Here’s a more natural and fluent version of your text while preserving its meaning:
After reading Greg Franklin’s posts in late 2020, Roben Farzad decided to take an unusual step. The two had met the previous year while sitting together at their kids’ basketball game at the local JCC. Less than a year later, Farzad was reading Franklin’s account of his wife’s battle with COVID—her seizures, her time on a ventilator.
To care for his wife and two children, Franklin had left his job at a real estate asset management company, first under the Family and Medical Leave Act and then permanently in August 2020. By the time Farzad reached out, Franklin’s wife was home and stable, and he was finally able to think about finding work again.
Farzad offered to host a live Zoom show, tapping into the collective wisdom of his radio show audience, Full Disclosure. Franklin hesitated at first—he felt awkward asking for help when so many people were struggling in 2020—but eventually agreed. He shared his story, and listeners responded by offering connections, advice, and job leads.
“People just showed up—people who were feeling sad, hopeless, stuck inside,” Farzad recalls. “It really showed me how powerful community can be.”
Franklin landed a new job the following April—one he still holds today. “Having that support from the community was incredibly uplifting,” he says.
To me, his story captures the heart of public radio: deeply local, committed to serving its community, and keeping people informed and connected.
Farzad’s show airs on Radio IQ, a public radio station in Virginia’s Appalachian region. Recently, Congress passed a bill cutting $1.1 billion in funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) over the next two years—money that supports NPR (my employer), PBS, and member stations like Radio IQ, which just lost $600,000 in federal funding.
NPR’s structure is a bit unusual, a holdover from its founding in 1970 under the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967. NPR produces shows like Morning Edition, All Things Considered, and my podcast, Planet Money, which member stations purchase to broadcast. Only a small portion of NPR’s budget comes directly from the federal government, but about 30% comes from fees paid by roughly 1,000 member stations—many of which rely heavily on federal funding.
Franklin’s job search feels like a very 2020 story, but public radio’s role in crises remains vital. When Hurricane Helene hit western North Carolina last year, power and internet went down, and phones stopped working—but radios still functioned. Blue Ridge Public Radio became a lifeline, broadcasting critical updates for up to 12 hours a day.
“We stayed on air to share essential information—where to find food, water, even oxygen tank refills,” said the station’s news director, Laura Lee.
This is especially crucial in areas with shrinking local news coverage. In Abilene, Texas, KACU’s general manager Heather Claborn noted, “We’re on the verge of becoming a news desert.” The local paper, which once had 250 employees, now has far fewer.
Public radio fills that gap, ensuring communities stay informed when they need it most.Fewer than five local TV news stations remain, and funding cuts are hitting public media hard. KACU, for example, relies on the Corporation for Public Broadcasting for 31% of its operating budget.
According to data from Alex Curley’s newsletter Semipublic, roughly 15% of public media stations could shut down due to these cuts. For some, like KCUW in Pendleton, Oregon, and KNSA in Unalakleet, Alaska, the cuts wipe out nearly their entire budget.
Losing news sources amid rising deepfakes and misinformation is a dangerous combination. But the decline of local news has other real consequences. While taxpayers might save an average of $1.60 per person per year from these cuts, they’ll likely pay more elsewhere. Research shows that when local newspapers disappear, borrowing costs for governments in the municipal bond market rise. The reason? Without journalists holding officials accountable, governments become less efficient—and sometimes more corrupt.
Beyond finances, our sense of community is already weakening. We eat alone more, attend church less, and spend more time at home. Public radio is one of the last shared spaces where a host can unite listeners around a common cause—each other.