Seniors struggle to hold onto property, way of life

Lindsey Nelson / Whitefish Pilot Gladys Border says high taxes on her longtime Whitefish property make it tough to make ends meet.

Gladys Border and her husband moved to their little piece of Whitefish in 1952, before it was the shady paradise it is these days. Back then the effects of a large 1929 fire could still be felt and the tallest tree on the property was not much taller than the 90-year-old woman.

"You could see across the fields to Columbia Mountain," she recalls.

Enormous pine and larch trees reach up to the sky around her. It's not the only foreboding presence for Border. For years she and her husband pieced together a living by assembling necessities in Montana style; they hunted and grew a garden instead of buying groceries; they fetched water from the nearby lake. Now the little farm that she and her husband, Dave, who died 30 years ago, put so much work into is considered prime real estate. Now her property taxes match those imposing pines.

"Taxes are tough. They've gone sky high in the last 20 years," Border explains matter-of-factly. She's not feeling sorry for herself, she knows there are many who are worse off than she is. She's seen tough times and has learned to be thankful for what she has: a home to call her own, enough food on her table and neighbors that look in after her.

"I'm not living high on the hog, but I'm never hungry," she says self-assuredly. "I'm sure lots of older folks can't say that."

For Border and many seniors who live on fixed incomes, their pasts are as solid as pine, but their futures are not.

"The way things are going you never know what will happen," she says, sure of one thing in an uncertain future. "Prices are going up and not down."

Those rising prices are a fact of life for many seniors. According to 1999 census bureau statistics, 13 percent of the population live below the $12,384 poverty line. Almost one-quarter of citizens living below the poverty line are seniors: 23 percent of that population is 55 or older.

When you live on fixed income, the growth in Whitefish means increasing taxes and decreasing money available for items such as groceries or medications. In a hot real estate market such as Whitefish, that means many seniors here feel an added pinch.

Whitefish Meals on Wheels knows the faces of many of area seniors. Of the 26 meals they deliver on any given day to seniors in Whitefish, Meals on Wheels often provides the only meal of the day.

Debbie Reimnitz is a registered nurse case manager for Northwest Montana Human Resources. She knows the struggle that living on a fixed income means because she cares for several seniors in the area.

"It's becoming harder and harder, the amount of money that is left in their check is becoming smaller and smaller," Reimnitz explains. According to Reimnitz, seniors who qualify for Medicaid are left approximately $550 a month to pay for rent or property taxes, utilities and food. Rarely is there money left for home repairs or extras. In an effort to cut costs, she sees many seniors dangerously cut costs.

"Many seniors don't turn on the lights or turn up the heat as much as they should," Reimnitz observes.

Going without

"They give us the same check and expect us to pay all of the bills," exclaims Bert, who doesn't want her last name used because she doesn't want people feeling sorry for her. She's worked all of her life and is proud of it, but after 45 years of pay that started at 90 cents and hour, her wages topped out at $6.50 per hour. After rent, insurance, prescription drugs, and utilities, there is not much left of her $1,000 Social Security income and often that means going without.

Bert wants to get a medical/ambulance alert collar after a recent stroke caught her by surprise. Because she lives alone, she doesn't want to be surprised again, but cannot afford the $45 a month payments that go along with the medical alert collar.

But like the pride that keeps her from revealing her last name, she shrugs off asking for help from family or friends.

"I'd rather go without," she says simply.

Despite tough situations and tight finances, many seniors echo her sentiments. The Great Depression made them independent souls and survivors. That same spirit often stops them from expressing their true need, but also gives them a kind of sturdy pride that seems capable of weathering whatever will come.

Isolation and loss of neighborhoods

Ann Benda feels she is getting along just fine financially, but growth in Whitefish has other affects. Benda, an 86-year-old senior who lives downtown, is isolated in her own neighborhood. Businesses have taken the place of the once bustling households. No neighbors means fewer visitors and no one to watch over a little old lady who likes to knit Christmas stockings and mittens. The traffic on her street is so loud she keeps her front door closed almost constantly. Benda is a sweet-natured woman who single-handedly supported herself through an at-home ironing business, but even she is tired of what many call progress.

"There never used to be anything out there," she says, gesturing to the constant flow of traffic, "This used to be a friendly little western town, more of a family. And I used to have neighbors. That's progress they say. I hate progress."

With the increase in rental units and busy lifestyles, few neighbors notice let alone take the time to stop and visit with the aging legacy of days gone by.