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Then, as one day rolls into the next and February turns to March and my journal sits empty, I decide that like the other journals, this one will be filled with life as it is. I’m not going to hold back or sugar-coat it. The truth is that it’s hard right now. Food prices have skyrocketed, and I have to stop baking extra bread because it’s too expensive to buy the ingredients. We also have to cut back on our visits out to Mrs. McKinley’s because the cost of gas is too high. We have to prioritize, and putting away enough money to buy seeds and rent the land from Pam is our priority.
But I can’t help resenting that we have to pinch our pennies so much. “You know,” I tell Scott one night after Morgen’s asleep, “I should be earning more than I am.”
“Yeah, you should.”
“I don’t expect to get rich working at a non-profit, but I’d like to be able to bake bread when I want to, you know?”
“Ask for a raise,” Scott says. “You won’t get one unless you ask for it.”
So I go into Joan’s office the next morning. “I know I accepted the position with this wage,” I tell her, “but the cost of living keeps increasing so much and it’s getting really hard to get by. Plus the station is bringing in so much more money now. We can afford to pay the staff a livable wage.”
I want to continue making my case, but she interrupts me. “The board of directors is already planning on giving everyone a dollar raise soon.”
“That’s nice,” I tell her, “but I’m talking about a real raise. I’m talking about the station re-thinking its whole wage philosophy. Not just for me, but for everyone, I’m thinking of an increase of like fifty percent. That wouldn’t even bring us up to the low end of any sort of corporate job’s salary.”
She laughs as though I’m kidding. “That’s not going to happen. We’re publicly funded.”
“Don’t you think the public wants us to be taken care of?”
Her brow is furrowed. “People expect that if you choose to work for a non-profit, you agree not to earn much money.”
“I don’t think that has to necessarily be the case. Just because we work for the public good doesn’t automatically mean that we have to struggle. Why not change that? Make a statement about valuing the people who work hard for the public good. Help turn things around by supporting those who dedicate themselves to making things better.”
“It’s not going to happen,” she says. “The board is already hesitant about the dollar raise. I had to push for you guys to get that, so be grateful for it.”
End of discussion, I guess. She turns toward her computer and I go back to my office in the back of the building. Be grateful. I am grateful. An extra dollar an hour will help. But it’s not going to change things. It’s not going to allow us to stop worrying about money, or for Scott to stay home with us in the evenings so we can have more family time.
I try to forget about it and get on with my work. I have a huge list to get through. I sit at my little desk and write grants and make phone calls all day. I present arguments for support and highlight all the ways we work to serve the overall well-being of the area. I tell everyone about how great the radio station is and how they should support it.
“It’s a great source of connection,” I say into the phone as I sit alone in my office at the back of the building. What I don’t tell them is that despite the station’s efforts, the issues are still there, unresolved. The community still needs local food production and livable wages, and I happen to know firsthand that people are still going hungry.
On Friday nights, when Scott’s at work, Morgen and I splurge and drive out to see Mrs. McKinley. We pack up a nice plate of left-overs and Morgen carries it on her lap the whole way.
“I was hoping you’d come!” Mrs. McKinley says, coming out to greet us.
“Of course! It’s our date night,” I joke, handing her the gift of food.
She always has a gift for Morgen, too: an old silver spoon, a faded postcard with a pretty picture, or an antique button. She always lets Morgen look around the living room first, and then she asks, “What do we have here?” as though she has just discovered it instead of having put it there before we arrived. Then she hands the item to Morgen and says, “Well, I think you should have this.” Morgen’s almost five, and I think she might know that the items have been placed there for her. But she doesn’t let on. It’s a special little game they play.
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