Collette Gardner came to our office looking for help.
Recovering from pneumonia, wracked with excruciating pain from a deteriorating jawbone, her wet eyes and tremulous voice betrayed the sinking despair of a woman skirting the edge for too long. Having exhausted her disability insurance, she was $1,548 short of the amount it would take to cover a bone graft operation in the oral surgery department of the University of California, San Francisco. She and her husband were doing everything they could to scratch together the remainder. She was making and selling baskets, while her husband, an unemployed construction site superintendent, was looking for handyman work and odd jobs. They came to the Ledger Dispatch seeking our help. Aside from a discounted classified ad and advising them to reach out through their local church, I felt like we were ill-equipped to respond.
We're like the Watchers in the old Fantastic Four comic books. We observe and chronicle without intervening in the affairs of others. Unlike those large-headed aliens, we share this information and normally that's enough - people read about what's happening in their community and react accordingly. That particular day, it felt like way too little.
Then I recalled a column publisher Jack Mitchell wrote some months back about the Amador Community Foundation's new emergency-crisis assistance fund, which the foundation created to assist county residents faced with an immediate inability to meet the basic necessities. The use of funds, which ordinarily top off at $500 per grant, can apply to life-altering situations like an accident or tragedy, one-time rent or mortgage payment or, in Collette's case, a severe illness or sudden medical need.
Collette was grateful for the referral. I was grateful to foundation Executive Director Shannon Lowery and her board for providing the help I couldn't. After all, good news is becoming an even rarer commodity than low-interest bank loans these days.
Lowery said the foundation's board was leaning toward granting Collette's full $1,500 request. And while the foundation had received only a handful of applications for emergency funds when I spoke to Lowery two weeks ago, she was expecting more to flood in during the holidays. Without continued donations, Lowery made it clear the emergency fund would dry up quickly. "If we keep granting at this level without replenishing the fund, it won't last long," she said. Donations can be mailed to PO Box 1154, Jackson, CA 95642. Call 223-2148 for more information.
Meanwhile, a separate foundation fund called Crisis Assistance for Rancheria Employee fund, or CARE, Lowery said, was "the one that's flooding."
The foundation had been averaging 10 requests a week from scrambling Jackson Rancheria employees, many of them seeking funds to keep basic utilities running, like heat and gas. Established in 2006, the CARE fund provides Rancheria employees and their immediate families with short-term financial assistance during unexpected hardships and emergencies. Approved applicants can get up to $400 per calendar year.
The fund was being taxed in recent months by Rancheria employees whose hours had been cut due to the extensive remodeling at the Jackson casino. On Tuesday, the Associated Press reported that the president and chief executive of the American Gaming Association said smaller casino operators nationwide are less likely to survive than their larger, also troubled counterparts. The same day I looked into the CARE fund, I noted with some bitter amusement that an e-mail graced my inbox with the announcement of a Stockton mail carrier turning a slot machine nickel into a half-million dollar jackpot at the Jackson Casino. At least someone's getting lucky in this snake eyes economy, which, incidentally, hasn't completely crapped out. Not yet.
Interestingly enough, Collette's personal story unfolded as the Ledger Dispatch received its annual health benefits visit from corporate. Despite being eligible for what two separate insurance sales associates called some of the more respectable packages they've seen, they acknowledged that rising health care costs were taking their toll. Colleen was unable to get the care she needed through either Medi-Cal or military health insurance. Employees at Sutter Amador Hospital have bemoaned how little Medicare provides to its customers.
As inadequate as many health insurance policies have become, not having insurance is an even more terrifying prospect. That sickening sound you hear is the grind of a nation full of jawbones contracting.
| Raheem Hosseini |