No reason for neighbors to go to their beds hungry Greg Bean Coda Although I'm in a business where most people don't get rich, my working wife and I have managed to raise three kids, put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. And while there have been plenty of times when we lived paycheck to paycheck, weeks when we watched our pennies and planned our trips to the grocery store pretty carefully, there was only one short period in my life when I was what you could consider below the poverty line poor. I was in graduate school at the time and determined to make it on my own without any help from my family. If I recall correctly, my monthly teaching stipend from the university was $320, and out of that money I had to pay for everything - food, rent, gas, clothing, phone, medical bills, car repairs, food for the dogs. If there was anything left over, I spent it on entertainment, which meant that once a month, I could go down to the Buckhorn Bar to eat a cheeseburger and drink a couple of draft beers while I watched football on television (I lived out in the country where there was no reception). My poverty forced me to be creative when it came to groceries. I hunted wild game for most of my meat, kept a little garden and made my food allowance stretch at the market. I discovered, for example, that for about $4, I could buy the pinto beans and bacon to make enough bean soup to last a week. I waited for the 12-box special on mac and cheese. Drank Kool-Aid instead of soda (I kept it in a half-gallon wine bottle so it would look more sophisticated). Brewed coffee by the cup instead of the pot. Made a deal with a friend at the bakery to buy his day-old bread and sweet rolls at a deep discount. Learned a heck of a lot about rice. Once, I even tried to make my own peanut butter (a disaster) and my own pronghorn antelope sausage (an even bigger disaster). I don't look back on those times as a nightmare, however. In fact, they taught me a lot about self-reliance and the value of a dollar. And I was never in danger of starving. I always knew I had my family to fall back on if things got really bad. Although I didn't want to ask, I knew my folks would send me grocery money, or doctor money, or gas money in an emergency. Even after I was married and had kids, we always knew our families were there if we needed them, and more than once we did. I can't imagine the terror of going through life without that kind of safety net, but millions of people in this country do. And most of us simply cannot comprehend the challenges they face, or the soul-crushing desperation of looking into an empty cupboard and then into the eyes of a bunch of hungry children. Recently, Rep. Jim McGovern (D-Mass.) and Rep. Jo Ann Emerson (R-Mo.), co-chairpersons of the House Hunger Caucus, called on fellow lawmakers to take what they called the Food Stamp Challenge in order to raise awareness about the inadequacy of the nation's food stamp program. The challenge was simple: try to live for a week on $21 worth of groceries ($3 a day, $1 a meal), the amount the average food stamp recipient gets each week. Needless to say, there weren't many takers (only four, two of them the sponsors) for the challenge, and those who accepted it were in for a real surprise. They bought a lot of spaghetti and peanut butter, corn meal for polenta, rice and tuna with no mayo. And while they realize that a single week of relative deprivation isn't enough to make them really understand the challenges of poverty or hunger, they do hope it will spur debate and help pass legislation McGovern and Emerson have introduced to add $4 billion to the nation's annual food stamp budget. "There's an urgency to this issue, and it needs to be front and center…" McGovern told The Washington Post. "It's not enough to say there is no money. You've got to find money. People should not go hungry in the United States." I agree with McGovern and hope he gets the money. But even if he does, it won't provide the kind of safety net millions of Americans living below the poverty line need. It won't keep enough food on the table. It's up to us - at least those of us blessed with relative abundance - to mend the weak strands of that net and keep the hungry from falling through. It's simply not enough to contribute a few cans of creamed corn at Thanksgiving and put it out of our minds the rest of the year. Luckily, in New Jersey, there are dozens, if not hundreds of ways to help put food in the mouths of those in need. Many churches in Monmouth, Middlesex and Ocean counties have their own food or meal programs, but here are a few of the larger organizations. Donations of food are almost always welcome. Donations of money are better. + Elija's Promise , 18 Neilson St., New Brunswick. Phone (732) 545-9002. Accepts food donations. Needs volunteers. Web: www.elijapromise.org. + Lunch Break, 121 Drs. James Parker Blvd., Red Bank. Phone (732) 747-8577. Accepts food, clothing and monetary donations. Needs volunteers. On the Web at www.lunchbreak.org. + Open Door, 39 Throckmorton St., Freehold. Phone (732) 780-1089. Accepts food and monetary donations. See what items they suggest at their Web site: www.freeholdareaopendoor.org. + FoodBank of Monmouth and Ocean Counties, 3300 Route 66, Neptune. Phone (732) 918-2600. Accepts monetary and food donations. Needs volunteers, corporate support. On the Web at: www.foodbankmoc.org. + Community FoodBank of New Jersey, 31 Evans Terminal Road, Hillside. Phone: (908) 355-0270. Accepts monetary donations and food donations from individuals, supermarkets with surplus, etc. This is the largest provider of groceries to charities in New Jersey, about 24 million pounds annually to some 1,500 pantries, soup kitchens, homeless shelters and other organizations. Will pick up some donations. Web: www.njfoodbank.org. That isn't a complete list, but it's a start. I challenge you to make a donation, and make a difference at a hungry family's table. Let's help make the safety net strong. Gregory Bean is executive editor of Greater Media Newspapers. You can reach him at gbean@gmnews.com.