BETHLEHEM, Pa.— In a time when demand for emergency food assistance is hovering around record-highs, one Lehigh Valley shelter, New Bethany, has helped give out more than 1,000 turkeys — 1071, to be exact, said Executive Director Marc Rittle.
Besides the increase in demand, there's also been a change in demographics that organizations like New Bethany are seeing.
"New faces," as Rittle put it.
One of those new faces is Carlos Alberto Devarie Vega. He is in his mid-50s, stands up straight, speaks clearly, and is quick to offer a firm handshake and a sincere smile.
"I have nothing to hide," he said with a smile, graciously allowing his photo to be taken and name used.
Vega on Tuesday just finished a turkey dinner, which he ate out of a plastic take-out container while watching "Gunsmoke", a 1953 western that happened to be playing on the food bank's TV.
Last year, Vega said things were very different for him. "It was just May — May the 3rd was my last day. I loved that company so much," he said. "I was making $44,000 a year. But where's that money now? Gone."
Vega is a certified forklift operator — even showed a photo of his certification on his phone — and said he loved his job, and people recognized him as a hard-working, friendly colleague.
"They loved me because I like to work," he said with a laugh.
So what went wrong? Vega said he got into an unfortunate situation.
He is from Puerto Rico originally, and next lived in Florida. His relationship with his family is complicated — his mother died recently, and he didn't meet his father until he was in his early 50s, over a Facebook message. Growing up, life at home was shaky. He moved out early and without any documents like a birth certificate or ID, which Vega said could have saved him a lot of trouble further down the road.
After moving to Pennsylvania, Vega got a new job, using his forklift certification. He couldn't open up a bank account without an ID, so he said he decided to make a handshake agreement with an acquaintance, that he would list that person's bank account as his direct deposit destination to his employer, and Vega would just get the cash on payday from his acquaintance, who at that point, he trusted.
"I've seen this one dude who was outside 15 years because he just couldn't get his birth certificate. You can't get your ID without a birth certificate, and you can't get your birth certificate without your ID, and your Social Security card is somewhere in the middle there. And that's how sometimes homeless people are stuck."Brandy Garofalo, Food Access Director for New Bethany
Vega said this did not work out, and he was quickly in a situation where he was working full-time hours, not getting his paychecks because they were going into another bank account, couldn't track down his former friend, and had no legal recourse because he couldn't afford a lawyer — and even if he could, they would have a hard time proving he was entitled to the contents of someone else's bank account.
"I just need a little help," Vega said. "I don't ask for much."
Vega said he's grateful for all the resources provided by organizations like New Bethany. "I'm so full of turkey right now — I don't even want to think about turkey. It was so good," he said as he rubbed his stomach in a circular motion.
'That's how sometimes homeless people are stuck'
Luckily, there is hope for Vega.
Brandy Garofalo, New Bethany's Food Access Director, heard about Vega's dilemma shortly after dinner the same day.
"I've seen this one dude who was outside 15 years because he just couldn't get his birth certificate," Garofalo said, looking through a binder that she picked up about two seconds after learning about Vega's situation. "You can't get your ID without a birth certificate, and you can't get your birth certificate without an ID. Your Social Security card is somewhere in the middle there. And that's how sometimes homeless people are stuck."
"And others, who just don't know what resources are available," Garofalo added as she flipped through the book.
"OK I'll go find him and set him up with the right person," she said, matter-of-factly.
It turns out, New Bethany has a process for helping people who are homeless get government identification, as it's a common enough issue that can trap people in a cycle of poverty.
'There just doesn't need to be that many people sleeping outside'
New Bethany's Executive Director, Marc Rittle, said there is definitely no shortage of turkeys at the shelter, from his perspective.
"People will have turkeys," Rittle said with a laugh. They just gave out more than a thousand, after all. "I'm more worried about houses. Like, I really, really would like to solve the problem of people sleeping in tents."
"Oh, yeah. I mean, in particular, the night before last night, I was trying to call back a woman who said she was coming all the way from Slatington. She would like to come [to New Bethany], because she missed the turkey giveaway there. And she had no other means to get one. And, you know, her voice was cracking, like, she was very, very upset. By the time I left the office, I wasn't able to get ahold of her. And I did I think about her while I was eating dinner. I thought about her before I went to bed. First thing in the morning, I was back on the phone. And when I finally did get to speak to her, it was a feeling of relief. I do. I do think about it a lot."Brandy Garofalo, Food Access Director for New Bethany
Elaborating, Rittle said he wishes he could just snap his fingers and fix the housing shortage.
"There just doesn't need to be so many people sleeping outside," he said. "And that is a housing issue, that's what I worry about most."
'You can't reschedule Thanksgiving'
For Rittle, housing is the aspect of his work that he says causes him to lose sleep.
For his colleague, Brandy Garofalo, it's mainly about making sure people and families have food.
"Oh, yeah. I mean, in particular, the night before last night, I was trying to call back a woman who said she was coming all the way from Slatington. She would like to come [to New Bethany], because she missed the turkey giveaway there. And she had no other means to get one. And, you know, her voice was cracking, like, she was very, very upset. By the time I left the office, I wasn't able to get ahold of her. And I did I think about her while I was eating dinner. I thought about her before I went to bed. First thing in the morning, I was back on the phone. And when I finally did get to speak to her, it was a feeling of relief. I do. I do think about it a lot."
Garofalo lives near the nonprofit's Bethlehem location, and a big chunk of her life is spent helping unhoused people who she recognizes from her day job at the shelter. "It's not unusual for her to be outside making sure people have blankets," Rittle said, complimenting her dedication out of her earshot.
She said Thanksgiving is an especially emotional holiday for making sure there's enough food to go around.
"With my staff and my team, we're very, very, you know, hardcore. We need to help everyone, every time. There's no messing up. There's absolutely no messing up because you can't redo it. It's one thing you know, other times of the year, though, if you missed the food bank, you come back tomorrow. Well, because you can't reschedule Thanksgiving."
Changing demographics
New Bethany, along with other shelters and similar organizations, have gone on record in the last couple of years saying that they are seeing a change in the types of people relying on their services.
The newer crowd contains younger people, and those who have been gainfully employed — or maybe still even would be considered so in a different economy.
For example, one person at the shelter for turkey dinner was a man named Steven, who did not want to include his last name, for privacy reasons.
Steven said he previously drove trucks for a living, and in the last two years, calculated his salary at around $3,000 per week.
If this were consistent, that would be over $156,000 a year.
"You know, I'm in this situation, and I have a hard time getting help because I have a dog," he said, explaining that many shelters have a no-dogs rule.
"Like I understand that some dogs bite, but come on," he said — with perfect timing: his small, puffy, American Eskimo dog named Polar "bit" his hand with about the same amount of force it takes to chew peanut butter. It was a very gentle bite and clearly harmless. As Steven continued to speak, Polar splayed out on his back and enjoyed a belly rub with some ear scratches. Polar is a rescue, which Steven said might explain why he's so friendly.
"He's as nice as he is because he wasn't getting treated right," Steven said. "He's a sweet ball of fluff."
New Bethany accepts donations of most kinds — even single turkeys. Garofalo said people often don't understand how much impact even a single turkey can have when they give one.
"People come in and look over and see hundreds of turkeys and they say 'Aww I just brought one...', well yeah and so did eighty other people so now we have eighty turkeys!" Garofalo said. "Everything counts. It makes a difference."
