Crestline's Little Dirty Secret

Jessica............................................
I met Jessica through IHSS, a state program that pays caregivers to help vulnerable people in our community. The first time we met, she waited for me outside. Her hair was gray and so thin I could almost see through it. She was hunched over, fragile—but confident. She directed me to take her to the store.

Inside, it became clear she couldn’t walk the aisles. She sat in the Goodwin’s lounge area while I ran around grabbing what she needed, bringing items back for her approval. She was a strict vegan, and I had no idea what I was doing. We laughed a little.

When we got home, I offered to help put the groceries away. The outside of her house looked like a hundred unfinished projects and a lifetime of good intentions. A bucket of rotten food sat by the trash cans. My mind raced: maggots (I hate maggots), bears… and then the question I didn’t want to ask—what does the inside look like?

At the door, Jessica thanked me, took the groceries, turned around boldly and said, “Call me tomorrow,” and shut the door.

There is more to this story—blood, children, lawyers, and more maggots—but I’ll spare you the details. Within a week, Jessica was dead.

Buz......................................................
I met Buz through a friend who lived in the trailer park. He was a veteran, just a few doors down. We tried to get him signed up for IHSS. The red tape was unreal—forms, interviews, waiting, more forms. What we expect an elderly person with a flip phone to navigate is absurd. Even worse, a veteran on Social Security didn’t qualify.

So I found another way.

Edited in Prisma app with Crowd

Buz hadn’t had a car in five years. He survived on food from the liquor store because that’s as far as he could walk. Over time, we became friends—playing cards, watching Bar Rescue (his favorite).

As I got to know Buz, the truth came out: no heat for winter, leaky sink emptying into a bucket, medical needs. When you walked into the house you were always overwhelmed with the smell of gas. When on a fixed income there is no money to fix the heater, so open sits the oven lit and spewing gas to keep from freezing in the winter months on the Mountain.

The first time I took him to Operation Provider, our incredible local food bank, we drove along Highway 18. The look on his face—astonishment, awe, relief—I realized he hadn’t been to the Rim in over five years. I watched a man rediscover freedom.

He used to be a biker, so I started putting the top down on my red convertible. Wind, sunshine, the good old days. My favorite part was driving back into the trailer park and seeing the looks on people’s faces as we cruised in together.

Steve....................................................................
Steve always sat outside his trailer with his dog. A gentle, kind man. I’d bring him leftover food Buz didn’t want, and his face would light up every time.

I asked if he wanted to go to Operation Provider. He said yes immediately—his car had been broken for years. As I got to know him, the truth came out: no heat for winter, no hot water to bathe, serious medical needs.

Another soul lost. Another neighbor forgotten..................................................................................

Crestline and Cedar Pines Park have a combined population of 10,833 residents living in 4,804 households, including more than 400 veterans. Nearly 13% of residents, about 1,232 people, are living in poverty. Among elderly households, almost 6% have annual incomes below $15,000. About 4% of residents are unemployed. More than 64 households lack access to a vehicle, leaving them reliant on others during emergencies or evacuations. Approximately 110 households do not have internet access, limiting their ability to obtain essential information and resources.

These numbers tell a story of isolation. When services are primarily located down the hill, access becomes nearly impossible for many of our seniors, veterans, and low-income residents. Transportation, technology, and bureaucracy form barriers that are simply too high.

There are many more “Buz’s, Jessica's and Steve's” on this mountain, people who need food, heat, medical care, and dignity. Neighbors are stepping up wherever we can, but we cannot replace systemic access to services.

For more information please visit our Demand Better link for how to get involved or email us at MountainBearDemSecretary@gmail.com

—Holiday