

from The Detroit Free Press

Government help up 53% since '03

BY CHRIS CHRISTOFF

Mike Remenar never thought he'd rely on food stamps and Medicaid to help support his family in comfortable Grosse Pointe Woods.

He hasn't found suitable work since losing his job 10 months ago as an auto parts designer. He depleted his unemployment benefits and savings, struggles under a $1,400 monthly mortgage, and the travel agency he and his wife operate at home won't pay the bills.

"In the past 10 years, I've been laid off a number of times, but never this long," said Remenar, 60. "Especially living in this community, to be in this position is a bit awkward."

Remenar's unexpected dive into public assistance is a testament to the depth of stagnation for Michigan's economy. A record number of Michiganders are using government food stamps -- 1.26 million in 590,600 households during March, according to the Michigan Department of Human Services. Three in every 10 of the households -- 174,200 -- are in Wayne County. Genesee County ranks second with 38,179 households getting aid, followed by Oakland with 34,060, Kent with 32,564 and Macomb with 31,718.

Since 2003, the number of Michigan households receiving food stamps leaped 53%, the third biggest increase behind Massachusetts at 77% and Iowa at 63%. One in five Michigan children under age 18 is in a household qualifying for food stamps. (Nationwide, 27.7 million people received food stamps in January.)

It's not known how many Michiganders are first-timers for food assistance. Or how many live in neighborhoods where a Bridge Card seems out of place.

Families making do

Remenar said he worked for 30 years as a designer for various auto parts makers. He said using a Bridge Card the first time seemed strange.

"You do what you have to do," he said.

He said the Medicaid prescription drug program helps cover the costs of his family's ongoing medications. Remenar and his wife, Ruth, have sons ages 10, 14 and 17.

They've lived in their Grosse Pointe Woods home 14 years. Remenar said it would be difficult to sell his house. Homes in his neighborhood have been listed as long as three years, he said, and there have been several nearby foreclosed homes.

Besides a small income from his travel agency, Remenar makes about $250 a week delivering newspapers. He said his wife, formerly a paralegal, also is seeking work.

He's willing to relocate to another state or country, accept a smaller salary than he earned before his last layoff and, if needed, be a weekend commuter. He wants his children to remain in Grosse Pointe schools.

In the meantime, he has applied for jobs at Lowe's, Home Depot, Starbucks and Caribou Coffee.

"I have confidence we'll work things out and stay afloat," he said. "My wife is upset; she's very concerned about it."

Michigan's economic duress is more widespread than in past recessions, said Gerry Brisson, vice president for development at Gleaners Food Bank, which supplies 400 food aid agencies.

"The big difference now is the number of people in suburbs who are feeling it," Brisson said. "Poverty in the city has been bad for a long time, but poverty in the suburbs is going up in Livingston, Oakland and Macomb counties."

Embarrassing necessity for some

Bridge Card recipients often seek local food donations because the card won't buy enough for most families, he said. The average bridge card allowance per person is about $100 per month -- about $500 for a family of five.

John Frida, store manager at Value Center supermarket in Livonia, said there are more Bridge Card users, but added that it's partly because of the closures of Farmer Jack supermarkets in the area.

For Angelia Moncrief, 31, a single mother who lives on the west side of Detroit, food stamps and Medicaid health insurance became an embarrassing necessity when she lost her $38,000 office manager job at Oakwood Hospital in Dearborn last September.

"Where I came from, not having to depend on anybody -- the system, my mama, my brothers, my boyfriend -- and now I have to use the Bridge Card," Moncrief said. "Now, everyone is looking at me when I pull it out. They think, 'She's doing nothing, she's on welfare, she's poor.' That's what the looks say."

Moncrief and her 12-year-old son moved in with her mother. She had been on welfare once before, and thought she had climbed into self-sufficiency with five years of full-time work. She said she's studying online for a degree in human resources.