Dalene Basden is rarely off the clock. In the working-class streets of Lynn, Massachusetts, her office is wherever her clients happen to be—a local playground, a school hallway, or the aisles of a grocery store where she teaches families how to navigate the increasingly confusing math of coupons and price comparisons. For over 30 years, she has been the steady hand for families raising children with special needs, serving currently as a program director at the Children’s Friend and Family Services Clinic, a division of the Justice Resource Institute.
Several nights a week, Basden transitions from her professional role to a volunteer one at My Brother’s Table, a Lynn soup kitchen. There, she is a familiar face, bouncing between the serving line and the dining room. She might be checking in on a young man’s job application or having a stern but loving conversation with a volunteer who missed a shift. To those she serves, Basden is the ultimate fixer—the woman who always finds a way.
But behind the scenes, the math that Basden teaches her clients has begun to fail her. At 71, after a lifetime of service, she has found herself in a position she spent her career trying to prevent others from entering: living paycheck to paycheck. It’s a quiet, grinding precariousness fueled by the rising costs of basic necessities, a reality that is increasingly common even for those with steady employment and professional titles.
The shift happened with a speed that Basden describes as “crazy.” For years, she and her husband—who drives a van for people with disabilities—managed their mortgage and expenses with a comfortable margin. Then, inflation hit the pump and the pantry. The combined monthly cost of filling their cars jumped from roughly $300 to $400 to over $600. Suddenly, the budget that had held for decades began to fray.
The Invisible Threshold of Poverty
Basden’s experience reflects a broader, systemic trend currently sweeping through the American workforce. According to a poll conducted by NPR, PBS News, and Marist, eight out of 10 Americans report struggling to make ends meet. This suggests that financial instability is no longer confined to the unemployed or the lowest earners; it has migrated upward, affecting the “near-poor” and middle-class workers who earn a “decent” salary but lack the cushion to absorb rapid price hikes.
For Basden, the impact is felt most acutely at the dinner table. The dietary shifts are a stark indicator of the new economic reality. “All we eat is chicken,” she says, noting that beef has become a luxury she can no longer justify. Six months prior, beef was a staple; now, it is an impossibility. To keep the household running—which includes an adult son with disabilities and two grandsons—Basden has had to start taking her own advice on budgeting, and in some cases, seeking help from the extremely food pantries she once helped others navigate.
| Expense Category | Previous Monthly Average | Current Monthly Average | Impact |
|---|---|---|---|
| Fuel/Gasoline | $300 – $400 | $600+ | Severe budget strain |
| Protein/Groceries | Mixed (Beef/Chicken) | Primarily Chicken | Reduced nutritional variety |
| Client Transport | Frequent/Subsidized | Limited/Reduced | Reduced service accessibility |
When the Safety Net Fails the Provider
Financial instability is often a slow burn, but for many, it only takes one “curveball” to trigger a crisis. For Basden, that curveball was a cancer diagnosis. While her employment provides health insurance, the secondary costs of chronic illness are devastating. The co-pays are crushing, and the logistics of care add a further financial burden. Basden frequently travels an hour from Lynn to a hospital in Boston, where parking fees and gas costs add a “health tax” to every appointment.
The irony of her situation is not lost on her. In a moment of dark humor, she and her husband realized that their monthly gas expenditure would actually decrease next month—not because prices dropped, but because Basden will be undergoing surgery and will be unable to drive. “We said, ‘We’ll save some money then,'” she says. It is a poignant illustration of how the cost of living can make a medical crisis feel like a financial relief.
Perhaps the most painful aspect of this struggle is the professional compromise. Basden has always been a “hands-on” advocate, often using her own car and money to deliver dinners, outfit young women for special needs proms, or drive clients to job interviews. Now, she is forced to set boundaries she never wanted. “That gas is on me,” she explains. She has had to tell clients to ride their bikes instead of offering her usual rides, a shift that feels like a betrayal of her own lifelong standards of care.
The Resilience of the Helper
Despite the crushing weight of medical bills and inflation, Basden refuses to step back. Her work at the clinic and the soup kitchen is more than a job or a hobby; she describes it as the force keeping her alive. Even as the sun sets on a long day of navigating poverty—both her clients’ and her own—she continues to move forward. After leaving the soup kitchen, her final stop of the day is a meeting with a family currently struggling to pay their rent.
Basden’s story highlights a critical gap in the American social safety net: the “missing middle.” These are the individuals who earn too much to qualify for significant federal assistance but too little to survive the current inflationary environment, especially when faced with a health crisis. As federal food assistance cuts loom for others, the reliance on community-based organizations like My Brother’s Table becomes even more vital—even for the people who run them.
Disclaimer: This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute financial or medical advice. Please consult with a certified financial planner or healthcare provider regarding personal financial management or medical treatment.
As Basden prepares for her upcoming surgery and subsequent recovery, her focus remains on the families of Lynn. While she acknowledges that retirement will eventually be necessary, she remains steadfast in her current mission. The immediate next step for those in her position is the continued navigation of local community resources and the hope for stabilizing consumer prices in the coming fiscal quarters.
Do you know a “helper” in your community who is struggling in silence? Share this story or leave a comment below to discuss how One can better support the people who spend their lives supporting others.
