Why I Keep Upping My Ante

Why I Keep Upping My Ante
by Ted Streuli

Every December, I sit down with my checkbook—yes, I still use checks, and no, I’m not taking questions about it—and write out my annual donation to the Rotary Club 29 Foundation. And every year, without fail, I add a little more than I did the year before.

My accountant thinks I’m having a slow-motion financial breakdown. My spouse has stopped asking if I’m sure about this. But here’s the thing: I’ve never been more certain about where my money is going, or why I keep increasing the amount.

Let me be clear from the start—I’m not writing this to win any humanitarian awards or to make anyone feel guilty. I’m writing it because someone recently asked me, “Why do you keep giving them more?” And my answer surprised even me.

Here’s what I told them: Because last year’s gift isn’t enough for this year’s world.

Think about it. Inflation doesn’t just affect the price of eggs and gas. It affects the cost of building a healing nature trail for families facing their worst nightmares. It drives up the expense of funding scholarship programs for local students. It increases what it takes to support reading programs in Oklahoma City Public Schools through the club’s Literacy Project, and all the other work the OnePledge campaign does that makes an actual, measurable difference right here in our community.

If I gave the same amount every year, I’d actually be giving less. The numbers might look identical on paper, but the impact would shrink. And that seemed like the opposite of what I wanted to accomplish.

So I started increasing my donation annually. Not by some astronomical amount that requires me to eat ramen for three months—just enough to keep pace with the rising cost of doing good, plus a little extra because, frankly, I can.

Now for the part that might sound selfish, but I’m going to say it anyway: giving more each year has made me happier.

I know how that sounds. But study after study shows that charitable giving activates the same pleasure centers in our brains as eating chocolate or receiving money ourselves. Except this high doesn’t come with cavities or complicated tax implications—well, actually, there are tax implications, but the good kind.

Every time I increase that donation, I feel like I’m putting my money where my mouth is. We all complain about the state of the world, about how things are getting worse, about how nobody does anything anymore. Well, here’s something. Here’s me doing something. And it’s not just symbolic; it’s tangible.

The OnePledge campaign doesn’t waste money on flashy overhead. They put resources directly into programs that change lives right here in Oklahoma City. This year, my increased donation helps build the Trail of Hope at the new Ronald McDonald House on Memorial Road—a place where families dealing with a child’s serious illness or injury can find a moment of peace, take a healing walk, and recharge during the most difficult days of their lives. It supports reading programs in our public schools. It funds scholarships for deserving students. When I increase my donation, I know exactly what I’m increasing: opportunity, education, healing, and hope.

Here’s another truth: I don’t want to be one of those people who saves all their charitable giving for their will. Don’t get me wrong—planned giving is wonderful. But I want to see the impact while I’m still around to appreciate it.

By increasing my gift each year, I’m essentially fast-forwarding my own legacy. I’m not waiting until I’m gone to make a bigger difference. I’m making a bigger difference right now, this year, when I can still know that a family caring for their sick child will have a quiet trail to walk when they need it most, or that a struggling reader in an Oklahoma City classroom is getting the support they need, or that a high school senior is getting a scholarship that opens doors they thought were closed.

There’s something deeply satisfying about knowing that while I’m alive, while I’m still buying overpriced coffee and streaming services I barely watch, I’m also steadily expanding my contribution to something that matters.

So here’s what I’d say to my fellow Club 29 members: You don’t have to match my donation. But I’d challenge you to consider this model of incremental generosity for our OnePledge campaign.

Try increasing your support each year. Even five percent more. Even ten dollars more. The amount matters less than the trajectory.

Because here’s what I’ve learned: giving more each year doesn’t feel like sacrifice. It feels like momentum. It feels like growth. It feels like becoming the person I want to be, one slightly larger check at a time.

And yes, I’m still using checks. Some traditions are worth keeping.