WHEN THINGS GO WRONG, SLOWLY

Poverty is insidious. It can creep in slowly, before you realize it. Even when you know that you have done everything “the right way.” Ann Poehlman is living proof of that.

Ann lived a life of service. She worked for 25 years as a Michigan State Police Officer, then left to stay home with their young children. But when her marriage dissolved in 2016, Ann decided to pursue a lifelong dream. “My kids were grown, building their lives,” she explains. “My life’s dream was to be a park ranger in Rocky Mountain National Park. I had a pension and health insurance, so I went there. I was cleaning toilets, doing custodial work, but I didn’t care. They covered my housing in that beautiful place, and I was making $17 an hour in addition to my pension. Life was good.” Ann then earned her Commercial Driver’s License (CDL), which meant she could advance to driving a tour bus. “I drove people through jaw-dropping beauty,” she reflects. “I felt security, safety and pure joy every day.”

Yet, the 19-hour drives for the occasional visit to her children were taking their toll. One day Ann got a call from her old landlord, letting her know a bungalow she used to rent in Union Pier was available. Her boss helped her land a position that summer at Indiana Dunes National Park. “It was seasonal work, and two pay grades lower than what I’d been doing, but I figured I’d apply for a permanent job. What could go wrong?” By August, Ann had earned a permanent position mowing roads and trails. She was 62 and working toward a vested pension in five years. Everything was working. Until February 14, 2025, when her job was eliminated.

I try to look in the mirror and tell myself, ‘Be gracious with yourself the way we are with others. You haven’t done anything wrong.'

The following month, her landlord notified her that her rent would be increasing by $55 a month. Ann began a desperate search for a more affordable place. Walking through town, she noticed the Neighbor by Neighbor storefront. “I was going to ask if they knew of housing,” she recalls. “I didn’t dare take food. After all, I had a pension and a car. I didn’t need a food pantry. Then one of the ladies asked, ‘Hey, do you need any food?’ I’d been budgeting tightly. I was so hungry. I broke down. She handed me a grocery bag and said, ‘Pick out what you need.’ They gave me carrots, potatoes, celery and some fresh applesauce. They had toothpaste, and I needed it — I’d been cutting my toothpaste tube open not to waste any. It was just the kindness — I felt the enormity of my situation. I was standing there bawling because I really needed the food. It felt horrible. I felt ashamed. It’s crushing. But they told me, hey, it’s alright.”

As Ann works to navigate listings for jobs and housing (she hopes to find both in Illinois, closer to her daughter), she reflects on her situation. “I try to look in the mirror and tell myself, ‘Be gracious with yourself the way we are with others. You haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t deserve to be hungry or homeless.’ Everyone has a right to security. Know that you deserve to sleep with food in your belly. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I hope more people can find this organization. The individuals there really want to help you will listen and won’t judge. It’s a safe place to be.”