Photos by Kyle Green | The Roanoke Times

Robin Decker saved diligently and had very little debt, but she has struggled after being laid off twice in the past year.

Robin Decker of Stewartsville looks over food stored in Mason jars below her basement steps. After Decker was laid off last spring, she and her husband, Bill, began growing a large garden and baking their own bread to save money.

Last fall when the housing crisis hit George Waldrop's title examination business, he called his older brother, a DNA researcher in Portland, Maine.

"If things get worse, I could be in danger of losing my house," Waldrop said.

Not to worry, his brother assured him; Waldrop could always count on him for help.

Last month, big brother lost his job. "He's 60, he's a genius, and he's scared," Waldrop said.

As the recession worsens, Waldrop and others like him in the Roanoke region find themselves worrying about its potential spiraling effects: unemployment, loss of home and what some perceive to be the ultimate low -- asking for help from a family member, friend or human services agency.

"I was taught you don't take handouts," Waldrop said. "But the bottom line is, if it got bad enough, I would."

Bad enough has already become a reality for many -- the Roanoke region alone has already reported more than 1,000 layoffs since October. Area human-service workers report a steady flow of people who have never had to ask for help before in their lives.

Roanoke's Rescue Mission welcomes three to eight first-timers each day. Shelter requests are up 20.6 percent from last year.

From her desk at Roanoke Area Ministries, emergency financial aid screener Kathy Finnegan finds herself handing out more tissues than ever to the recently unemployed:

A hospital worker who had held the same job for 25 years; a chef whose bartender wife was keeping the family afloat -- until she was diagnosed with stage-two cancer.

"With close to half the people we're seeing here, it's the first time they've ever had to ask for help," Finnegan said. "They're used to donating, not receiving."

When Tom Hornby's gas was cut off last year, the former roofing company owner turned to RAM and the Salvation Army for help.

"I went down there and said, 'When do I need to pay this back?' And they said, 'Well, you don't.'

"When I was in business, for 30 years, I had donated money to them," said Hornby, who has resorted to odd jobs and temp agency work. With construction at a virtual standstill and a foreclosure notice in his mailbox, the Roanoke County roofer has found himself in danger of losing the roof over his own head.

"I never thought I'd have to do this, but I've even had to go to food banks.

"It humbles you real quick."

'Much obliged'

Americans have never been good at asking others for help, men especially. Virginia Tech psychology professor Danny Axsom recalled the "Buchanan syndrome" of 1985: James River floodwaters destroyed homes and endangered lives, and yet some still refused to seek Red Cross shelter and financial aid.

"To ask for help can be humiliating, especially if it's an older person who may have gone their whole lives being independent and providing for others," Axsom said.

Some don't request help because they fear that too many strings will be attached. After all, one of the synonyms for "thank you" is "much obliged."

Because people don't usually advertise the fact that they have just gone to RAM or the Rescue Mission, others may find themselves thinking that they are the only ones in need, Axsom said.

One thing that makes it easier to receive can be to help others yourself -- and not necessarily quid pro quo to your benefactor. "If you give blood or if you volunteer hours somewhere, by virtue of doing those things you may feel as though the balance sheet is more favorable," Axsom said.

Tech's consumer affairs professor Irene Leech agreed, comparing the exchange to family care-giving situations: "I try to do my part helping folks near me who need it knowing that one day I may need it myself."

Leech, who also heads the Virginia Citizens Consumer Council, credits the growth in payday lending in part to Americans' resistance to asking for help. "A lot of these people could be asking families or their churches for money, but so many of us would rather do things ourselves and not have to ask for help ... not thinking about the 365 APR [annual percentage rate in interest] they'll be paying down the line," Leech said.

Radford social worker Rhonda Seltz battles the phenomenon constantly. As an outreach worker for FAMIS, the state's free insurance program for needy children, she routinely struggles to coax pride-bound parents into applying for the program.

"It would be different if this was some type of luxury, but I mean this is health care for children we're talking about. I have to literally beg some people that this is something they've worked all their lives for and paid taxes toward, and this is finally the opportunity to have their tax money brought back to them."

Diane Kelly, director of Mental Health America of Roanoke Valley, said calls to her office have doubled in recent months. "They're not saying that the economy's the reason, but when jobs are lost there are more people without health insurance, which is going to mean more calls to our free clinic."

People who were anxiety-prone before the recession are more likely to be struggling now, she added.

Best-laid plans

Even those who have prepared for a rainy day can find themselves caught in a storm. Robin Decker thought she had done everything right. She and her husband, Bill, had six months' worth of living expenses saved in the bank. The Stewartsville couple had had very little debt and had even paid their mortgage three months ahead.

But when the company Decker worked for started laying people off last spring, she lost her job. At 50, she found herself competing unsuccessfully for administrative assistant jobs with recent college graduates.

In November, she finally found another job, scanning documents for an imaging company. But last week, she was laid off, again.

With her husband's income from appraising real estate down by 75 percent, he took a part-time job at Burger King. "We're just blessed that our mortgage is really low [$500 a month] and if we had to we could both work $7-an-hour jobs to make ends meet," she said.

They had already cut expenses back tremendously, growing a huge garden and accepting gifts of freezer meat from their friends. They grind their own grain, bake their own bread and keep a fire going in the basement wood stove so they can turn the thermostat down to 67, wear sweatshirts and still keep warm.

The Deckers thought they were living frugally -- until they received their latest electric bill for $300, up from $180 the same time last year. They didn't apply for emergency utility assistance because they thought the money in their 401(k)s would have to be cashed out first in order to qualify. (Bedford County Social Services Director Leighton Langford said the 401(k) would only be a factor if Decker were drawing money from it, which she's not.)

Her mother was so worried about them that she offered to loan them money. "But we'd have to be pretty bad off before we took money from my 72-year-old mom," Decker said.

Finnegan at RAM said she admires people who take jobs that many would consider "beneath" them. "I hate that they might have to do that, but sometimes you just have to do what needs to be done."

She has grown accustomed to seeing first-timers at RAM look over their shoulders -- to make sure no one sees them there.

"I remind them, 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' " she said. "But a lot of times, all you can do is just hold their hands and let them feel another touch that tells them that hope is alive. If enough of us pull together and do the right thing, we will get by."