One in four rural residents under the age of 18 lives in poverty, according to a new study from the USDA Economic Research Service. The figure is even higher in counties that depend on manufacturing jobs, which eroded during the Great Recession.
USDA Economic Research ServiceHigh-poverty counties were prevalent in the South but varied widely across the United States.
The rural child poverty rate grew by more than a third during the past decade, according to a new report from the USDA Economic Research Service.
One in four rural children lived in poverty in 2009-2013, according to the 2013 American Community Survey. That’s up from one in five rural children in 1999.
During the same period, the metropolitan child-poverty rate grew at a slightly lower rate of 31 percent. About one in every five metropolitan residents under the age of 18 lives in poverty, the report said.
The increase in the rural child-poverty rate was not consistent across the country, however. Some counties got hit a lot harder than others.
“The problem of high and rising rural child poverty has been widespread but not pandemic across rural areas,” writes ERS Senior Economist David McGranahan in the analysis released this week in the ERS magazine, Amber Waves.
The percentage of poor children was greatest in counties that depended on manufacturing jobs, compared to other counties where agriculture, mining, or recreation dominated the economy.
In rural manufacturing counties, child poverty climbed by 45 percent from 1999 to 2009-2013. During the same period, roughly one in four rural manufacturing jobs disappeared, according to the report.
In contrast, agriculture-dependent rural counties saw an increase of about 6 percent in child poverty. Child poverty increased by about 5 percent in rural counties that depend heavily on the recreation industry.
In mining counties -- which include the oil and gas industries that boomed during the period of the study -- child poverty also grew by about 5 percent.
And counties that don’t fall into one of the other economic categories saw a child-poverty increase of 22 percent.
Shaena Mallett is a photographer and filmmaker based in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Four years ago she started shooting a film about the Nolan familly and their small dairy farm in Southeast Ohio, Laurel Valley Creamery. Last week she launched a Kickstarter campaign and quickly reached her initial goal to pay for editing the film. We talked to her about making the documentary and why she thinks its message is important.
Daily Yonder: Describe the movie for us.
Shaena Mallett : [It’s] a documentary film that I've been working on for four years and it's a really intimate look at one family and their experience surviving as a family farm in a rural food desert.
It revolves around the characters. One of the main characters is the father of the family [Nick]. I describe him as a farmer/philosopher. He is just a very wise, well-spoken character who will go about his day very quietly, milking the cows and working out in the field and then just sit and look off into the distance and then just drop deep wisdom about farming and life and legacy. He's just a really philosophical character. The other main character, Celeste, is the mother of the family. She is really down to earth, very soulful, hard working person and just a really wonderful mother and cheese maker.
They're a multi-generational family farm. And Nick grew up on the farm. It was his grandfather's. His grandfather bought it in 1947. Nick grew up right next door to the farm on the end of a dead-end dirt road and dreamt of a life far away and the great world out there. He eventually got into working as an engineer in a food manufacturing plant and worked in corporate food for many years, throughout all of his 20s, and he ended up moving away to Florida. He was the person who helped work on the machines that made Totinos pizza rolls and convenient frozen entrées. He was still working in food, but as far away from the family farm style of producing food as you can get.
A scene from Laurel Valley Creamery, a family dairy farm featured in the documentary "Farmsteaders."
His grandfather died in a farming accident and Nick, over the coming years, had a major transition and ended up taking over the family farm. He was laid-off from his job, so he took his severance package and invested it all in a herd of dairy cows and decided to go back to what he knew and what he did in childhood. They invested in cows and decided that's what they were going to do. Everyone told them not to do it. The people buying the milk told them not to do it, grandma told them not to do it, the people who sold them the cows told them not to do it. ... But they did it anyway. They worked for several years just selling milk and trying to bring in all of their income from selling milk and just couldn't make it, which is a really common story for a lot of small-scale dairy farms in the U.S. right now.
Now they take all the milk they produce and 100% of the milk goes into making farmstead cheese. "Farmstead" meaning all the milk comes from the farm and all the milk goes into the cheese and it's all made right on the farm. They've been doing that since 2010 and they finally are starting to rise up out of the initial costs of starting that. They're finally starting see the light of day financially by making cheese.
DY: Why do you think they went against all that advice and start buying cows?
SM: That's a question a lot of people ask a lot of dairy farmers these days, because it really seems like an impossible struggle to make it in small-scale dairy. I've heard several reasons from the Nolans. One of them, I think, taps into legacy. It's what Nick grew up doing, it's what he grew up loving, and really knowing, and I think it helps Nick feel very connected to his family, connected to his grandfather, who was one of the closest people in his life, by continuing on that family tradition. I also know that Nick really likes working with the animals. …There's just something about working in a very reciprocal relationship with animals. Opposed to making all the income, let's say, selling meat (Ed. Note: They do sell some meat). But something like that, the relationship with the animal has a finite end, and you're raising animals to slaughter and that's the end of the story. Whereas, for milk, the way that they raise the cows, they raise most of the cows from calf. The cows are on the farm from the day they're born till they day they die and they have many years of working together. They really get to know the animal and it's much more of a symbiotic relationship. I think there's something about that that's really appealing to the Nolins and to some other sustainable dairy famers.
Fighting prairie winds and U.S. politics, the New Deal created the Prairie States Shelterbelt, which stretched from North Dakota to Texas. The project helped stabilize soil and rejuvenate farm communities that had suffered through the Dust Bowl.
Photo courtesy Rick Kochenower, Oklahoma Panhandle Research and Extension Center A dust storm approaches Cimarron County in the Oklahoma Panhandle on January 12, 2014. Drought, plus the deterioration of the Prairie States Shelterbelt, created in the 1930s, are contributing to the storms, which have been compared to the Dust Bowl.
Franklin D. Roosevelt was a tree hugger.
After his father, James, died in December, 1900, the future president began to manage his Hyde Park, New York, family estate with conservation in mind. To counter soil erosion, he planted thousands of trees each year.
Later, as president, FDR used conservation projects as a job-creation tool against the Great Depression. His ambitious plan for forest shelterbelts—windbreaks using trees and shrubs across the Great Plains to reduce soil wind erosion, retain moisture, and improve farming—offers a backstory about a gift that is widely forgotten and being destroyed.
When FDR came to office in 1933, the Great Plains and other regions were already smarting from droughts in 1929 and the early 1930s; the Dust Bowl began in earnest in 1934. The environmental disaster was triggered by policies and markets that promoted massive, unsustainable agricultural expansion in dry lands. Weak farm markets, coupled with the droughts, had caused a crisis for President Herbert Hoover as he tried to mitigate the growing Depression that started in 1929.
FDR began discussing what would become the Plains Shelterbelt Project within weeks of taking office in March, 1933. The idea grew from his experience and federal research that dated to about the 1890s. Passage of the Clarke-McNary Act in 1924 enshrined shelterbelts in forest policy.
Shelterbelts were used the U.S. during the early 1800s and were common in Canada and Russia. According to Agriculture Secretary Arthur M. Hyde’s report to Hoover in 1933, the department cooperated with 37 states and two territories in producing and distributing trees to farm owners for reforestation of farm woodlands and for windbreak and shelterbelt planting.
Roosevelt’s documents show he initially was deeply involved in planning his proposal, along with his secretary of Agriculture, Henry A. Wallace. In a March 1935 letter to Senator Duncan U. Fletcher (D-Florida), FDR notes that shelterbelts were a “subject near to my heart,” and outlines the complicated steps of the plan:
With the 70th anniversary of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki approaching, the U.S. is wondering what to do with the plutonium it no longer needs for nuclear weapons. The U.S. Department of Energy would like to convert it for use in nuclear power plants. Other folks aren’t so sure about that proposal.
DOE Workers at the Idaho National Laboratory move a drum toward a compactor in this photo uploaded by the Department of Energy in June 2015.
Sitting as I do in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, I view a proposal to convert weapons-grade plutonium into fuel for nuclear power plants as a sobering proposition.
We’re directly between South Carolina’s Savannah River nuclear reservation, where some of that plutonium is stored, and nuclear power plants in Tennessee and Alabama, where the fuel could be used.
“Using plutonium from weapons, there would be a regular traffic of plutonium oxide from dismantlement and storage sites to fabrication facilities and reactors, with the risk of attack along transportation routes,” said Lou Zeller of the Blue Ridge Environmental Defense League.
“The cost estimate for construction of the plutonium fuel plant at Savannah River Site has soared from $1.8 billion in 2004 to $7.7 billion in April 2013,” said Tom Clement of Friends of the Earth.
“When we’re dealing with something as fraught with danger as weapons plutonium, there’s no margin for error,” said Ralph Hutchison of Oak Ridge Environmental Peace Alliance.
“We are taking plutonium out of warheads that were pointed across the world and we’re moving it. The problem is we need to make sure it’s put in a secure form and in a secure place,” said Gretel Johnson of Mothers against Tennessee River Radiation.
Would TVA Use Converted Nuclear Fuel? The big thing in nuclear right now is the environmental impact statement released by DOE in May. Oh, it’s big all right -- five volumes, 495 pages, 12 pounds. The testimonies above are in its “Comment Response” volumes and it’s very thorough.
This is the latest size-up whether disposal of plutonium from warheads can comply with the National Environmental Policy Act. The DOE states generally in its Federal Register posting that its goal is to “dispose of U.S. surplus, weapons-usable plutonium in a safe, secure and environmentally sound manner, by converting such plutonium into proliferation-resistant forms that can never again be readily used in nuclear weapons.”
In 2013, twenty-six-year-old Cody Weber began exploring his family history by photographing in and around his hometown of Keokuk, Iowa. This sparked his ambitious project Forgotten Iowa, for which Weber plans to photograph all of Iowa’s 947 official and unincorporated towns. We talked to Weber about what the process has been like so far, and why he’s so drawn to his home state.
All photos by Cody WeberCantril, Iowa, at an Amish grocery store. Population: 222
Daily Yonder: Where did you grow up? Tell us a little bit about your background. Cody Weber: I grew up in Keokuk, Iowa. It's a small river town in Southeast Iowa. The people there are as friendly as the architecture is worn. Despite its pratfalls, the community is very warm and inviting, and I take a lot of pride in being an Iowan, but even more specifically as a Keokukian. I grew up the same way that most of my peers in the community did, whether it was riding bikes throughout town or fishing on the coast of the Mississippi river. Keokuk is a great place to wander, to get lost, and it's not hard to spend entire days doing just that.
Milton, Iowa. A 96 year-old shop owner poses for a frame in front of his garage. Population: 443
DY: When did you first start taking pictures? CW: I've been photographing my life almost every single day since the day I turned fifteen. I'm twenty-six now, so I guess that's a little more than a decade. It's strange to go back and look at events as they unfolded in retrospect. There are entire months that my brain really doesn't even really remember, but the photo evidence is still there. I really believe that, as egotistical as it is, it's helped shape me and become all the more self-aware. As of today, I have taken over 2.5 million photos...and I've deleted nothing.
In fact, the longest break I have ever taken is five days in late 2008 when I had pneumonia.
A blind stray cat looks for scraps of food in Rome, Iowa as the sun sets in front of him. Population: 117
DY: After years of traveling, you’re back in Iowa taking pictures. Why did you decide to head back to Iowa? How long do you plan to stay? CW: Southeast Iowa is my safe place. It's where my entire family resides, where most of my friends live, and where I feel the most at home. Every time I've ventured to other cities, I always find myself longing for a slower existence. Cities are overwhelming to me. Everybody has somewhere to be, all the time, and almost without exception. There's no time to just stop and converse with a total stranger. That couldn't be any further from reality in small-town USA. I love that I can bump into somebody that I don't even know and end up learning a lot about them. I am a small-town kid just by my very nature, and it's become obvious to me that you can take the boy out of the town but you can't take the town out of the boy. It took a long time to accept that reality, and I actually envied the kids of inner-cities who seemed to take on the sprawl of a cityscape as part of their routine. I've spent entire years of my life in cities and I've never once been able to do that. I get overwhelmed too easily. I miss seeing stars. It's the little things.
So, I suppose the question is never “How long do I plan to stay?” as much as it's, “How long do you plan to stay away?” No matter where I end up, a large part of my heart belongs to Keokuk. It always will. And though I'm absolutely aware of the mountains that the community has to climb, I still associate my mentalities with it. Everything I think, whether it's my political or ideological stances, stemmed from that community. It was birthed through those experiences and those people. There is no shortage of love that I have for my community. Logistically speaking, though, I'm also aware that sometimes you have to venture elsewhere to improve your own position. And that's what I imagine I'll end up doing; living in a series of small apartments in various places until I find a place that suits me just as well as Keokuk did. You wouldn't believe how difficult that's been thus far. I feel out of place wherever I go, even when I've been an active part in various art and music scenes. I'm still this outsider, you know, the small-town kid that I've always been. You can't run from that because it can outrun you. It's nothing for reality to stay in pace.
A pair of cars rests in the grass in Lockridge, Iowa.
DY: Tell us about the Forgotten Iowa Project. How did it begin and what is its aim? I became mildly obsessed with researching my ancestry in the summer of 2013, and I discovered that my family has stayed in the same geographical pocket for more than a hundred and fifty years. Not all in Keokuk, obviously, but well within 50 miles of it. It started in Virginia, though, and moved toward Kahoka, Missouri in the 1800's. From there, my family has stayed put. They've weathered population rises and falls, factories coming and going, and the like.
Anyway, that really got me thinking. I wanted to know more about my ancestors, so I eventually worked my way to these small towns. I saw family homes that were constructed by my great-great-great grandfather. To this day, they stand and families live in them. That's an incredible feat and was so awe-inspiring to me. It showed me that your legacy doesn't die with you. It lives on with the people you loved, the people that loved you, and the things that you helped create.
With Canada and Mexico claiming to have been harmed by the U.S.'s Country of Origin Labeling, advocates find themselves fighting for the law on multiple fronts. Some lawmakers suggest scaling back COOL, but others say cutting some fat would equal a surrender.
Photo by ReutersCOOL requires The country of origin label meatpackers are required to include country-of-origin labels on their products to denote where the meat was raised and slaughtered. The law is in dispute.
Both Canada and Mexico have claimed harm from U.S. Country of Origin Labeling (COOL) that identifies sources of our food.
In spite of the fact that a study by Dr. Robert Taylor of Auburn University shows no harm to foreign markets, the U.S. House of Representatives, led by the House Agriculture Committee, has repealed COOL for U.S. beef, pork, and poultry.
Four U.S. Courts approved the legality of COOL before the World Trade Organization (WTO) complaint was filed. But American laws were subverted by free trade deals allowing WTO statutes to take precedence over our own U.S. law.
Action in the Senate is pending. I hope they take the patriotic route, but with trade sanction retaliation threatened by Canada and Mexico, weak knees in the Senate may prevail just as they did in the House.
USDA has recently approved chicken imports from China even though China’s food safety record is atrocious. The Obama Administration has also approved the import of beef from foot-and-mouth disease afflicted regions of South America, at great peril to American beef herds. And every so often Canada reports another case of mad cow disease, the brain destroying disease that might affect humans the same way.
Without COOL, American consumers will be in the dark about food safety like never before.
Senator Debbie Stabenow (D-MI) has proposed modifying the COOL law of mandatory labeling for muscle cuts of beef and pork to one of voluntary labeling, while preserving mandatory labeling for chicken, ground beef, and ground pork. Those are the products where the risk of food borne illness is greatest.
Some farm groups who said they supported COOL never stepped up to defend it. Farm Bureau, National Cattlemen’s Beef Association, and National Pork Producers Council never questioned the unfounded WTO complaint. That’s because they represent corporate business interests ahead of small family farms.
The Census Bureau wants to cut the “flush-toilet” question from its largest survey, saying the query is an “unnecessary burden on the American Public.” But changing the definition of inadequate plumbing won’t make it go away.
With the recent foreclosure crisis and the rise of housing affordability problems, concerns around substandard and dilapidated homes may have waned or been pushed in to the background. Indeed, long-term efforts to improve housing conditions have resulted in dramatic reductions in the most egregious housing deficiencies. In 1970, more than 3.5 million homes in the United States were without complete plumbing facilities. In 2013, the number of homes lacking adequate plumbing declined to roughly 570,000, or less than 1 percent of the nation’s housing stock. An estimated 70 percent of these “plumbing-inadequate” homes lack a functioning flush toilet.
How do we know this? The Census Bureau asks U.S. households a series of questions about their housing as part of its American Community Survey, or ACS. The ACS provides relatively limited data on basic structural and quality characteristics of our homes, such as adequate plumbing and kitchen facilities. The Census survey classifies a home as having adequate plumbing facilities if it contains three basic characteristics: 1) “hot and cold piped water,” 2) a “flush toilet,” and 3) a “bathtub or shower.” Citing an “unnecessary burden on the American public,” the Census Bureau is proposing to discontinue the “flush-toilet” criterion when determining if a housing unit has adequate plumbing.
A large number of homes without working toilets are located in rural and small-town areas. In some rural communities, especially on Native American lands, the incidence of homes lacking basic plumbing can exceed 20 times the national rate. In Apache County, Arizona, part of the Navajo Nation, an estimated 17 percent of homes lack adequate plumbing. The state of Alaska has some of the highest rates of homes without toilets. Overall, 8 percent of rural homes in Alaska lack proper plumbing, and in some Alaska counties, nearly 40 percent of homes are without indoor plumbing. Inadequate plumbing in Alaska is likely influenced in part by its climate and permafrost that inhibits water and wastewater access.