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Live United by Erin Haag

Growing up, I didn’t see a whole lot of my extended family on my father’s side. As an adult though, when I started making the drive from Minnesota to Kansas with two little ones in tow, I’d stop at my uncle’s home in Kansas City. Through those stops, I’ve gotten to be pretty close with my uncle. My children have strong memories of their visits, giving them cousins and more.

My daddy’s been gone for 15 years now. My uncle was a decade older than him and is a natural storyteller. It’s amazing to me the detail he can remember in his stories, and we’ve spent many an evening sitting around the table listening to the stories. I soak up the stories I never knew about my father. My daddy was the youngest of  five children in Goodland, Kansas, population of about a thousand back then. Today it’s a population of about a whopping 5,000. The children were born between 1924 and 1944.

I think about those dates a lot when I think about my father’s history. While he wasn’t born during the Dust Bowl Years, the Great Depression, his brothers, sister and parents certainly were. Then consider that the 1940s were the war years — there was no shortage of hard times.

My uncle tells a story about going to college for the first time. He described in detail the room he rented with a few of his buddies. He signed up for a sociology class and went to class. The lecture was on poverty that day, and he came home and asked his buddies, “did you know we were poor?” I remember clearly him looking at me, in his 80s, and telling me, “I had no idea I was poor!”

It’s interesting to think about. I wonder why he didn’t know growing up? Make no mistake, it’s not hallmark of those times, because there was plenty of stigma around poverty in those decades. That’s something that isn’t new to society today. My uncle wasn’t oblivious. Was it the small town? Was everyone in the same boat?

What would our lives be if we didn’t know we were poor?

My children go along with me for many things related to my job. My son has held my hand while I stood in a parking lot directing traffic for pop-up pantries. My daughter writes thank you cards for donors. On rainy weekend days, when we need out of the house, they build forts in the conference room while I file papers.

One such time was going down to Loaves & Fishes. Mary and Bill have become good friends and love on my children. The evening meal was my children’s favorite — spaghetti. Mary asked my son, who was probably 4 at the time, if he wanted to eat spaghetti. He told her, “but we’re not poor.” Mary of course laughed and laughed and asked him, “Are you hungry.” He said yes of course, and so she fixed him a plate and sat him right down next to her.

I remember wondering where my son learned the word, “poor.” Because it’s not a word we use in our house. More and more, we know that families are experiencing food insecurity despite the fact that they have both parents working in the home. We know that many families earn enough money to not qualify for benefits, but still struggle to make it. So “poor” isn’t a good descriptor anymore, and I’ve never used that term. When I stopped and considered what words I use for my children, what comes up the most is the word “sharing.” We “share” our money, we “share” our food, we “share” our time and our talents for those who need it. 

Why did my 4-year-old son know “poor,” and my uncle didn’t learn it until college? Is it a good thing or a bad thing to be so consciously aware of that? I don’t have the answers here, but it’s something to ponder, along with the fate of the world and the reason for being.

You might think I’m working up to advocate that we get rid of classifying anyone as in poverty. Would it surprise you to learn that I’m not? I think it’s important to have those identifiers, so we understand how wide the gap is. It’s equally important to make sure that’s not an identity where there’s all you see of a person.

What I am moving toward is the idea of giving without barriers. Can we remove the barriers to providing what our community needs? Do we have to make someone prove every single time that they “qualify?” Can a person just simply say, “I’m hungry” and be fed. “I’m cold” and be given a blanket.

The classic argument is that people will take advantage. It happens. It’s a hard balance between making sure we’re not asking too much of people who just need help, and making sure that we’re not enabling. Until that perfect solution comes up, I’ve decided to err on the side of helping, so that no one is left behind by mistake.

Giving without barriers. Giving without judgement. That’s how you build a community and care — for a community. For more information on how to give — in any form — call our office at 507-373-8670.

Erin Haag is the executive director of the United Way of Freeborn County.