PAYCHECK TO PAYCHECK

Stretch every dollar

ONE IN A SERIESThe struggle to make ends meet in Centre County“If his job is to earn the money, then my job is to stretchthe money, to make it last longer. It takes work.”

By Chris Rosenblum

STATE COLLEGE — Statistically, Todd and Heather Kellerman shouldn't be making ends meet. But they're getting by.

The Kellermans, who have two young sons, live thriftily in their State College house on a monthly after-tax income of about $2,300 — a combination of his wages from working at a Milesburg box factory and her monthly disability benefits.

Over a year, that exceeds the federal poverty guideline of $20,650 for a family of four. But it falls short of being a living wage in Centre County, as determined by Amy Glasmeier, a professor of economic geography at Penn State.

By her calculations, a county family of four needs at least $43,416 to cover food, clothing, medical, transportation and other basic expenses.

For Heather Kellerman, though, the only living wage that matters is the one she and her family live on every day.

“If his job is to earn the money, then my job is to stretch the money, to make it last longer,” she said. “It takes work.”

She’s used to working hard, even if her health prevents her from taking a job.

At 22, five years after she woke up one morning with a paralyzed side, she suffers from fibromyalgia, which causes chronic pain and fatigue in muscles, ligaments and tendons.

She also has Raynaud’s disease, a disorder affecting circulation that can leave extremities numb and cold. Repetitive motions are painful, and she’s considered fully disabled, she said. Even making brownies hurts.

Six years ago, her oldest son, Shane, was born. His brother, Seth, followed four years later. She and Todd, who’s 26, have been together for seven years and married for three.

These days, they have a better life than ever.

Working 12-hour shifts four days a week, Todd makes $12.30 an hour and may receive a raise soon. His previous employer, a furniture company, paid him $8.78 an hour after four years.

Their housing situation also has improved.

This fall, they moved into a compact, one-story home, courtesy of Habitat for Humanity and a zero-interest loan. They have new appliances in their pink kitchen, and the boys have their own bedrooms and a small yard to enjoy. The tap water is clean, the rooms warm.

Before, they couldn’t count on either. Their College Township trailer home with the cracked concrete pad cost $705 a month — $320 for loan payments, $385 for the lot. When they couldn’t pay for heating oil and the pipes froze, brown water no longer came out of the faucets.

One of Shane’s former teachers suggested they apply to Habitat for Humanity. Now, they make $380 monthly mortgage payments, though they still owe money on the trailer as part of their $11,000 in consolidated debt.

They’re trying to sell the trailer, and if they do, their monthly housing costs — even with $60 utility and $60 cable bills — will be lower than the $706 budgeted in Glasmeier’s living wage.

Their new home saves them gas money also.

In the trailer, they lived too far to walk to stores, leaving Heather stuck at home when Todd took their 1998 Chevrolet Blazer to work. Sometimes, by the time he returned, the pharmacies had closed, and she had to cope a day or more without painkillers.

Now, she can walk to a nearby shopping center to pick up groceries and her prescriptions and shop at thrift stores, reducing their transportation expenses.

She also walks Shane to and from school a few blocks away. Pushing Seth in his stroller, she greets other mothers and the crossing guard. Teacher conferences and PTO meetings, once regularly missed, are minutes away.

“We can actually be part of the community,” she said.

Most of her energies, however, go into managing their household.

Cutting piles of coupons, she spends about $300 a month on groceries, less than the $570 that Glasmeier's “living wage” calculator estimates is needed to feed a family of four. She’s a hawk for post-holiday sales and bargains, even at thrift stores. Recently, for just $7, she bought winter coats, hats and scarves for herself and the boys — all new with tags.

“I get deals like that all the time,” she said. “You just have to look for them.”

Fortunately, they don’t search for health care. Todd is covered through work, and Medicare takes care of Heather, who pays small co-payments each month for doctor visits and for more than $900 worth of medications. Even then, she said, her plan won’t pay for a new drug that would help alleviate her daily pain.

For four months this year, the boys lacked health coverage. Now, with the low-income Children’s Health Insurance Plan known as CHIP, Shane can see a specialist for hearing problems and Seth can receive his overdue 18-month checkup.

Even with the scrimping and cutting deals with credit card companies and bill collectors, there’s enough left for treats: the boys’ SpongeBob Square-pants and Spider-Man quilts and curtains, popcorn for movie nights at home, a computer paid for in installments.

“If you ask Shane, he thinks we’re one of the richest families,” Heather Kellerman said.

It may be a modest version of the American dream, but it’s theirs and they’ll take it.

“Before, when I mowed, I had two little strips,” Todd Kellerman said. “Now, I have a whole yard. Maybe I’ll plant flowers.”

Chris Rosenblum can be reached at 231-4620.