Growth, Not Grief
The same issues that we face are copy-pasted across rural America. The things that set us apart have little to do with adversity.
Life in rural communities is steeped with challenges. Our youth look forward to graduation day as an opportunity to escape, and some never look back. Large sectors of our population are retiring, including vital trades workers and doctors. Our businesses are struggling to stay open because of the ease of Amazon and the proximity of our urban neighbors. Our towns and infrastructure deteriorate as our tax dollars dwindle. Older generations stepping out of leadership roles gripe that our young people just don’t work like they used to, just don’t volunteer like they used to, just don’t care about our communities like they used to. And our young people stepping into leadership roles must combat this stigma while the older generation struggles to relinquish control with mindsets steeped in “we tried that once and failed,” and “it has always been done this way.”
In my position, I come face to face with these challenges daily. I am bombarded with alarmist news articles, visits from concerned citizens, calls from worried businesses, pleas from frustrated youth. Incessant reminders funnel into my news feed and my email inbox of why small towns are dying and our community is suffering at the hands of globalization, e-commerce, and a declining population.
When I moved to Hettinger, I would have considered myself an eternal optimist—I believed a positive mindset could shift any narrative. Having been in my position two years as of next week, the negativity and dreary outlook have shifted my narrative. Unlike many who take on this line of work, however, my narrative hasn’t swung toward pessimism. Rather, I’ve found that cautious optimism is the armored glass half full that allows me to function, addressing challenges with innovative, solution-focused approaches rather than defeatism. Passion and positivity with a touch of realism have proved effective antidotes to the doom and gloom of rural life.
And they have allowed me to celebrate the benchmarks that point toward growth, not grief.
The challenges of rural life aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. And though moping and cynicism can feel like protective coping mechanism to shield ourselves from the possibility of our small-town demise, the fact of the matter is that our challenges do not make us special. In fact, at every conference, in every meeting, during every networking event, I am reminded our community is not unique in our struggles: The same issues that we face are copy-pasted across rural America. The things that set us apart have little to do with adversity.
What makes us exceptional has everything to do with what we should be celebrating: the youth so passionate about their community that they’ve developed student-led civic organizations like the Mini-Chamber and Youth Wired; Helping Hettinger Day, which brings hundreds together to sweat and work their way to a stronger community; the over $250,000 in grant funds brought into the community in 2019; the record-breaking attendance at more than half of our Chamber events, and the more than $37,000 in Chamber bucks sold and redeemed in local businesses, proof that money is being spent to support our community. The list goes on, and reasons for celebration abound.
Though dire, the challenges we face are standard; however, the strengths that make us extraordinary are numerous, spanning across generations and organizations. And celebrating them is not only worthwhile, but vital, allowing us to sell our community to tourists and potential residents, encouraging our current population to remain hopeful, and ensuring that when despair and stagnation are easy, progress and positivity prevail.
