SOUND: Walking through a house under repair
James Remington knows all about covering up. As a plaster and painting craftsman, he can repair cracked walls, hide ceiling holes, and smooth over other defects in old houses. And there's plenty of work to do on this place that he's house-sitting for a friend. It's pretty much a mess, except for a special room upstairs that Remington has fixed up for his daughter. Stepping over a clump of tools, he opens a door, just off the landing.
JAMES REMINGTON: This looks like home --- the way my house used to be.
The 8-year-old's room is painted pink and decorated with a Hanna Montana poster…and a collage of family photos on the wall. These snapshots show a happier time --- before his previous home in the suburbs went into foreclosure... before his wife left him... before work in the construction trades dried up. Until things turn around economically, his daughter lives with her grandparents. But Remington gets to see her on the weekends, and that's when his skills as a cover-up artist are truly put to the test.
JAMES REMINGTON: When I get my daughter, I have to put on a mask and make everything okay. No matter how much self-pity I'm feeling for myself, or how down I am, I have to make it right for her.
Remington is part of a growing class of Ohioans who are...for the first time in their lives... now classified as poor. The Greater Cleveland Salvation Army's Karen Brauer says she's seen a spike in such people over the past year.
KAREN BRAUER: We're showing a 35% increase in new clients coming in for assistance.
Of the 60,000 people that the local Salvation Army serves each year, 15,000 are first-time clients who come for food or some other sort of social service. Brauer says it's easy to spot the first timers.
KAREN BRAUER: They're nervous, they're embarrassed. The first thing out of their mouth is "I've never had to do this before. I can't believe I'm sitting here. I can't believe I'm actually here."
The Salvation Army itself is doing more with less, these days. The organization's annual budget of $15 million is down from $19 million, a couple years ago. Still, once a month, clients can pick-up a three-day emergency supply of food that can help a family bridge a gap between public assistance checks. People can also get help in making utility bill payments. Last month, James Remington paid his first visit to a center on Cleveland's Westside. He says he had hit bottom and was surviving on chocolate milk.
JAMES REMINGTON: So, I went there, and they gave me a big bag of oats, and spaghetti-os and spaghetti sauce --- and it was a humbling experience, because I'd never done that before. No one in my family has ever had to reach out and ask someone for food.
As a self-employed contractor, he's not eligible for unemployment, so he picks up odd jobs where he can. Sitting on his back porch, Remington offers a dog biscuit to a big old chocolate Labrador named Scooby, who waddles up to get the treat. There's a sizable tumor growing out of Scooby's side, but that operation will have to wait --- another expense to put on the back burner. The experience has changed him. For one thing, he's got a different view of poor people, now.
JAMES REMINGTON: I'm going to be honest with you. I would look at it as, "They should be working. Why are they getting food for free?" I would think, anybody can find a job. But, that's not true. That's not true.
The Salvation Army's Karen Brauer says the "newly poor" are closer than we think.
KAREN BRAUER: They can be the person living next door to you, or across the street. They can be the person sitting on the church bench, along side of you. Poverty is reaching out, and it's all around us.
