Housing in Rural America

and an update on Failing As a Neighbor

A few weeks ago I wrote about failing as a neighbor - or feeling like I had - when I was unable to connect with Paul who lives across the alley from us. Well, good news! He rolled by last week and called out a big hello as we were eating dinner in our back yard. We had a good chat over our fence and another neighbor joined in as well. This time I got his phone number and his email (he just bought his first computer and this is the first time he’s had email, pretty exciting). He says he’s doing great and he certainly looks that way. The following day I spoke with his home health aid, as we were both outside at the same time, and she confirmed this. Paul is the best he’s been in a very long time. My heart is greatly relieved.

Yesterday I saw Paul again and asked if he thought his new style looked anything like Dr. John (I had sent him a photo and some background on this legendary musician). He laughed and said yes. And that’s how I finally got the photo below.

Dr. John and my neighbor, Paul

What do YOU think?

Further highlighting the similarities, we shared some gumbo with him, home-made with chicken and andoille sausage. When asked if he liked it he said yes, it was great, but then he had also added some shrimp for more flavor! (Dr. John would approve ;)

Paul is fortunate to have a home health worker and to live in a small town where he can get around on his scooter, weather permitting. Not everyone has these resources.

Approximately 20% of Americans live in rural areas, meaning counties with a population of 50,000 or less. Currently, I live in a county of about 23,000 people. This includes the famous ski resort, Sun Valley, as well as five other towns. My town has about 2,500 residents, which is certainly an increase from the 250 that lived here fifty years ago.

This is where I work, in rural America. As a Census Field Rep, I drive up to 200 miles in a day through four counties, the smallest of which has only 1,200 residents and the largest has 25,000.

I meet a lot of great people. Really great people. I also meet folks who are rude and grossly uninformed. But I met those folks in Tulsa too.

The other day, I met Mike (not his real name) and I can’t stop thinking about him.

Mike lives in a small four-room house on four acres of land. When I knocked on his door, he was so agitated that he was barely coherent. Best as I can tell, he’s lived there maybe twenty years.

Mike believes he purchased his home from the owner who lives down the road. He has paper receipts of amounts he has paid. He figures he paid $90,000, which is more than the $80k it was worth when they made a verbal agreement. Only problem: he never got that in writing and he doesn’t have the deed.

After his wife died four years ago, the “landowner” (for lack of a better word) started asking for rent. Mike contacted Idaho Legal Aid. And this is where I got confused by his story. Apparently the landowner was supposed to turn over the deed, but never did and Mike never followed through. Things were quiet and Mike went about his life trying to make ends meet and carry on alone. Until last month, when he was served an eviction notice.

https://evictionlab.org/eviction-tracking/ this doesn’t seem to track rural places, however

I knocked on Mike’s door because his address was scientifically selected for participation in the Current Population Survey (poorly named as it’s really all about labor statistics). Every month when you hear that employment is up (or down), more jobs have been created (or lost), etc., that information is coming from this survey. To best track the labor market trends, folks are asked to participate for four months in a row. Then, after eight months with no contact from the Census, we return and ask them to participate for another four months. (There are always new addresses each month, as well as the old ones, so there is never a break in the data.)

Mike, it turns out, doesn’t have a job. He sold his business a few years ago when his wife was sick and he needed to take care of her. He receives no assistance from public aid or nonprofits - he feels he isn’t that needy and doesn’t want to take away from others who are worse off than he. Instead, he sells things from his house and off his property. He tries to pick up odd jobs here and there when he can.

a Google map photo of Mike’s property

I wouldn’t have learned all this if I hadn’t stuck around. It was tempting to leave, especially when Legal Aid called him back. But he asked me to stay and it’s good that I did. Legal Aid would likely have hung up on him. Emotionally distraught, he kept talking in circles and not answering the questions. I was able to get him to focus and to get the info needed to schedule an appointment with one of their attorneys. That information included providing a current estimated worth of the property, (I referenced Zillow), as well an estimated worth of everything he owned. (How much is a car worth when it doesn’t run?) Then, after the lengthy Legal Aid call, I set up email on his phone so he could send them photos of everything he had concerning his case. They kept asking for faxed copies. How many folks still have a fax machine? Especially someone who needs legal aid? And he couldn’t just drive to meet them in person as the nearest Legal Aid office is over two hours away from where he lives.

Legal Aid in Idaho, as in every state, wants to help people like Mike, but sometimes they can’t. They are over-worked and under-funded. If the potential client doesn’t have the skill to articulate their need or the resources to provide evidence there’s not much they can do. For people like Mike, an additional advocate is needed. Luckily, I arrived at the right time and was able to help. Whether I did enough, however, I don’t know.

I’m hoping Mike is still there when I return in two weeks. I’m hoping Legal Aid is representing him and he wasn’t evicted. I’m worried, just like I was with my neighbor, but this time though, I know I didn’t fail. I did what I could. And then I started praying.