Just Tell Me How Much

This week I filled my gas tank and did my weekly shopping, trying to understand how gas could be $5.49 a gallon, and a tank (12 gallons), now costing me upwards of $60 to fill. My shopping list was modest and included eggs, half and half, canned goods, fresh fruit (where I paid over $1.00 for a single peach), and an indulgence of three in-house soups made in the deli. I came home with a bag full of groceries and paid a little over $80, with a 10% discount because I am over 65.

As if these weren’t sufficient insults to my bank account, I received previews of what my homeowner’s insurance premium and earthquake insurance premiums are going to be for the coming year. My homeowner’s premium went up 79%—actually less than what some of my fellow Californians have had to absorb in doubled premiums—while my earthquake premium rose a more modest 3%.

Having Set the Stage . . .

All this brings me to an all too familiar spot. How do I make my income stretch further? This isn’t a tabletop exercise. This isn’t a case study. This is the everyday experience of most people I know. It is not an exaggeration to assume that it is the everyday experience of the majority of people around the planet. This assumption is supported by Robert Reich’s Substack post outlining and explaining how unbalanced our economy is.

As an older adult, the options for increasing my income stream are limited. Jobs are few and far between, no matter how much experience shows up on my resume. My physical and cognitive capacities are different., limiting my options in terms of type of work, and oh yes, there is that nasty prejudice about older workers that also gets in the way.

Investments needed to have been funded years ago and savings habits, property acquisition, and wise budgeting all combine to establish a predictable monthly return, but political instability and market volatility make for troubled sleep. Besides, like too many of us, I didn’t follow that plan and my fall back plan seems to be missing.

Social Security, a funding mechanism that has proven to be one of the most remarkable change agents for raising people out of poverty, continues to be used as a political bargaining chip. Without it, however, 71 million Americans would find themselves without a basic stream of income to just make it through the month. I don’t know that I could possibly make it without my monthly Social Security check, a truly frightening fact I have difficulty coming to terms with.

Understanding Consequences — Short-Term and Long-Term

Like those crabs in the boiling pot, too many of us haven’t realized just how hot the water has become. We are all being cooked. Maybe like me, you cut back on some luxuries. Maybe you shopped around for better prices. I’ll admit, I have been lulled into “point-click-buy” patterns for making too many purchases of things I don’t need, but I am much more selective in what I do purchase and just how often I need things.

Consequences of these kinds of actions are felt differently by each of us. I stubbornly defend my habit of driving extra distances to go to a grocery store I like better than my local stores. Prices there are actually higher, so my dollar doesn’t go as far. But the joy I have in making the drive, the delight I take in being surrounded by the bounty of fresh produce, all combine to reinforce my belief that it is worth the extra money. Until I can’t afford it.

Healthcare Expectations

This is true for healthcare also. Because I have really good medical coverage, I have expectations that I will be able to receive high-quality medical care when I go to my primary care physician and use the laboratory and imaging services at my local hospital.

Because of my personal and professional background, I understand more of what goes on behind the scenes in terms of paying for those services and seeing that reimbursement rates match costs. In spite of my efforts to educate folks, too many haven’t a clue as to what healthcare actually costs. Too many haven’t an interest in what kind of streams of income are necessary to keep the doors of the hospital open, pay a living wage for the professionals who staff the services, and address the increasingly burdensome administrative costs of meeting federal regulations in return for pennies on the dollar in Congressionally determined reimbursement rates.

We Can’t Abdicate Any Longer

We leave that for others to decide. And in doing so, we abdicate our role in taking charge of our own healthcare.

The short-term consequences of this lack of understanding are twofold: lowered trust in the system overall, and increased reliance on quick-fixes and quackery. The long-term consequences of this are dire: a loss of care to the most vulnerable among us and the steady decline in overall health resulting in sicker people dying sooner.

What’s This Gonna Cost Me?

This question should be one of the first ones we ask—not just of healthcare, where getting to that number really is complex—but of every other aspect of our lives. What is transportation going to cost me—how much can I expect to pay at the gas tank each week? What is housing going to cost me? How much can I expect my monthly rent to go up, or my insurance premiums to rise? What is my food bill going to be at the end of the month? Energy? Clothing?

We remain at the mercy of the economy only so long as we remain ignorant of how it works. The cost to us—as a society, as a community, as a species—reaches far beyond the monthly reconciliation of accounts. It has an emotional and psychological impact across generations, where aging adults fear loss of autonomy and bankruptcy, middle-aged parents find themselves “Parenting” their own parents, as well as their own adult children and grandchildren while still working, and youth see a world filled with economic and climate collapse.

Where Am I in the Larger Picture?

It’s challenging to come up with a solution to these problems. Systems are required to successfully and reliably address what I want, feel entitled to, and actually need. They are expected to match that effortlessly with all that is involved in growing, manufacturing, distributing and recycling what is left over in order to meet those needs not just for myself, but for everybody else.

These systems arise from cultural values and norms, rely on political decision-making structures, and operate within “laws” of supply and demand. At their best, they are imperfect; at their worst, they create needless suffering.

These systems have their own lifespans, seemingly dictated by changes in technology, social and economic imbalances that need righting, and climate change. We are at a point of transition in our current system where clearly the needs are no longer being met and the system itself is unable to function.

Decision Point: What I Can and Cannot Do

The acts of defiance I am able to engage in are limited these days because of my age. I can join protests. I can continue to publish my thoughts on my website and Substack. I can vote.

I can’t change what I pay for food, except to decide to eat differently or shop elsewhere. I can’t change what I pay for gas, except to not drive as much and to locate a gas station selling at lower prices. I can’t lower my rent or refuse to pay for insurance coverage without risking losing my housing.

But by voting, I can have a say in who represents me and my needs. I can demand (not ask!) of them that they address the imbalance in food prices. I can demand that they change the rules and regulations allowing for corporate profits to be valued above human capital. I can demand that they keep the promises made to provide Social Security and healthcare benefits over my lifespan.

What I Have

So, here are the numbers I actually want: not $5.49 a gallon, not 79%, not $80 for a bag of groceries—but the number of us who are done pretending we don’t notice the water in this crab pot getting hotter. I don’t have a tidy formula that tells you exactly what next year will cost you. Nobody does.

What I do have is a vote, a laptop, and a stubborn refusal to sit quietly in the pot. That’s not everything. But it’s mine to use, and I intend to use it.

If you’re reading this and nodding along—feeling the same squeeze in your own budget and your own bones—consider this your invitation. Don’t just ask what it’s going to cost you. Ask what it’s costing all of us to stay quiet. Then speak up, write, and demand accordingly. Most importantly, vote! I’ll be right there with you—grumbling about gas prices the whole way.