Hickory, NC News & Views | October 19, 2025 | Hickory Hound

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HKYNC News & Views Oct 19, 2025 – Executive Summary  

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📤This 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.

 

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📤Next Week:

 Monday - (Substack) - The Foothills Corridor - Chapter 24: Reclaiming Control from Charlotte and Raleigh - For decades, the narrative—and the capital—have flowed east and south. Charlotte and Raleigh have dominated political agendas, media attention, and economic development pipelines. The Foothills Corridor has often been treated as an afterthought: too rural to prioritize, too fragmented to organize, too slow to invest in.

 

Tuesday - 🌐⭐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?"

 

Thursday - 🧱 Factions of Self-Preservation 8 (Summary Conclusion): Walls Within - How Hickory Built Defenses Instead of Solutions - Hickory isn’t declining from a single crisis. It’s retreating in slow motion—system by system, choice by choice.

 

Friday -  (Substack) - Chapter 25: The Future Isn’t a Revival—It’s a Reinvention -For all the talk of comebacks and revivals, here’s the truth: the Foothills Corridor is not going back to what it was. The furniture mills aren’t reopening. The textile plants aren’t restaffing. The industrial rhythms of the past century have ended.

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 🧠Opening Reflection:

For most households, the electric bill arrives with the rhythm of the clock—steady, expected, and impossible to ignore. Some months it hovers near ninety dollars; other months it passes one hundred eighty, depending on how hot the air feels or how cold the nights turn. For a two-thousand-square-foot home with an aging HVAC system and the discipline to keep the thermostat at eighty in July, it still hurts. Electricity is not a luxury; it is the invisible current that holds a household together. Yet in Catawba County, the cost of keeping that current flowing has become one of the defining burdens separating the comfortable from the strained, the anchored from the exposed.

The first current is financial. Across North Carolina, energy costs have outpaced wages. Duke Energy’s filings show that residential rates have climbed nearly forty percent since 2000—with the sharpest rise in the past three years as fuel costs, storm recovery, and grid upgrades compound. Hickory follows the same trajectory, but the squeeze here is harder because median incomes sit roughly a quarter below the national average. For many, the light bill now competes with the mortgage, the grocery cart, and the insurance premium. It is no longer a utility line; it is a stress line.

The second current is structural. The Carolinas’ power grid was built for another generation—one before data centers, battery plants, and the twenty-four-hour appetite of the digital economy. Duke Energy’s own plans project load growth of twenty-two to twenty-five percent by 2030, much of it driven by industrial expansion and the arrival of large data campuses, Microsoft among them. Each new substation, turbine, or transmission line built to meet that demand carries costs that eventually flow into household bills. The infrastructure is modernizing, but its burden is still socialized: the ordinary ratepayer becomes the quiet investor in every corporate upgrade.

The third current is technological. The same AI revolution that promises progress is consuming power at an unprecedented scale. Former Google executive Eric Schmidt warned this year that artificial-intelligence computing could outpace U.S. generation capacity within a decade. Hickory sits inside that transformation. The region benefits from jobs and tax base, yet it also shoulders the collateral cost of demand—higher usage, higher rates, and greater vulnerability when the grid strains. The glow from a distant data center is, in part, the household’s own bill reflected back.

The final current is environmental. Every degree of heat and every hour of storm recovery now echoes through the meter. Hurricanes, ice events, and extreme summers test the system, and each repair, fuel adjustment, and reliability investment cycles through as a “rider” on the next statement. Solar and wind are expanding, but the transition is uneven, and low-income households rarely own the panels or batteries that hedge against volatility. The weather changes first; the invoice follows.

Together, these forces form another gear train. Rising rates meet stagnant wages; industrial expansion accelerates demand; aging infrastructure struggles to keep up; and climate swings push costs higher still. The middle that once measured security by home and table now measures it by voltage—by whether the meter can keep spinning without draining the paycheck that powers it.

This week’s Feature applies the Household Comfort Index to energy itself. It traces how much of each income tier’s take-home pay is consumed by the cost of light, heat, and power, and how new industries, technologies, and weather patterns are reshaping that arithmetic. If Hickory wishes to preserve its center, it must plan for energy not only as a commodity but as a covenant. Because when keeping the lights on becomes uncertain, so does everything built beneath their glow.

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 ⭐ Feature Story ⭐

The Cost of Keeping the Lights On

Electricity has always been the hidden rent of the South — cheap enough to keep industry humming, steady enough that households budgeted without thinking. That era is closing.

Bills & Benchmarks. In 2000, a typical Hickory household paid around $80 a month for electricity. By 2025, that same home can see bills cresting $180, even when consumption is carefully managed. For small businesses, bills once in the $400–$600 range now frequently run closer to $1,000 in summer months. Government facilities and schools face the same pressures, with energy costs consuming larger shares of operating budgets.

***Energy costs do not fall evenly across households — they weigh heaviest on those with the least margin. This table shows how the burden of “keeping the lights on” shifts across income tiers, linking the October 19 feature to the broader series on household survival costs.***

 

Household Energy Burden by Status in Hickory

Status	Scale (1–10)	Approx % of Population	Energy Burden (Share of Income)	Typical Monthly Bill (Range)	Energy Realities
Well Off	9–10	~5%	~2–3% of income	$150–$250	Households in newer or energy-efficient homes. Bills manageable, often using smart thermostats, solar panels, or efficient HVAC. Energy costs don’t affect lifestyle; discretionary spending intact.
Comfortable	7–8	~15%	~4–5% of income	$130–$220	Own homes or secure rentals with decent insulation. Cover bills steadily but notice seasonal spikes (summer A/C, winter heat). Can absorb costs, but high surges (fuel, Duke rate hikes) reduce discretionary spending.
Average / Solidly Middle	5–6	~40%	~6–8% of income	$120–$200	Median-income households feel energy costs as a consistent squeeze. Older housing stock and inefficient HVAC common. Bills often rival grocery budgets in winter. Limited ability to invest in upgrades, making them vulnerable to price shocks.
Struggling	3–4	~25%	~10–12% of income	$110–$180	Renters or owners of aging homes. Energy burdens exceed national “affordable” threshold (6%). Choices emerge: heat vs. medicine, A/C vs. groceries. Late payments, arrears, or disconnections common. Reliant on assistance or nonprofits during peaks.
Poverty / Deeply Vulnerable	1–2	~15%	~15–20% of income	$90–$160	Below-poverty households in inefficient rentals or trailers. Bills consume a fifth of monthly income. Little insulation, reliance on space heaters or window A/C. Disconnection risk high; survival strategies include cutting off rooms, using unsafe heating, or turning to shelters.

 

Table Note: Energy burden is shown as a share of household income across five tiers, from Well Off to Deeply Vulnerable. The same $150 bill can be routine for one household but destabilizing for another, illustrating how utility costs shape the broader architecture of survival in Hickory and Catawba County.

 

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 🔑 Key Takeaways

· Well Off (5%): Energy is a minor line-item.

· Comfortable (15%): Noticeable but not destabilizing.

· Middle (40%): Bills create trade-offs and erode cushion.

· Struggling (25%): Bills are a constant stress, often requiring help.

· Poverty (15%): Energy is survival-level—any spike or arrearage risks displacement.

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Drivers. Several factors converge here: (1) higher natural gas prices, which feed into generation costs; (2) capital expenditures for storm-hardening and new lines; (3) insurance and debt costs pushed onto utilities and passed through to ratepayers; and (4) the accelerating demand of data centers and AI clusters, which require around-the-clock power.

Housing Link. For households already stretched, energy is the “new rent.” A Solidly Middle family in Catawba County, earning roughly $60,000, may see 10–12 percent of gross income consumed by electricity, gas, and water combined — double the federal “affordable energy” threshold. Struggling households fall even deeper, facing arrears or choosing between running air in a heat wave and buying groceries.

Capacity Crunch. Eric Schmidt’s testimony laid the problem bare: America is building transmission lines too slowly. In the Carolinas, major high-voltage projects take 15–18 years from plan to completion. AI-driven load growth is arriving in five. The mismatch is stark, and ratepayers are caught in the middle. The explainer chart captures the cycle: AI demand → utility planning → capacity and wires → regulatory rate case → your bill.

Resilience. Communities adapt in small ways — weatherization programs, space heaters instead of central systems, nonprofits helping with arrears — but the structural issue remains. Without expanded capacity and smarter planning, costs will keep drifting upward, and households will keep absorbing the shock.

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Information

· Residential rates in Duke Energy Carolinas: up ~40% since 2000.

· Median household income, Hickory MSA: ~25% below national median.

· Household energy burden: 10–12% of income for Solidly Middle, higher for Struggling tiers.

· Duke IRP (2023): 22–25% load growth projected by 2030–35, much from data centers.

· Transmission buildout: ~18 years average completion vs. 5-year demand window.

· Local household bills: $90–$180/month range, depending on season.

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Solutions Matrix: Who Holds the Levers of Energy Costs and Efficiency

Party	Cost Levers	Technology Options	Efficiency Measures	Policy / Regulatory Tools
Households	Monthly bills, choices about upgrades vs. deferral	Smart thermostats, efficient HVAC, rooftop solar	Weatherization, appliance swaps, reduced phantom load	Access to LIHEAP, PACE financing, utility rebate programs
Small Businesses	Utility overhead, operating costs	Smart meters, efficient lighting, heat pumps	Energy audits, cooperative purchasing	Chamber-backed grants, state tax credits for retrofits
Large Enterprises & Data Centers	Infrastructure cost-sharing, long-term power contracts	Onsite solar, microgrids, battery storage	High-efficiency servers, cooling optimization	Transparent agreements with utilities; negotiated rate structures
Government / Public Sector	Public building energy bills, emergency shelter costs	Public solar installations, backup generators	Retrofits in schools/courthouses, efficiency standards	Rate design (tiered/time-of-use), weatherization funding, municipal co-ops
Utility (Duke Energy, etc.)	Rate cases, capacity investment	Grid-scale renewables, flexible peaker plants, storage	Demand response programs, incentivized customer efficiency	State Utilities Commission oversight; integrated resource planning
Regional / Civic	Shared tax base, community reinvestment	Community solar gardens, microgrids	Cooperative neighborhood weatherization	Civic boards, watchdog engagement, nonprofit advocacy

 

Together, these three things are crystal clear:

1. Energy is not equal in impact – a $150 bill means stability for a Comfortable household but crisis for someone in the Struggling tier.

2. The shrinking middle shows up twice – first in wages and wealth, then again in the disproportionate bite utilities take out of their check.

3. Household reality is more instructive than averages – national or even state statistics blur this out, but these tiered tables reveal the survival math families are actually doing.

It also strengthens the civic argument: when you put this table beside the Cost-of-Home Index or the Cost of the Table (food) piece, readers will see the mapping of the full architecture of household burden. That makes these “News & Views” not just commentary, but a framework ordinary people can plug themselves into.

 

Summary: The Cost of Keeping the Lights On

Hickory has entered a new energy era. What once was the “hidden rent” of the South — cheap, steady power — has become a defining burden for households, small businesses, and public institutions. Bills that once ran $80 are now $180, and in a county where median incomes lag a quarter below the national average, that doubling cuts deep. Energy costs now sort households into tiers of comfort or crisis, as the Household Energy Burden table makes plain: what a Comfortable family absorbs without disruption becomes destabilizing for those living on the edge .

We arrived here through a convergence of forces: steady rate hikes tied to fuel and storm costs, slow but relentless grid upgrades, and now a surge of demand from data centers and AI clusters that utilities admit will outpace generation. Duke Energy’s filings show 22–25 percent load growth in the Carolinas, and Eric Schmidt’s testimony warned of a national mismatch between five-year demand windows and 18-year transmission timelines . These aren’t abstractions — they are the mechanics behind why a local bill keeps rising.

Where we are going depends on how each party acts: households weatherizing, businesses auditing, governments investing, utilities planning honestly, and civic groups pushing for fair agreements. The Solutions Matrix shows the levers available. Yet the larger context is clear: energy is no longer background noise but a front-and-center line item that will shape survival, equity, and growth. Hickory’s story is part of a wider map — the architecture of household burden that will soon tie electricity, food, housing, and healthcare together in one unavoidable ledger.

 

Implications: The Consequences of Rising Energy Burdens

The rising cost of electricity is not a side issue — it is a fulcrum point for household survival, local business viability, and public trust. If current trajectories hold, Hickory and Catawba County will feel the following effects:

Households
Rising bills erode disposable income, forcing trade-offs between food, rent, and heat. Vulnerable families already spend up to 15–20% of income on utilities. Continued increases will accelerate utility shutoffs, unsafe coping practices, and displacement risks for renters.

Local Economy
Small businesses face energy as a second rent, squeezing margins in already tight markets. The city’s competitive edge as a low-cost place to live and invest weakens if electricity rates rise faster than incomes, deterring new employers and pushing prices up for consumers.

Public Sector
Government facilities, schools, and public safety agencies absorb higher utility costs, diverting resources from staffing and programs. Slow capacity expansion heightens the risk of outages and service interruptions, especially during seasonal peaks.

Civic and Generational Cohesion
As energy burdens compound with food and housing pressures, household stability frays. Younger families may leave, older residents will struggle to age in place, and inequities deepen between those who can afford efficiency upgrades and those who cannot.

Summary
The cost of keeping the lights on is not just a budget line. It is a dividing line that shapes whether Hickory can hold its families, sustain its businesses, and trust its institutions — or whether rising bills fracture the community further.

 

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  My Own Time Ω 

Power and the Price of Living:

The hum of electricity has followed me my whole life — at home, in kitchens, the sound of the hood, the drone in the walk-ins, the quiet rhythm of an air-conditioning current cutting through a hot, humid Southern night. When I was young, power was the one thing we never worried much about. You flipped a switch, and it worked. The bill got paid, and it stayed that way. Stability was measured by what stayed on — the lights, the job, the faith that tomorrow would more or less look like today. Even through hard times, when you looked back, things somehow found a way to get better.

Now, sometimes, that hum feels different. It sounds like the clock ticking on another bill, another climb, another trade-off — a payment that relentlessly comes due. The electric bill has become a mirror reflecting the strain on everything else — the grocery total, the mortgage, the doctor or dental visit we delay because of the budget. The same current that keeps the fridge cold also powers the data centers that make this computer work possible. Rising in our modern background, we exist somewhere between this strange new world and the reality of a household being priced out of its stability.

What does this mean here, in Hickory? This was a city that prided itself on not being wasteful. That was our ingenuity. We were efficient. That’s what small manufacturers did in the twentieth century. They had a “make it happen” mindset.

This community has weathered hard times before — recessions and layoffs — patchworking what it couldn’t afford to fix at the moment and running the air sparingly in the summer heat when necessary. But this new kind of strain represents a new normal. It’s quieter, more persistent, and harder to fight. This isn’t the old business cycle where you knew business would eventually pick up. That doesn’t happen when the company is gone. We’ve spoken about the middle drifting, treading water — and that is exhausting and eventually overwhelming.

In my own life, I’ve learned that every bill carries two numbers: the amount owed, and the time in hours it takes to pay it. When those two drift apart and the bank account tightens, the center of a person’s life starts to wobble. You see it in the faces of workers coming off a double shift, in the parents figuring out how to stretch the food budget when the utility bills run high. That’s not just inflation — that’s erosion.

Power used to be a utility. Now it’s a test of endurance and tolerance. The electric bill has become another form of rent. The dynamics I’ve been addressing have direct effects on one another, and all are necessities. The cost of shelter, the cost of food, now the cost of energy — and next, the cost of health. Which of these is optional? Shelter? Food? Electricity? Healthcare?

Because what happens when the strain that starts in the wallet works its way into the body? When the cost of living becomes the cost of being? These are the truest and most personal existential crises — the kind that can push a person over the edge. And these are issues that I will make proposals to address.

 

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

 If this matters…

Comment. Send a letter you'd like me to post. Like the Hickory Hound on my various platforms. Subscribe. Share it on your personal platforms. Share your ideas with me. Tell me where you think I am wrong. If you'd like to comment, but don't want your comments publicized, then they won't be. I am here to engage you.

Get in touch: hickoryhoundfeedback@gmail.com

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