Like an intrusive Jehovah’s witness or a cheap hooker I probe for those in need who qualify for Supplemental Security Income (SSI) but are not yet on it. Many don’t know about their right to this retirement income, though it’s nothing to kick back on, it’s for basic human needs, about a $1000 a month to barely live on.
Up at the Sylvandale nursery yesterday, when buying a flat of kale starts, I saw a grizzled old vet, of life at least, and said, “So you’re doing all right?”
That was my “come-on line” to see if he’s another of those clueless bastards who don’t know about this benefit available for seniors over sixty-five, for those who don’t qualify for the real Social Security (SSA). He had just put a sign up on the bulletin board announcing that his cat was lost, about which he was heartbroken. (It had just run away when he was in the process of unloading it at the nearby vet.)
He has been a fisherman for forty years and I told him about my one exciting ocean experience, rowing a dingy from the shore at Shelter Cove into the Pacific to pick up some teenagers off a dory. I’d taken them on a fishing field trip with Andre Rode 50 years ago. “Fifty years!” he said.
We introduced each other and I found out he was Don Sack, the “oppressed fisherman” who used to tell his woeful tale of the declining fishery regularly on KMUD’s “All Sides Now” editorial feature, until they shut him down. (They probably didn’t like it that he ended his spiel with “and God bless Donald Trump.”)
We traded our “banned by KMUD stories” and I said, “I’m a big liberal but everyone should be allowed to have their say, express their opinion.” (I also told him about the “All Sides Now” bit I had called in and recorded, an imagined play-by-play, Don Sack Vs. Jake Pickering, a righty/lefty smackdown, which the weenies at the radio station didn’t air, of course.)
“Who’s Jake Pickering?” he asked.
My outreach hobby is haphazard and unorganized, like later that day when I was paying for my “pure gas” at Renner and Jackie Daniels came into the office.
“So you made 65?” I casually said.
“I’m 68!” he said.
“And are you on SSI?” I asked.
“I’m trying,” he said, “but… let’s talk outside.”
I paid my bill for the special gas (the one without additives which isn’t supposed to gunk up the backup generator used about once a year when the power goes out), met Jackie out on the patio, and he told me what he’s been going through trying to get his SSI. They want him to provide two years of bank statements and all his bank gave him was two months from over the last two years. He was discouraged and looked haggard.
“They’re suspicious, they must think I’ve got a hoard of money hidden,” he said, “but I’ve only got $600 left in the bank from an inheritance.”
He had lost his home recently, a small cabin in the woods, and found a cheap temporary place in town for a couple months with a very benevolent landlord. But then the landlord broke up with his girlfriend, sent her north from Mexico to run his chaotic rental scene, where the tenants rarely paid their rent, and Jackie had to leave. Now he’s crashing in a friend’s shed somewhere out in the hills.
“Maybe call SSI back and tell them you didn’t get all the bank statements, or contact the bank again and make sure they know what you want,” I said. “They could email it to you to speed things up.”
“I don’t have an email,” he said, “just a flip phone.”
I thought about it for a few seconds and said, “Well I have a lot of email addresses, you could use one of those. They could email it to me and I would print it out for you.”
“But then how would I get it?” he said.
“We’d figure that out,” I replied. God, this guy...
“They want me to show them all my receipts, what I spent the money on. I just spent it, spent it on things like twenty dollar books. I don’t have any receipts, who keeps that stuff? Do you work for them?”
“No, I’m an amateur outreach worker, a volunteer.”
Just then a local restaurant owner heard us talking and asked a question about Medicare. I directed her to my insurance agent across from the post office. “She’ll get you on track,” I said. She left with a smile and I thought, damn, there is a need for more outreach and info around here in the SoHum hills.
“I’ve only slept a few hours the last couple weeks,” Jackie continued. “It’s stressing me out worrying!”
“Yeah, I’ve been struggling with insomnia also,” I said. “I have to do all these different things now.”
“Like what?” he said.
“Have a set bedtime, no eating or drinking three hours before sleep, no electronics in the bedroom, no screen time an hour before bed, and especially no alcohol,” I said.
He looked at me oddly. “Well I don’t drink,” he said.
“Good, that was the hardest change,” I said.
After talking to Jackie for twenty minutes I was worn out, frustrated, tired of his story, and thought maybe I should drop this obsessive “social worker” gig? Later I thought, something’s not right here: he’s down to his last $600, over 65, and they’re making it hard for him to get paid because they’re obsessed with fraud. They’re not seeing the true picture of the human being in need.
I can see how he’s living, if he had a lot of hidden money he’d probably have a stable place. People with million dollar houses, and no income, are eligible for SSI and here’s this guy with nothing but a car and a couple guitars, and they’re making him jump through all the hoops.
They should just stamp him “approved” and turn on the gravy train. He probably doesn’t have good phone skills, he seems scattered and is maybe an ADHD case, if that really exists. They need to be convinced that he’s entitled to the $1000 a month, which he obviously is, in my opinion.
Maybe there’s a way to legally and officially advocate for him, vouch on a pile of food stamps that he is poor, old, and qualifies for SSI. He sounds erratic because of his anxiety and probably provoked suspicion in the case workers at Social Security.
Jackie could get on the waiting list for the local low-income senior housing but he needs an income. With the $1000 from SSI he could maybe rent some sub-standard space and survive with his food stamps. (He is probably not a rare case, if someone were really focused they might be able to find two seniors a week around here who qualify for SSI, a hundred in a year would add up to a $100,000 monthly infusion into the local economy, along with helping each desperate person.)
Jackie has contributed to the community for years with his music, playing in local bands and jam sessions. He’s well-liked and no one has ever said anything bad about him, just look at those kind blue eyes.
None of that should matter! Now he’s 68, struggling, and deserves to get paid! It’s time to give him his retirement check!
For years he used to be the guy who set up a table in front of Folk Art and the Mateel Art Co-op on Fridays out on Redwood Drive, selling books, videos and CDs. He would drive down to the Bay Area, buy used stuff, and make a few bucks selling them, until he was asked to move along by the new owner of the building. Does that sound like a rich scammer? He never really grew any weed and has no house or land, just an old Honda, and seems in danger of “falling through the cracks” into homelessness.
Why do I care? He’s not even my friend, but it just doesn’t seem right. I’ve already gotten my friends and family to sign up for SSI and food stamps, but it was easier for them as they already had stable places to live, albeit rustic cabins in the woods. (With one friend it took one twenty minute phone call and he got on, though he was a calm speaker and good communicator.) Do you qualify if you don’t have a stable address? It seems like Jackie is between places at the moment.
So what if he got a nice inheritance ten years ago? He lived on it and now it’s gone. It would have been fraud if he’d tried to get SSI while he had that money but he didn’t, which is evidence of No Fraud, in my book.
Do I need to do research and figure out how to make them realize he should get his SSI? Take photos of where he is crashing, videos of him in his band, start a petition, protest outside the Social Security office in Eureka with a sign saying “Pay Jackie Daniels!”
What would the petition say? “I pledge that Jackie is poor and is living in someone’s shed behind their house. He’s a good guy who has brought music and positive vibes to the area for a couple decades, and now needs help. Please give him a ride on the government gravy train for the rest of his life: Pay Jackie Daniels!”
A lot of people around here would sign that.
Be First to Comment