Mr. Moo Moo is in storage.

Ally, who is 8 and has been living in motels since October, would like to hold him again.

Her mom, Misty Blades, said the purple stuffed cow was lost after they were given an eviction notice. They had 10 days to pack everything and leave their northwest Salem rental home. Mr. Moo Moo was put in a hastily-packed box, but Blades doesn’t know which one. She’d go get him, if she knew.

In February, four months after becoming homeless, Blades recounted her experience working each day, trying and failing to find a new place to live for herself, her daughter, her live-in caregiver and her dog, Angel.

Theirs is one of around 140 households in Salem and Keizer who have a coveted Section 8 voucher in hand, but nowhere to spend it. 

The voucher, a federal rental subsidy, is the most common way that low-income people can get help affording a place to rent. It gives them a set amount of money each month to put toward rent anywhere in the private market. Landlords are paid directly by the Salem Housing Authority, and families pay whatever balance remains.

The housing authority has just under $34 million to spend on an estimated 3,000 vouchers this year. The agency checks monthly to see if it can issue more vouchers based on what’s being spent.

The voucher ensures that families won’t spend more than 30% of their household income on rent. It covers the difference between what the family can afford and market rent, with maximum amounts set. For a family in Salem looking for a three-bedroom apartment, that maximum would be $2,255 per month, according to housing authority data.

The local waitlist is closed to new applicants as of late February. It can take years for someone in line to get a voucher. Some are already living in a home or apartment and are looking for rent support or to move, and some are homeless. After the long wait, there’s still no guarantee of securing a place to live.

Instead, families like Blades’ have about four months to find a home or apartment. They must cover the cost of application fees themselves. Prospective renters often face barriers: a rental history landlords frown upon, a poor credit score and an inability to pay the full up-front security deposit.

Their applications compete against everyone else in Salem searching for a place to live. Federal rules allow one 60-day extension to find housing. After that, the family loses the voucher.

Around 60% of people with a voucher in hand are able to find a home in the first month, according to Jessica Blakely, the Salem Housing Authority’s deputy director. 

Success becomes less likely after, Blakely said.

And that’s with an expert on their side. The housing authority’s landlord navigator, Nikki Burdette, works full time to help families find a landlord that will take them, even with blemishes on their rental history. Many are automatically screened out by landlords’ requirements, which typically include no recent evictions or criminal history.

“A lot of these people are being judged for things in the past and aren’t given an opportunity to build their future, and that’s what’s frustrating. There’s just no real in-between,” Burdette said. 

Burdette has worked with Blades since November, when the Salem mom reached out for advice about a potential scam listing. After Burdette looked into it herself, calling the landlord several times with no answer, she advised Blades against paying any application fee without taking a tour first. The landlord wouldn’t agree to one. 

In the months since, Burdette has seen the family through several attempts to secure a rental, with little progress. 

In one instance, Blades missed out on a rental she qualified for because another one of Burdette’s other clients called a few minutes earlier. The navigator has a long list of families all vying for the same few apartments.

Burdette said she’s seen the effort Blades puts toward finding somewhere to rent.

“It definitely wasn’t a lack of her trying by any means,” Burdette said. “It’s just unfortunately barriers that are preventing her from getting approved.”

‘A vicious cycle’

The constant roar of traffic from Interstate 5 blankets the Salem Days Inn motel off of Northeast Market Street, the latest place Blades’ household has landed. 

At night, she can see the same cars pull over on the side of the freeway, their drivers coming back cyclically to park and sleep. There’s a small cluster of tents just beyond the motel’s chain-link fence.

Blades knows that life.

Now 43, Blades was homeless in Fresno, California, during her early 30s. She’d lost custody of her older children, and said she drank to stop feeling that loss. She went hungry, and recalled setbacks including moving from campsite to campsite after police officers would tell her to pick up what she could carry then and there. They’d throw out the rest, an ongoing practice in the Fresno area.

It was striking to Blades how officers treated survival items and clothing donated by the community like garbage, when those belongings had kept her alive.

“They don’t care if it’s your kids’ pictures. They don’t care what it is,” she said of the camp sweeps she experienced. “It’s a vicious cycle.”

Blades said she got out of that cycle by moving to Alaska around 2016, where her mom lived. She moved into a shelter, went to rehab, got sober and got her housing voucher. Two years later, she moved to Salem to be with her four older children.

“All it takes for anyone to be homeless is one wrong decision. One wrong decision that turns into two.”

–Misty Blades

She lived in several different apartments and got to know the struggles of the local shelter system while attempting to find a place for her brother, who was experiencing homelessness and using a wheelchair due to cerebral palsy. 

She said he spent three years on waitlists, including for Church at the Park’s microshelters, before landing a housing option in Woodburn instead. As of this month, there were 2,766 people on Church at the Park’s waitlist for its adult microshelter site in Salem.

Blades’ life experience and the people she’s met have taught her that anyone can become homeless after a single disruption.

“All it takes for anyone to be homeless is one wrong decision. One wrong decision that turns into two,” she said. “All it takes is one major thing to go wrong with somebody who has a limited income, and then that sets them off completely. And there’s no resources out there to help them.”

For Blades, that came in October, after failing a rental inspection which she was unprepared for during an overwhelming time in her life. Her car had been broken into, her purse was stolen and her previous live-in caregiver moved out. 

She said she was given a 10-day notice to leave. She had nowhere to go.

Since losing their home, they’ve been moving from hotel to hotel while looking for a new place to live. She pays for rooms using the total of $900 in disability benefits she gets per month, and money her mom sends from Alaska. The family also gets food benefits, and was among those impacted by payment delays in November.

They moved between about six motels before settling at the Days Inn in December.

Blades said she’s not sure how long the pattern of moving between motels will hold, and whether it ends with her back out on the streets.

“By the grace of God, I’m not there right now,” she said.

Ally, Blades’ daughter, stayed mostly quiet, playing Roblox on her tablet, sitting on the motel bed as her mom described countless phone calls with service providers and landlords, and the let-downs, to Salem Reporter. Angel, their dog, was a sentry on the other bed.

“All our stuff is in storage,” Blades said.

“I really want my Mr. Moo Moo,” Ally interjected. They were her first words since the beginning of the interview. She didn’t look up from her game.

“I know, baby,” Blades said.

When Blades started explaining Mr. Moo Moo’s importance as the lifelong companion and security blanket for her daughter, who is autistic, her phone rang and interrupted her. It was the doctor’s office, confirming an appointment.

Blades estimated that she spends over 60 hours a week making phone calls to find housing, maintaining appointments and applying to apartments.

She’s been providing landlords with a cover letter, guided by a Rent Well program she took at the suggestion of Burdette, the housing authority navigator.

The Portland-based program is a series of 12 classes that informs tenants of their rights and helps prepare them for applications. The course also teaches tenants how to build relationships with landlords and neighbors, and to care for the property.

Burdette said the program also alleviates the sense of risk for landlords when accepting applications from people who may have a complicated rental history. Aside from proof that the tenant has taken a course in responsibility, landlords are guaranteed $5,000 to cover any damages, unpaid rent or legal fees from a graduate in their first year beyond the security deposit.

“It’s basically risk elimination,” Burdette said, and one of the best tools in her toolkit when pitching a client to a landlord. “But even providing this information to landlords, not all of them are very open to it.”

Blades said the classes were helpful, especially for learning about her rights as a tenant.

Blades’ resume shares the circumstances of her move-out notice, background on her health needs and references including her caregiver’s employer, Blades’ therapist, her daughter’s therapist, a family coach from the Oregon Department of Human Services and a former housing manager. It also includes a request for reasonable accommodations due to her disabilities under fair housing laws, and information about the benefits of the Rent Well course.

Despite having a child in need of a stable home, and despite having a voucher guaranteeing she can pay a sizable portion of rent, Blades hasn’t been able to secure a place that will accept her with her low credit score and limited income.

Ally talks about living in motels like it’s a kind of adventure, Blades said, which is relieving in a way. 

Her daughter enjoys swimming in the pool, and they’ve had friends visit to use it. While playing tag with Salem Reporter’s photographer, Ally made a beeline for a large puddle and stomped through it. She goes through more changes of clothes most days than other kids, and Blades doesn’t mind doing the extra loads of laundry.

“She doesn’t see us as the homeless people holding signs,” Blades said. “We still have a car, we still have food. She notices that they don’t.”

But she also knows it’s been a challenge for Ally.

The room itself has little personal space. The noises get overwhelming. In February, there was loud construction going on upstairs, and Blades jumped when a rolled up rug was thrown from the railing, slamming against the pavement.

All their food, non-perishables from the Salem-Keizer School District’s program for homeless students, are piled in a cardboard box underneath a small table by the door.

“I want something cooked,” Blades said. “I want to be able to sit at home and be comfortable, and not be in my bed while I eat my dinner.”

Blades misses privacy. She misses silverware, and dishes. They have a waffle maker in the bathroom, balancing on the sink. She misses having a few extra dollars to take her daughter out to have fun. Ally’s birthday was in November, and she still hasn’t gotten a party.

When Ally gets overwhelmed, the small bathroom is the only place she can shut herself away for privacy and quiet.

Blades isn’t getting much sleep either. She has post-traumatic stress disorder and is a survivor of domestic violence. Though the dog offers Blades a feeling of protection, she still finds herself getting out of bed multiple times a night to check for danger out the window.

It’s why they’re looking to rent a three-bedroom apartment: so Ally, Blades and the live-in caregiver can have personal space to accommodate their needs.

So far, no luck.

Common barriers

Burdette, the landlord navigator, spends all day, most days, on the phone.

When someone in Salem is given a Section 8 voucher, they’re also given her contact information. She’s actively assisting 70 households as of Feb. 27, and her list of clients is constantly rotating.

When trying to match a client with a home, Burdette has a list of landlords she knows are more accommodating. Most are smaller private landlords that she finds on websites like Craigslist, Zillow, Hot Pads and Affordable Housing.

“I will reach out to landlords, trying to advocate for voucher holders, asking if they’re willing to lower their rent amount because it exceeds (the client’s) allowable limits,” Burdette said. “Some successful, some not.”

She also educates landlords about what vouchers mean for them, and asks them to be more flexible for clients who are often just slightly below their application standards. Under Oregon law, landlords can’t deny an applicant just because a renter uses a voucher.

There are some common misunderstandings among both landlords and those with rental subsidies. Frequently, she informs both parties that families only need an income three times their portion of the rent, not three times the full rent on the lease. 

Her clients have a wide range of needs, she said. Some are homeless, some are facing an eviction.

The fastest she’s successfully matched a client with a rental was less than a day. Other times, she can’t find the right fit before time runs out, and they lose their housing voucher.

“I’m working with a homeless individual who had to file an extension. You only get one extension for (60 days), and he has just been rejected, rejected, rejected over and over due to rental history because of a situation that was pretty much blamed on him,” she said. “It’s a he-said, she-said thing, so unfortunately landlords win. Tenants don’t.”

To help her client’s case, she’s working with an advocate from Marion County’s Law Enforcement Assisted Diversion Program to help plead his case to landlords.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to find him housing, because his allowable limits are low, he has no job and he has negative credit and negative rental history. So he has absolutely everything against him, other than he’s not a criminal,” she said. “It’s really the luck of the draw, if I can find somebody that’s willing to work with cases like this.”

Security deposits remain a significant challenge for renters who do get approved.

Blades said the money she could have used for that was drained by application fees. On a few occasions, she was matched with an apartment but couldn’t afford the requested deposit.

Financial support for security deposits is virtually nonexistent in Salem. The few options Burdette knows of are out of money, including the Mid-Willamette Valley Community Action Agency, which hasn’t offered deposit-only assistance since 2023, according to Breezy Poynor, who manages their housing program. 

Most financial assistance programs don’t help cover deposits, typically because of restrictions, said Stephen Goins, chief operations officer for Northwest Human Services.

He said they’re able to offer some deposit help using more flexible money from the Willamette Health Council, but most of that fund assists families with rent and utilities to help keep them in their homes.

Last month, Northwest Human Services screened 433 applications, and were only able to help 37 households.

“More money for staffing and assistance is desperately needed,” Goins said in an email.

The Salem Housing Authority’s own security deposit assistance program ended in July 2025 after temporary funding ran out.

Burdette said the Polk Community Resource Center, ARCHES, Northwest Human Services and Easterseals Disability & Community Services have been some of her strongest resources in the community for helping clients get over housing barriers. But everyone has limited resources.

“There’s just not a lot of help,” Burdette said. “Not a whole lot of resources that I have in my back pocket.”

Burdette worked in property management for nearly three decades before she joined the Salem Housing Authority in 2021. She said she’s learned a lot about navigating the market while on the job, along with personal experience trying to help family members.

“When it comes down to it, we need more flexibility with landlords,” Burdette said. “To just give a second chance. They just need a second chance to start over.”

In the meantime, she’ll continue to keep sharing information about the programs that can help mitigate risk for landlords.

When asked how many hours a week she worked, Burdette began to cry. It’s a full time position, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

“It’s hard. When my day ends, it doesn’t,” she said. “It’s very difficult for me to enjoy my day knowing that there are people out there that are suffering.”

As of Thursday, Feb. 26, Burdette had set up a potential rental for Blades. If it pans out, it won’t be available for at least a month.

Though Blades faced frustration and dead-ends with many of the calls she’s made since October, Burdette wasn’t one of them.

“She’s been super helpful. As helpful as she can be,” Blades said. “She can’t do things that are out of her bounds to do.”

But, despite both their best efforts, there aren’t resources available to close the gaps that have so far prevented Blades from affording to get her foot in the door.

“It all feels for naught, you know? Because here I sit,” Blades said. 

Blades said she still sometimes gives money to people holding cardboard signs on the side of the road. She remembers what it was like to be hungry. Back in Fresno, she’d never hold a sign herself until she got desperate.

Each time she gives them money, Ally asks her why.

“I tell her, ‘Because they don’t have anything to eat,’” Blades said.

One day, when the motel is behind them, Blades wants to apply for a grant and start her own nonprofit for people in her situation. She wants people to have somewhere to turn when they need money for deposit assistance, or car payments or help keeping their credit score up.

“I don’t know how to do this, but I’m going to try,” Blades said.

RELATED COVERAGE:

Few affordable apartments are vacant in Salem, unlike Portland

Church at the Park reports over half of its departing residents moved on to homes, supportive programs and shelters

CORRECTION: A previous version of this story misstated the length that a voucher can be extended. It is 60 days, not 30. Salem Reporter apologizes for the error.

Contact reporter Abbey McDonald: [email protected] or 503-575-1251.

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