Uncommon Ground

Rural Working Class

The guys in Washington don’t do much to help a working guy or retirees facing the outrageous costs of living in the new Montana

By Mike Jopek

Sitting in the bottom of an old banana box at Rod’s estate sale was a Mahnke yard sign that read “Blue Dog Democrat.” Blue Dogs advocate for fiscal responsibility and a strong national defense. Democrats like Mahnke worked to transcend party lines and get things done for American people.

I bought the yard sign and some tools. Back on the farm I stapled it onto the shed wall, under other old-timer’s campaign signs.

The way forward requires movement, I tell myself looking at the pile of dirt to be shoveled into the yet to be created bed. It’s a cool rainy morning, a good time to do some work. Those really sunny days make it real hard to work outside all day long. The heat seems hotter this springtime.

Work doesn’t much care about the weather. When it needs to get done, it gets done. Time matters for all the workers I know. Gotta earn the money. Not like Congress, who do little and make a good living for themselves while ignoring the rest of us.

The guys in Washington don’t do much to help a working guy or retirees facing the outrageous costs of living in the new Montana. They got the economy by the scruff of the neck and are shaking the bejesus out the working guys’ retirement and putting jobs in big trouble.

Working families just want to live and get ahead. To do the work and be paid fairly. To be treated with dignity and a bit of respect. To pay the never-ending bills. Everything is too damn expensive. Ask anyone you know. The bean counters got fancy formulas that apparently ignore the actual costs facing locals.

Not too long ago, a family with a bit of luck could buy a piece of land in the Flathead and get enough two-bys from the lumber yard to build a home. Last decade turned that dream upside down for middle Montana. It got too expensive. Like by a lot. Ask any local. Even with all the for-sale signs popping up around town, locals cannot afford to buy.

I filled another wheelbarrow and dumped the soil into the heap. Tomatoes would follow. Not today. The predicted hot days might help produce nice fruit, I thought. An upside to the new heat reality I tell myself, knowing full well that it’s more the chaotic weather that cause farmers like myself much distress.

Marble sized hail had fallen from the sky days earlier as the clouds suddenly turned hazy, menacing. It didn’t last long, did little damage on the farm. Who knows where else it hit. It’s spotty that way, pummeling that land while sparing damage nearby.

The way forward seems clear. One shovel full at a time. Trust the work. Work with community. Let the best decisions percolate from the locals onto the state. Stop overspending and live within the means. Let locals decide. 

I keep hoping the men Montana sent to Washington figure it out. Sounds dumb to hope because they don’t listen. They all earn way more than the average working stiff so maybe don’t even realize how expensive the cost of housing, insurance, cars, food and everything else became for almost anyone with a decent job, living and working in a vast rural state like Montana.

I glanced at the dirt lines on my hands and remind myself how decades earlier, an old-timer told me that hard labor will never make you rich young man, only investments produce gazillionaires. Maybe those 401(k) retirements that so many workers own will recover soon.

For whatever reason, Congress is letting the chaos continue. Predictability is what we need on the farm and it seems to be the same cure for jobs and the economy. A Square Deal would help working people, small business, and rural voters get ahead.

For a long time, the economy hasn’t worked too well for the working person, as Washington sits idling, wasting fuel until the next election. Republicans and Democrats are stumped, arguing among themselves. It’s a sad day for D.C. There’re gotta be better days ahead. Locals still know how to work, get along, to get stuff done. Come talk to us Washington. Listen to the voters.

It’s easy to see we’re getting hosed, that the struggle is real, no matter how good they keep telling us we’re doing. You know. You pay the rent, the taxes, and the never-ending bills. It’d be nice to have some left over to save.

I scoffed. Drove the shovel into the ground using the leg, like Walter taught me when I helped built dad’s gas station as a kid. Now cursing at the unhelpful lot we sent to Washington, much like dad and Walter did a half century earlier. A bunch a do-nothings, I muttered. After all that fancy campaign talk. Now they’re raising the national debt again. And hurting rural healthcare.