SNAP benefits help local economies because the benefits are spent

Host:
The evening sun fell softly over a small-town farmers market, painting everything in the tender amber light that seems to forgive the world for its noise. Wooden stalls lined the main street, each one bursting with the smell of fresh produce — tomatoes still warm from the field, corn stacked in neat yellow pyramids, and baskets of strawberries glistening like jewels. Laughter rippled through the air as families walked between booths, their children running ahead with sticky hands and wide eyes.

At the far end of the market, under a canvas tent, Jack stood behind a table of locally made honey jars, their labels slightly crooked but honest. Across from him, Jeeny counted out a handful of SNAP tokens into the palm of a young mother who smiled in quiet relief. A breeze carried the scent of basil and hope.

Jeeny: smiling softly, as she hands over a paper bag “Deb Haaland once said — ‘SNAP benefits help local economies because the benefits are spent at local grocery stores — with locally grown and locally-made products. I remember many years ago, while on food stamps, I advocated for the benefits to be spent at local farmers markets — a move that has helped local economies even more.’”

Jack: pausing as he screws a lid onto a honey jar “That’s a line that feels like sunlight — practical, warm, and human.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “It’s simple, isn’t it? Feed the people, and you feed the place they live.”

Host:
The wind rustled through the tent fabric, carrying with it the low hum of conversation, the soft chatter of cash registers, and the rhythm of human exchange — real, tangible, alive. The market glowed in that hour between day and night when everything ordinary feels sacred.

Jack leaned his elbows on the table, watching as a group of teenagers walked past, holding iced lemonade and laughing at nothing.

Jack: softly “You know, we talk about ‘economy’ like it’s this faceless thing. A system, a chart, a debate. But standing here, you realize — it’s just people trading dignity.”

Jeeny: nodding slowly “Yes. Economy isn’t theory; it’s relationship. It’s the hand that takes and the hand that gives, both staying clean.”

Jack: quietly “Haaland gets that. She’s talking about the loop — the sacred circle. When you help someone eat, you help someone else grow.”

Jeeny: smiling “Exactly. SNAP isn’t just charity. It’s circulation — compassion turned into currency.”

Host:
The sun dipped lower, brushing gold across the fruit stands. Somewhere nearby, a musician began strumming a guitar, his voice low and familiar — a song about land and labor, maybe both.

Jeeny adjusted a basket of apples, her fingers brushing against the smooth skin of one.

Jeeny: softly “It’s funny. When people think of help, they think of dependence. But this — this kind of help — it’s collaboration. It keeps the money here, where the stories are.”

Jack: after a pause “Yeah. You can’t export empathy.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “No. And you can’t globalize gratitude.”

Jack: quietly “You know, when I was a kid, my mom used to take us to the farmer’s market with food stamps. Back then, people looked at her like she didn’t belong. But she never stopped coming. Said she’d rather buy from the people who grew the food than the ones who just sold it.”

Jeeny: softly “That’s courage disguised as grocery shopping.”

Host:
The market lights flickered on, one by one — strings of bulbs that turned the night into a constellation of community. The air carried laughter, the thud of crates being closed, and the quiet shuffle of feet on gravel.

Jeeny leaned against the post of the tent, her eyes following a farmer counting his day’s earnings with the soft smile of honest exhaustion.

Jeeny: quietly “Haaland’s story matters because it comes from memory. She didn’t study policy — she lived it. She knows what it means when the difference between hunger and dinner comes from a card in your wallet.”

Jack: nodding “That’s why her words don’t sound like politics. They sound like gratitude.”

Jeeny: smiling faintly “And wisdom. Because when you’ve been hungry, you understand that feeding someone isn’t pity — it’s partnership.”

Jack: after a long pause “Maybe that’s the real meaning of sustainability — not just in soil or crops, but in compassion.”

Jeeny: softly “Yes. The soil remembers kindness as much as it remembers seed.”

Host:
The camera drifts across the scene — over the booths closing down for the night, the last customers carrying their bags home, the young mother walking away with her children, one of them holding a honey jar in both hands as though it were treasure.

Jack watched them go, his voice low, almost reverent.

Jack: quietly “You know what I love about this place? No one here’s rich. No one here’s powerful. But everyone here’s essential.”

Jeeny: smiling “That’s what Haaland meant — the economy that grows from the ground up, not the top down.”

Jack: softly “The kind where generosity compounds faster than interest.”

Jeeny: after a pause “And where justice looks like a full table.”

Host:
The lights dimmed, and the market fell quiet. The last of the farmers began to pack up, their trucks rumbling softly into the night. The valley beyond was dark, but it carried the quiet promise of tomorrow — of sunrise and seeds and another day of honest exchange.

Jeeny gathered her notebook, tucking it under her arm. Jack wiped his hands on a rag, closing the cash box with a tired smile.

Jeeny: softly “The older I get, the more I realize that economics isn’t numbers — it’s nourishment.”

Jack: nodding “And nourishment isn’t just food. It’s belonging.”

Jeeny: smiling gently “Yes. When you buy from your neighbor, you’re voting for your own future.”

Jack: quietly “And maybe for theirs, too.”

Host:
The camera pans upward, past the rows of empty stalls, the hanging lights swaying gently in the night breeze. The sound of crickets rises — the old rhythm of nature keeping time with human hands.

And in that soft, breathing stillness, Deb Haaland’s words linger like a benediction over the earth and the people who work it:

“SNAP benefits help local economies because the benefits are spent at local grocery stores — with locally grown and locally-made products. I remember many years ago, while on food stamps, I advocated for the benefits to be spent at local farmers markets — a move that has helped local economies even more.”

Because economy
is not an abstraction —
it is an ecosystem.

Every dollar is a seed.
And when planted in the soil of community,
it grows roots of dignity,
branches of equity,
and fruit that feeds everyone.

True wealth
is not measured in profit,
but in participation.

It is the hum of the market,
the warmth of food on the table,
the simple, revolutionary act
of turning hunger into hope
— not through charity,
but through connection.