⚙️Structural Schisms 2: Evicted by Design

Hickory’s housing problems didn’t happen by accident. They came from choices — rules and policies that protect what’s already built instead of helping people build a life here.

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🏘️ Policy by Design: How Hickory Built Its Own Housing Trap

Hickory’s housing problems are not accidents of the market—they are the predictable results of policies that reward preservation of comfort over expansion of opportunity. For decades, zoning limits, assessment formulas, and permitting practices have been written to protect existing homeowners while making it harder for new or lower-income residents to gain a foothold. The outcome is visible across the city: aging neighborhoods without reinvestment, rising rents in once-affordable areas, and an ownership base that is older, smaller, and less diverse each year. Evicted by Design examines how these local rules, intended to maintain order and value, have instead locked too many working families out of stability.

Single-family zoning covers most of Hickory’s residential land. That pattern dates back more than fifty years, when the city expanded outward instead of upward. While the intent was to protect property values and limit overcrowding, the effect has been to restrict new housing types that match modern incomes. Duplexes, small apartment clusters, and accessory dwellings are either prohibited or slowed by conditional approvals that raise costs before construction begins. As a result, most new development targets higher-income buyers, leaving middle- and lower-tier families competing for the same limited stock of older homes. According to the Household Comfort Index 2025, starter-home ownership now costs nearly twice the city’s median rent, and available inventory under $250,000 has fallen below sustainable levels. Zoning that once kept neighborhoods stable now keeps them exclusive.

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💰 Structure and Tax: When Order Becomes Exclusion

Hickory’s tax structure mirrors its zoning. Because most of the city’s residential area is limited to single-family homes, revenue growth depends heavily on revaluation and new construction in already stable neighborhoods. That dynamic shifts the property tax burden toward older and lower-value areas each time assessments rise. Homeowners in high-value zones benefit from rate smoothing and consistent reinvestment, while residents in aging districts face higher effective tax rates on depreciating properties. Renters feel it indirectly through rate pass-throughs in their leases. The system rewards the preservation of high-value housing stock and penalizes those living in places that have fallen behind. Without reform, each revaluation cycle further divides the city — protecting those already established and pressuring those still trying to gain a foothold.

Ownership patterns have shifted toward concentration. Over the last decade, more than one in five single-family homes in Hickory has been purchased by investors or management companies rather than resident owners. These buyers often pay cash, outbidding local families who rely on financing. Once acquired, many of those homes are converted to rentals or held for resale at higher prices, tightening supply and raising rent across working-class neighborhoods. The result is a two-tier market—one driven by investment yield and another struggling to meet daily expenses. Residents who could once buy and build equity now pay higher rent to firms headquartered outside the region. What looks like a functioning market on paper is, in practice, a transfer of ownership and leverage away from the local population.

Code enforcement and permitting practices further separate who can stay in older neighborhoods and who cannot. In theory, these systems exist to keep properties safe and maintain standards across the city. In practice, the cost and timing of compliance fall hardest on residents with the fewest resources. A homeowner in an aging area who receives a repair notice may face thousands of dollars in work just to keep a property in good standing. If they cannot pay, the property becomes a code case, and continued noncompliance can lead to fines or eventual sale. By contrast, developers and well-financed owners can navigate the same system easily—hiring inspectors, paying fees, and moving projects forward without delay. The difference is not intent; it is capacity. Each new layer of regulation, even when justified, becomes another weight on those already struggling to hold on. Over time, the result is quiet displacement—families leaving not because they want to, but because they can no longer afford to meet the rules that govern the homes they already own.

Infrastructure spending follows value in the same way zoning and taxation do. Projects that add sidewalks, drainage improvements, broadband, and new utilities are concentrated in higher-value areas where tax receipts are strongest. Neighborhoods that generate less revenue are expected to wait for future funding cycles or to qualify for grants that rarely match the scale of need. This pattern has repeated for decades. The effect is that public investment reinforces the existing map of privilege. Areas already stable become more connected and desirable, while older neighborhoods continue to lose ground. Families who live on streets with failing storm drains or limited internet access pay the same tax rate as those in newer subdivisions, yet see few of the same returns. The logic of the system is circular: value determines where money goes, and money determines where value grows. Until that cycle is broken, Hickory’s development pattern will keep widening the gap between stability and struggle.

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 🏚️ The Human Consequence: Life Inside the Housing Divide

The human impact of these policies is visible in every part of the city. Families who once rented affordably near work or school now spend half their income just to stay housed. Many have moved farther out, trading shorter commutes for longer drives and higher transportation costs. Younger workers with steady jobs still cannot qualify for a mortgage because prices and lending standards have moved beyond their reach. Older residents who have owned their homes for decades face new pressure from rising insurance premiums, repair costs, and property taxes that climb faster than their income. The same neighborhoods that once offered working families a path to stability now trap them in cycles of rent and relocation. For every block that gains new investment, another loses long-time residents who can no longer afford to remain. The story is not only about buildings or codes—it is about people gradually being priced out of the very place they helped build.

Fixing Hickory’s housing problems means changing the rules that created them. It starts with zoning that allows more types of homes — duplexes, small apartments, and backyard units that match what people can actually afford. It means adjusting property taxes so that aging neighborhoods are not punished every time the city revalues property. It means enforcing housing codes with fairness, giving homeowners time and support to make repairs instead of driving them out. And it means putting public money where the need is, not just where values are already high. These steps are not about lowering standards; they are about restoring balance. A healthy city gives people room to move up, not just hold on. Hickory needs to make it possible for young families to be able to afford a home, not celebrate jacked up tax values.

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🏠 Cheat Sheet — Evicted by Design

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A fair city makes room for everyone willing to work and stay. Hickory’s future depends on whether it can still do that—or if it keeps closing the door. The next part of this series looks at how the city’s focus on attracting retirees has quietly reshaped its economy. What began as a strategy for growth now risks turning into dependence, as fixed incomes and limited reinvestment replace the energy and adaptability that once drove the region forward. Stability is valuable, but not if it comes at the cost of renewal.

⚙️Structural Schisms 1: The Vanishing Middle

Introduction — Structural Schisms

Structural Schisms is a series about how Hickory’s systems function — not just the people who work within them, but the design, duplication, and disconnects that shape local results. It follows the Factions of Self-Preservation series, which examined the mindsets that hold communities back. This next step looks at the machinery itself: how decisions are made, how money moves, and why outcomes often fail to match the effort or investment.

Each article studies one layer of the local structure — schools, housing, labor, governance, and infrastructure — using real data and plain logic. The goal isn’t to assign blame but to show where coordination breaks down and what can be fixed with discipline and focus. Hickory still has the assets, the people, and the capacity to do better; what it needs is alignment and accountability. Structural Schisms is about building that foundation.

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The Disappearing Center: Hickory’s Eroding Middle-Class Equation

Hickory’s middle-income stability has eroded over twenty-five years as the cost of ordinary living rose faster than household earnings. In 1999, most families could maintain a mortgage, a vehicle, and basic healthcare on one or two steady incomes. Today, those same costs require higher wages than most local jobs provide. The region’s manufacturing contraction, combined with automation and global outsourcing, removed a large share of jobs that once offered predictable pay and benefits. Service-sector growth replaced them with positions that are flexible but low-margin. The result is visible in the Household Comfort Index 2025: only about one-fifth of Hickory households retain a financial buffer of more than 25 percent after paying essentials, while roughly 40 percent operate at or below break-even. The data confirm what residents already know—the middle has not vanished by perception; it has been priced out by the arithmetic of income versus expenses.

The data show how sharply household math changed. In 2015, a solid-middle family buying a $140,000 home at 3.85 percent interest paid roughly $740 per month for principal, taxes, and insurance — almost identical to average rent. By 2025, the same-tier household faces about $2,040 per month on a $292,000 home at 6.9 percent — nearly twice the city’s $1,000 median rent. A first-time buyer now pays $1,850 for ownership that once cost $708 in 2015. These figures from the Household Comfort Index 2025 show the cost of buying a home has risen far faster than wages. Hickory’s median household income grew less than 20 percent since 2020, while Duke Energy rates and housing values rose 30 percent or more. The result is clear: for many working families, ownership is no longer the baseline of stability — it is a luxury tier. Renters form the new majority, and their budgets are stretched thin by the same costs that once built equity.

The middle-income squeeze extends beyond mortgages. Core household expenses—electricity, food, and healthcare—now consume a larger share of take-home pay than at any point in the last two decades. Duke Energy’s residential rates in North Carolina have climbed roughly 30 percent since 2020, while Hickory’s median household income increased by less than 20 percent during the same period. Grocery inflation has averaged 4 to 6 percent annually since 2021, raising the cost of basic staples such as milk, eggs, and chicken by double-digit percentages. Health insurance premiums for employer plans rose 7 to 9 percent per year between 2021 and 2024. For a family earning $63,000—the city’s current median income—these combined increases leave almost no discretionary margin after rent, utilities, transportation, and food. The Household Comfort Index 2025 shows that for roughly 40 percent of households, each month’s balance sheet ends at zero or below. That absence of buffer is what defines the shrinking center in practical terms.

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Systems Out of Balance: Policy, Planning, and Institutional Drag

Employment patterns have also shifted in ways that make recovery harder for the middle tier. Manufacturing once provided a wage ladder: entry-level positions with benefits, raises tied to tenure, and skill-based advancement. Those systems eroded after 2000 as automation and contract labor replaced long-term payrolls. The Bureau of Labor Statistics and local workforce data show that most new jobs in the Hickory–Lenoir–Morganton area since 2015 are in healthcare support, logistics, and food service—fields that pay between $15 and $22 an hour. These roles sustain employment numbers but not upward mobility. Even when adjusted for inflation, the median hourly wage in Catawba County remains below its 2005 level. Younger workers face additional barriers: high housing costs, limited benefits, and student debt. Without stable earnings, they delay home ownership and family formation. The result is an economy that functions on paper but leaves a large share of residents one missed paycheck from instability.

The area’s household compression is reinforced by policy inertia. There are many overlapping obstacles in Catawba County relating to jurisdictions—cities, county, and multiple school systems—that duplicate functions and absorb administrative cost. The result is higher local overhead with limited coordination on community policies. Infrastructure spending has favored amenities over affordability: greenways and downtown projects attract visitors but do little to reduce the cost of living for residents. Meanwhile, building codes, fees, and zoning restrictions slow the addition of smaller, moderately priced homes. The cost of control, as documented in earlier civic reports, is paid through household budgets rather than public savings. Every duplicated system and delayed permit adds indirect cost to rent, taxes, and services. In practice, the public sector’s structure now mirrors the household strain it governs—fragmented, reactive, and more expensive than it needs to be.

Cultural stability has weakened alongside economic stability. Long-term homeownership once anchored neighborhoods through schools, churches, and civic groups that gave families shared structure. As tenure declines, those institutions lose participation and continuity. Hickory’s public school enrollment has flattened even as the population grows, and many congregations now operate at half their former membership. Rental turnover increases each year, with some neighborhoods seeing a majority of residents move within three years. These shifts reduce volunteer capacity and neighborhood maintenance—the informal labor that kept communities safe and functional. It is not a question of personal values but of time and resources. When households live month to month, community work becomes optional. That loss of civic bandwidth explains why even well-meaning initiatives often fail to reach scale. The middle class once supplied the volunteers and leadership that filled the gaps between what governments could provide and the community actually needs. As that base shrinks, the gaps widen. 

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Rebuilding the Foundation: From Survival to Stability

The disappearance of the middle class has measurable civic effects. As disposable income contracts, local tax capacity weakens. Hickory’s general fund revenue has grown modestly, but much of that growth reflects inflation, not expanded prosperity. Retail and hospitality revenues are volatile because household budgets leave little room for nonessential purchases.. Nonprofits report higher demand for basic assistance such as food, utilities, and rent support. The United Way of Catawba County confirmed that 41 percent of households now fall under the ALICE threshold, meaning they earn too much to qualify for aid but not enough to meet essential costs without debt. That group once formed the tax base, the volunteer pool, and the consumer market that sustained the city. When nearly half of families are behind on bills, the whole community feels it — more people need help, small businesses struggle to survive, and fewer residents take part in local life.

Rebuilding Hickory’s middle class starts with fixing how much it costs to live here, not just talking about growth or pride. The numbers already show what matters most. Homes need to be more affordable, which means building smaller houses, filling empty lots, and cutting some of the red tape that makes construction expensive. Energy programs can help families lower their power bills. Job training should match the work that actually exists in this region, not just what looks good on a grant form. Every change like this helps families keep a little more money at the end of the month. The Household Comfort Index is a way to track that progress — to see if more families are moving from struggling to stable. Real stability won’t come from big slogans or fancy projects. It will come when ordinary people can once again afford the basics without falling behind.

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🧭 Cheat Sheet — The Vanishing Middle

Closing Reflection

I’ve lived in Hickory long enough to remember when working hard meant you could build a life here. That promise is still within reach, but only if we stop treating affordability like a side issue. A city isn’t judged by its newest project or press release — it’s judged by whether ordinary people can afford to stay, work, and raise their families. Rebuilding the middle class isn’t about nostalgia; it’s about fairness, discipline, and respect for the people who keep this place running.

🌐⭐Toward a Healthier Hickory: A Community Investment Perspective⭐️🌐

"This Feature Report examines the health and cultural landscape of Hickory and Catawba County. It builds on earlier News and Views segments to ask: how strong is our community’s foundation of well-being, and what must be done to secure it for the future?"

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In the heart of North Carolina’s Foothills, Hickory and its surrounding communities reflect both promise and fragility in their health story. Facilities hum with activity, public programs hum with purpose—but deeper, invisible fractures still define who can benefit and who remains behind. This summary unpacks what works, what’s missing, and where bold investment could rewrite the region’s health future.

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Foundations That Work

Catawba Valley Medical Center (CVMC) anchors the region with tangible upgrades and distinguished care. A recent three-year overhaul of its Emergency Department and Heart Center delivered 46 modern treatment bays, specialized care zones, and integrated cardiac services. These upgrades were recognized nationally: CVMC earned a spot among the Top 100 U.S. Hospitals for Patient Experience and scored in the top 6% for patient safety—a testament to the facility’s operational excellence. Over 700 new staff and 30 additional providers joined the health system in 2024, bolstering its capacity even further.

Alongside clinical strength, public health infrastructure remains a steadfast partner. Catawba County’s public health department secured reaccreditation with honors, expanded workforce through Community Health Workers, and secured a notable REACH–CDC grant to address lingering need in nutrition, activity access, and tobacco prevention initiatives—all markers of purposeful, community-rooted engagement. These dual legs—clinical readiness and public health backbone—form a turning point toward broader resiliency.

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Yet Three Glaring Priorities Remain

The 2023 CHA illuminates where progress stalls:

1. Access to Healthy Food
Despite gains, food insecurity persists among Black and Latino families and children—communities still under-nourished by cost, geography, and opportunity. Programs exist, but disparities remain stubborn.

2. Brain Health
Now reframed as 'brain health', the crisis persists beyond buzzwords. Around 17% of adults report sustained poor mental health. Emergency visits for suicidal ideation climb alongside drug-related deaths that have doubled since 2015. And yet, care availability remains thin and socially distant.

3. Safe, Active Spaces
Only half of residents feel individually connected to their neighborhoods. Nearly 40% lack access to parks, walking paths, or communal spaces encouraging physical activity or social belonging. Isolation—both emotional and geographic—undercuts civic vitality and well-being alike.

These challenges don’t operate independently. Food scarcity drives illness. Brain health suffers without social infrastructure. And chronic diseases thrive where movement and community falter.

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Roadblocks Not on the Walls—but in the Gaps

Hickory’s strengths collide with structural obstacles:

• Transportation limits are real. Greenway’s public buses and paratransit cover only parts of conurbations like Hickory, leaving many rural or low-income families reliant on irregular transportation options to reach care.

• Digital exclusion remains pervasive. While Spectrum recently expanded gigabit broadband, nearly 30% of eligible county addresses remain unconnected. Without reliable internet, telehealth offers little relief to those beyond clear signal zones.

These gaps curtail the reach of even the best hospitals and policies.

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A Vision: Strategic, Scaled, and Measured

What if local strengths—clinics, public health, momentum—were leveraged address these systemic challenges? Three paths, guided by data and anchored in community insight, suggest a reinforced future:

• Food Access Hubs
  Mobile markets, Double Bucks programs, and SNAP-eligible farmers' markets—already working here—should be funded more robustly. Access becomes both literal nourishment and civic signal.

• Tele-Behavioral Health via NC-STeP
  Statewide, NC-STeP has transformed rural psychiatric care. With growing use and cost savings in the tens of millions, replicating this at home—especially for youth—could reduce ED congestion and erase access deserts.

• Public Spaces that Connect
  Expanding trails, playgrounds, shared gardens, shaded seating, and safe streets responds to isolation, physical health, and belonging. These investments ripple beyond wellness—creating places where people meet, move, and belong.

These actions become meaningful only when measured. The proposed Community Health Equity Initiative would align with CHA metrics—improving produce intake, decreasing mental-health ED visits, and increasing neighborhood belonging—communicated through transparent, annual dashboards.

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Why It Matters for Anyone Who Cares

Civic equity is smart economics. Health equity investments typically yield $10–$14 in societal benefit for every dollar spent. Beyond cost savings, they earn trust, stabilize systems, and cultivate local talent—drawing in families and small business alike.

CVMC and the public health department already offer the capacity and credibility to act. The missing piece isn’t building upwards—it’s filling in horizontally: treating the rural streets, invisible homes, and silent neighbors with the same urgency as the hospital wings.

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Final Thought

Hickory’s health story isn’t one of crisis or triumph—it is one of potential arrested; of progress that can accelerate if civic, corporate, and community actors align now. With strategic investment, the hills and valleys of health data can converge into a rising tide—lifting everyone, not just those already within reach.

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“Further Reading & Reports” -  

Health Culture Landscape in Hickory and Catawba County - Fortune 100 Assessment

News and Views articles on Health Culture in Hickory and Catawba County

 2025 News and Views Features on Health Culture

Executive Summary, Definitions, Description 

Hickory, NC News & Views | October 12, 2025 | Hickory Hound

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HKYNC News & Views Oct 12, 2025 – Executive Summary  

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🧠Opening Reflection: 

For most families, survival is measured not in theory but in the grocery cart. That total at checkout decides whether a household rests easy or trims back elsewhere. Over the past two years, the basket has grown heavier, not through indulgence but through the combined force of economic currents that few can escape. 

 The first current is national. Food prices climbed in the wake of the pandemic, as supply chains buckled and fuel costs rippled through distribution. What once seemed stable—the cost of milk, bread, eggs—now swings unpredictably. Inflation eased for some goods, but groceries remained stubborn, forcing families to pay more for the same table they set five years ago. 

The second current is local. Hickory has long tied its culture to food—church suppers, barbecue traditions, and Sunday tables that once stretched modest paychecks into shared abundance. Yet those traditions sit uneasily against present costs. Food pantries in the county now serve record numbers, and neighborhoods like Long View and Ridgeview face limited access to full-service groceries. A meal that was once an anchor of fellowship has become, for many, an exercise in arithmetic. 

 The third current is income. According to the ALICE report, 41 percent of households in Catawba County live below the level needed to afford basics, food among them. These are not the idle or unemployed but the working families who make the community run. Their wages lag, their expenses climb, and every grocery trip demands trade-offs: fruit or medicine, fresh produce or the gas to get to work. 

The final current is health. When money is short, cheaper calories crowd out nutrition. Processed food and fast meals fill the gaps, but over time they exact their price in obesity, diabetes, and heart strain. Catawba County’s Community Health Assessment confirms what residents already know: cost is the barrier to healthy eating, and health itself bends under that weight. 

Together, these forces form another gear train. National inflation lifts prices; local access constrains options; modest wages squeeze budgets; and health deteriorates under the pressure. Families who once relied on the table for comfort now weigh every purchase against the risk of hunger, debt, or illness. 

This week’s Feature introduces the ALICE report as a lens on food insecurity and health in Hickory. It measures what it means, in concrete terms, for a household to shoulder the cost of the table in 2023, and how those costs reach beyond the grocery aisle into schools, clinics, and neighborhoods. It translates statistics into the arithmetic of the dinner plate and the choices of a paycheck. 

 If the community wishes to preserve its dignity, it must either lighten the basket or strengthen the income. Without that adjustment, the table—once a place of plenty—will become, for too many, a measure of absence.  

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📤This Week:

Monday - (Substack) -  The Foothills Corridor - Chapter 20: Metrics that Matter: Measuring Real Change - For the Foothills Corridor, where energy is precious and attention is scattered, having the right metrics is not just a bureaucratic exercise. It’s a strategic imperative.

 

Tuesday - 🌐⭐ Hickory at the Crossroads: AI, Data, and the Fight for Our Future ⭐️🌐 - The question is whether Hickory will once again drift into decline, or whether we will build the civic architecture to seize a future that rewards us, not bypasses us.

 

 Thursday - 🧱 Factions of Self‑Preservation 6: Unprepared by Design - How Hickory’s Civic Infrastructure Refuses to Plan for the Future

 

Friday -  (Substack) - The Foothill Corridor - Chapter 21: Building an Ecosystem, Not Just a Cluster - Clusters can thrive and still leave people behind. Ecosystems are harder to build, but they’re better at keeping people, talent, and opportunity rooted in place.

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 📤Next Week:

Monday - (Substack) - Part VI - the Narrative & Chapter 22: Branding the Corridor - The Foothills Corridor has long been misunderstood—by outsiders, by media, and sometimes even by itself. Branded as past tense. Talked about as if decline were destiny. Seen through the lens of what left, not what’s being built...  The Foothills Corridor doesn’t need a slick rebrand—it needs a story that reflects its truth. For too long, the narrative around this region has been shaped by outsiders: developers pitching lifestyle fantasy, politicians romanticizing the past, or marketers slapping on slogans that sound nice but say nothing.

 

Tuesday - Dear Rachel – Episode 8: Recovery, Redemption, Risk - The eighth episode of Dear Rachel turns to lives lived at the edge of stability: the recovering addict, the immigrant worker, and the LGBTQ+ neighbor. Together, their voices highlight how survival, identity, and belonging intersect in the Shrinking Center. Yet this episode also acknowledges the other side of the public debate: the desire for boundaries, for balance, for a civic life where tolerance does not spill into capitulation.

 

Thursday -   🧱Factions of Self‑Preservation 7: Fading from the Map -  How Cultural Amnesia Is Quietly Undermining Hickory’s Civic Future - When churches close, libraries move, and local storytellers vanish—Hickory loses its memory, allowing its identity to slip away.

 

Friday -  (Substack) - The Foothills Corridor - Chapter 23: Making the Case to Funders, Investors, and Talent - For the Foothills Corridor to complete its transformation, it must do more than survive—it must attract belief from those who have the power to amplify what’s working. That means making a compelling, confident, and unapologetically local case to funders, investors, and mobile talent who are deciding where to place their money, their energy, or their lives.

 

 

⭐ Feature Story ⭐ 

The Cost of the Table: ALICE and Community Health in Hickory and Catawba County 

ALICE: Financial Hardship in Hickory and Catawba County 

Many households in Hickory and greater Catawba County struggle to afford the basics needed for a modest life. The United Way uses the term ALICE (Asset Limited, Income Constrained, Employed) to describe working households who earn above the Federal Poverty Level but still cannot afford the cost of living in their community[1]. 

 In Catawba County, the latest 2023 ALICE report shows that 29% of households are ALICE (income above poverty but below the survival budget), in addition to 12% of households in official poverty[2]. This means that 41% of all households (over 28,000 households) in the county are below the ALICE Threshold, unable to afford essentials like housing, food, child care, health care, transportation, and technology[3][4]. These families routinely face impossible trade-offs – for example, deciding whether to pay for groceries or a medical bill – just to make ends meet[5][6]. 

This financial hardship is not limited to a few isolated areas; it is pervasive throughout the county, including Hickory. In the city of Hickory, roughly 42% of the 17,300 households were below the ALICE Threshold as of 2023[7]. Other communities face similar or even greater challenges – for instance, in the small town of Long View (just west of Hickory), about 60% of households struggle to afford basic needs[8]. Even in Newton and Conover, two other Catawba County cities, around 45% of households are below the ALICE survival income level[7]. Clearly, a large share of local families – including many who are employed – live on the brink of financial insecurity. 

The trend over time underscores how widespread this issue has become. Back in 2010, Catawba County had around 59,000 total households; by 2023 that grew to 68,000, and the number below the ALICE Threshold also rose[9][10]. The COVID-19 pandemic initially created economic turbulence – wages increased for some jobs, but so did inflation and household expenses – and by 2022 the proportion of households struggling financially had reached 41%, about the same as in 2023[11][12]. In short, roughly two out of every five families in our community cannot afford the cost of living, a situation that has persisted even as the economy recovered from the pandemic. 

The Cost of Living Outpaces Wages 

Why are so many working families struggling? A major factor is that the cost of basic necessities has outpaced wage growth[13]. United Way’s analysis calculates a Household Survival Budget for each county – the bare-minimum monthly costs for housing, child care, food, transportation, health care, technology (basic smartphone plan), plus taxes and a small contingency for misc. expenses[14][15]. This budget does not include any savings or extras – it’s essentially the “cost of the table,” i.e. the cost to put food on the table and cover other essentials, with nothing left for emergencies or future goals[16]. 

 In Catawba County, the survival budget is eye-opening. For a single adult, the minimum budget in 2023 was about $2,409 per month (approximately $28,900 per year)[17][18]. For a family of four (for example, two working adults with an infant and a preschooler), it was roughly $6,759 per month, which is about $81,100 per year[17][18]. To put this in perspective, a Catawba County family of four needs an hourly wage of about $40.55 (if two adults are working full-time) just to afford this no-frills budget[19]. Even a single adult needs about $14.45 per hour full-time to meet basic expenses on their own[20][18]. These required wages are far above the federal minimum wage and well above the Federal Poverty Level. (In 2023 the poverty guideline was only $14,580/year for an individual and $30,000 for a family of four, which is less than half of what it actually costs to live here[21].) 

Local incomes have not kept up with these costs. Catawba’s median household income is around $64,200, which actually falls below the North Carolina state median[22]. Many jobs simply do not pay enough to cover the survival budget. Statewide data shows that 15 of the 20 most common occupations in North Carolina paid under $20 per hour in 2023, and over one-third (35%) of workers in those common jobs lived in households below the ALICE Threshold[23]. These are jobs that we all depend on – cashiers, child-care providers, food service workers, home health aides, retail salespersons, and others – yet the people working them often cannot afford the basic cost of living in their communities[6]. In short, the cost of basics has been rising faster than wages, squeezing household budgets and leaving tens of thousands of Catawba County families one unexpected expense away from crisis[13][5]. 

Financial Insecurity in a Statewide Context 

Catawba County’s situation fits into a broader pattern seen across North Carolina. According to the State of ALICE 2025 report, about 42% of all North Carolina households had incomes below the ALICE Threshold in 2023, once again combining those in poverty (13%) and ALICE (29%)[24]. So in terms of percentage, Catawba’s 41% is roughly on par with the state average. Across North Carolina, that translates to millions of households living paycheck-to-paycheck, juggling expenses, and making difficult choices to get by[5]. Basic costs in North Carolina vary by county, but on average the annual Household Survival Budget for the state is estimated at about $30,300 for a single adult and $80,200 for a family of four – very similar to Catawba’s budget, and more than double the official poverty levels[25]. 

This widespread financial insecurity has profound implications. When 4 in 10 households lack financial stability, it affects local economies and quality of life in every community. As the United Way of NC notes, ALICE families are working hard in critical roles that keep the economy running, yet they remain one emergency away from hardship[6]. Their struggles highlight systemic issues like the lack of affordable child care, expensive housing, and jobs that don’t pay a living wage. Statewide initiatives have pointed out that policies such as higher minimum wages, stronger worker protections, and public investments in necessities (e.g. making child care and housing more affordable) are needed to help these families achieve stability[26][27]. 

 It’s also important to recognize the unequal distribution of hardship among different groups. ALICE data shows that while numerically the largest racial/ethnic groups contribute the most households below the threshold, proportionally certain groups face higher rates of financial hardship[28]. Systemic barriers mean that communities of color, single-parent families, and other vulnerable groups are often over-represented among those struggling. For example, in Catawba County, Black and Latino residents experience food insecurity at significantly higher rates than white residents (around 20–22% for Black and Hispanic populations, compared to about 11–12% overall)[29][30]. Yet paradoxically, those same groups have lower participation in assistance programs like SNAP, due to barriers and stigma[31][32]. Such disparities show that addressing “the cost of the table” is not just an economic issue but also one of equity and access. 

Community Health Impacts and Priorities 

Financial stress and the high cost of living don’t just affect wallets – they also impact health and well-being. Catawba County’s 2023 Community Health Assessment (CHA) process made clear that economic challenges are deeply intertwined with health outcomes. During the CHA, residents voiced concerns about “the cost of living” and “access to healthy, affordable food,” among other issues like housing and mental health[33][34]. In fact, when surveyed, 19% of Catawba County respondents specifically said that access to healthy, affordable food should be a top community focus to improve health and quality of life[35]. This comes as no surprise – a family’s ability to put nutritious food on the table is directly tied to their income and expenses. The assessment noted that cost was the number one barrier to healthy eating for local families[36]. Simply put, when budgets are tight, cheaper, less healthy options often win out, and many households may skip meals or rely on food pantries to get by. 

Food insecurity remains a persistent problem in the area. As of 2021, around 12% of Catawba County’s population experienced food insecurity, a rate slightly higher than the state average (~11.8%)[29]. Children are especially vulnerable – about 13.8% of Catawba’s children were food-insecure, though this was somewhat better than the 15.4% statewide child food insecurity rate[29][37]. Other data reveal how widespread the need is: about 67% of students across all three school districts in the county are economically disadvantaged and qualify for free school meals[38]. Moreover, in certain neighborhoods of Hickory and surrounding towns – for example, parts of Long View, Ridgeview, Southeast Hickory, and East Newton – many residents have limited access to grocery stores or healthy food within their vicinity, compounding the problem[39][40]. (In 2019, roughly 1 in 10 Catawba residents faced this geographic barrier to food access in addition to financial barriers[39].) Programs like SNAP (food stamps) help thousands of families – nearly 24,000 people in Catawba County(about 15% of the population) receive SNAP benefits – but those benefits amount to only about $5.94 per person per day, and not everyone who needs help is accessing the program[41][31]. 

Recognizing these challenges, Catawba County Public Health and its partners have set strategic priorities to improve community health over the next several years. Based on a year-long assessment of data and community input, the top three health priorities identified in the 2023 CHA are: 

• 1) Access to healthy foods, 
• 2) “Brain health” (mental health)
• 3) Ensuring safe, engaging, and active community spaces[42][43]. 

All three are interrelated and “cross-cutting,” meaning progress in one area can support improvements in others. For instance, by increasing access to healthy foods, we not only address nutrition and hunger but also support better chronic disease outcomes and even mental well-being. Indeed, Catawba County has kept access to healthy food as a priority for many years, and while there has been encouraging progress, much more work remains to be done[44]. The renewed focus on “brain health” continues what was previously termed mental health – acknowledging the toll that stress, isolation, and other factors have on residents’ emotional well-being[45][46]. This was heightened by the pandemic: fewer than half of survey respondents in 2023 reported feeling connected to their community, and only about half felt a sense of belonging, highlighting a concerning level of social isolation[47]. 

Finally, the emphasis on safe and engaging spaces is about creating environments (parks, community centers, neighborhoods) that foster connection, physical activity, and safety. Such spaces can mitigate isolation and improve quality of life, especially in areas lacking infrastructure or facing higher crime. They give all residents – regardless of income – a chance to be active and connected in the community[47][48]. 

These health priorities are directly influenced by the economic realities we’ve discussed. Improving access to healthy food, for example, will require tackling affordability and poverty so that every family can consistently put nutritious food on the table. Efforts are underway, from supporting local food pantries and farmers markets in low-income areas to nutrition education programs. Addressing mental “brain” health also means recognizing the chronic stress many ALICE families live with; financial insecurity is a well-known contributor to anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues. Expanding affordable counseling services, support groups, and stress-reduction programs can particularly help those facing economic strain. And making community spaces more accessible and safe often involves investing in underserved neighborhoods – improving housing, transportation, parks, and safety in the very areas where ALICE households are concentrated.

Catawba County’s public health leaders note that these priorities will guide a Community Health Improvement Plan for 2024–2027, with specific action plans in development[49]. The LiveWell Catawba coalition and other partners are coming together to implement strategies around these issues[50]. By focusing on fundamental needs – food, mental health, and community infrastructure – the county hopes to make tangible improvements that lift up those who have been struggling. The ultimate goal is to ensure that every family in Hickory and Catawba County can afford the “cost of the table” – not only putting food on the table, but doing so in a way that supports a healthy, connected life. 

 References (Hyperlinked)

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 Executive Summary — The Cost of the Table Market Basket (1975–2025)  

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My Own Time Ω 

The Measure of a Meal 

Food has always been my background. I’ve spent forty years in professional kitchens, and while some people credit me as a chef, fewer see how that experience connects to the wider issues of economics, culture, and community. That’s fine. In your own hometown, as Scripture says, it’s hard to be recognized beyond the role people assign to you. But food teaches lessons no classroom can, and those lessons matter now more than ever. 

I grew up in a house where food was more than fuel. It was Sunday dinners, Christmas reunions, Friday nights out as a family, backyard barbecues, and the quiet assurance that, however rough the economy looked outside, the table inside would hold steady. My grandparents carried Depression lessons into every dish. We always had a garden—tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, beans—and my grandfather brought apples from Brushy Mountain and treats from Biltmore, tying work and community into the rhythm of meals. Food was business, but it was also culture, continuity, and care. 

 Looking back, maybe some of that is nostalgia. Yet it did feel like food was better then. Today, we have more choices through global trade, but freshness and quality are often sacrificed to scale and speed. Small farms have been displaced by conglomerates; chickens, pork, and beef are mass-produced; even “seafood” is often factory-grown in ponds. Food has become a business of convenience, rushed from farm to truck to shelf, and we all rush alongside it—eating in cars, at desks, or on the go. 

When I walk through a grocery store now, I see numbers my grandparents never imagined. I remember glass-bottle Cokes with pure cane sugar for a quarter. Milk would be far higher than three dollars if not for subsidies. Corn at three ears for a dollar is no bargain when the taste has been engineered out of it. Chicken costs more than steak once did. Fresh produce, when it’s available, carries a premium that forces parents into impossible choices in front of their children. 

The ALICE report makes this clear: 41 percent of households in Catawba County cannot afford the basics, food included. That’s not an abstraction. It plays out in checkout lines, in food pantry traffic, and in the quiet math families work out every week. We pride ourselves on resilience, but resilience cannot erase arithmetic. 

Food sustains life, but it also defines identity. Barbecue came here by way of the West Indies, corn from Central America, pigs and spices from across the seas. Locally, we adapted those traditions to our own soil and culture. The smell of smoke on a Saturday, casseroles carried to neighbors in grief, gardens turned over each spring—these are more than meals. They are rituals of belonging. 

But they are rituals under pressure. Rising costs, stagnant wages, and processed substitutes threaten not just nutrition, but memory, health, and continuity. If the basket becomes too heavy, what is at stake is nothing less than culture, tradition, and community itself. 

That is why I believe we must protect the table as carefully as we guard the roof overhead. Housing, food, and energy are not separate stories; they are entries in the same ledger of survival. And if Hickory hopes to hold its middle together, it must reckon with what it truly costs for ordinary people to live—not just to scrape by, but to find meaning here. Because if we cannot have a meaningful life at the table, then sooner or later, people will move on.

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🍂 Haiku

Harvest rushed to shelf,
prices climb and flavor fades,
taste slain by profit.

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🥠 Fortune Cookie Reading

“The cost of your meal is the measure of your future—guard the table, and you guard the soul of your community.”

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Index of past News and Views - 2025