Food pantries: A lifeline for the working poor, disabled

I heard that 53,000 people are helped each month by the Rhode Island Community Food Bank, so I stopped by one of its pantries to find out who they are.

Soon, Tina Santana, 29, walked in.

She’s not what I expected.

Tina has a decent job at a phone store in Warwick.

But her kids are 10 and 4, and she’s their sole support. The bills at times leave her short, so she comes here.

The pantry is across the street from the Providence Place mall, inside the Gloria Dei Lutheran Church.

It’s run by “Better Lives Rhode Island” out of a storage room stocked with groceries.

Those in need are allowed to fill a few bags there twice a month.

Tina did so, and then was kind enough to sit down and chat.

She told me she and her kids share a $1,000-a-month apartment in Washington Park. Then there are utilities, car insurance, health and dental.

Oh, and education. She recently switched her daughter from the public schools to Bishop McVinney Catholic School — another bill, but worth it.

“She’s learning now,” said Tina, who’s trying to save for their college.

She attended the Community College of Rhode Island for a year, but can’t afford to continue.

Maybe later, she says.

A few months ago, Tina married a gentleman from the Dominican Republic who is awaiting work papers. When those come through, her family will have more means.

Until then, she said, her once- or twice-a-month visits here mean her kids will have good food during lean weeks.

The “Better Lives Rhode Island” pantry is among the biggest of the 168 supplied by the Food Bank. It is open Mondays noon-4 p.m. and Tuesdays through Fridays 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. It serves thousands of people each month, often with dozens lined up at opening.

There was a cold rain the day I visited, but newcomers were steady.

One was Jay Carnavale.

He wore jeans, a dark coat and Nike hat. He told me he worked for years as a cab driver, then for a uniform company. “I picked up the dirties and delivered the cleans.”

Jay’s last job was at a seafood distributor.

“If you ever bought a crab cake from Whole Foods,” he said, “I made it.”

But when that job ended, Jay, who’d been barely keeping up, found himself homeless. By then, he was unable to work because of his health.

“I have COPD,” he said, “and my knee is gone.” His back, too.

But he got disability, and now has a $579 subsidized apartment near the YMCA, in a building that houses dozens of folks like him.

“I love it,” Jay said. “I’m not carrying my whole world around in backpacks.”

Although 59, he described himself as an old man.

“I’ve got a lot of miles on me.”

Jay never married, but smiled and said he had a good Labrador retriever named Ralph for 18 years.

His disability payments are high enough to disqualify him for food stamps, so he comes here a few times a month.

“It makes a difference,” said Jay, “absolutely.”

He left pulling a cart, headed for a bus home.

Juana De Las Nueces was dressed nicely in a dark coat, sweater and wool hat. Her nails were painted pink, one of them accented with sparkles.

She’s 64 and lives alone.

Juana came here from the Dominican Republic 40 years ago, and did factory work, but is now on Supplemental Security Income due to depression and dizziness.

She gets $700 a month, and another $194 in food stamps, and pays $500 in rent.

I asked if she has family.

She said she lost a son 10 years ago.

“They killed him,” she said softly. “They shot him.”

Juana paused and wiped away a tear.

She had a few bags at her side with chicken, ham, black beans, tuna, plums, apples and vegetables.

The pantry, she said, helps her eat healthily, and she’s grateful to have it.

I spoke with one more visitor, and wasn’t surprised that she, too, was among the working poor. The Food Bank told me it’s the case with two-thirds of the households they serve.

She was a slim, attractive 23-year-old and asked that I just call her Marie. She’s worried she’d be stigmatized for needing help.

“People look down on people who ask for assistance,” Marie said. “You’re trying your hardest, though.”

Marie works delivering pizzas, often from 4 p.m. until 4 a.m. to allow time for her children.

“It’s like a waitress,” said Marie. “You rely on other people for tips, and it’s hit or miss.”

But yesterday, she added, someone gave her $12.

“That was a good experience.”

She shops at thrift stores like Savers, and has two kids, ages 4 and 2, whom she supports alone. Her mother lives in Fall River and looks after them when Marie’s working.

“My mom would give me 10 bucks if she had it, but sometimes people don’t have it.”

As for her dad, she doesn’t know him.

Marie has faith she’ll get ahead soon.

“You don’t give up,” she said.

But it’s hard right now.

“You just sometimes need that extra help.”

At that, she gathered her food bags and headed outside, into the rain, passing other visitors coming in.

Mark Patinkin’s columns run Sundays and Wednesdays

— mpatinki@providencejournal.com

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