This is a love letter.
To the local farmers who proudly serve the restaurants in their communities with fresh-from-the-dirt veggies and fruits that don’t need artificial coloring to look good.
To the chefs who support those farmers by building their menus around what’s local and in season.
To the engineer who opened a brewery.
To the dentist who followed in his father’s footsteps even though he dreamed of writing Western novels like Louis L’Amour.
To the community who saved their record store because they believed in the kind of social space that only a record store can create—one that moves around music, one that embraces all kinds of people, one that is rooted in a memory we all share.
To the corporate lawyer who quit her six-figure job to found an urban garden community.
To all those who couldn’t find “the right one”—the right golf club, the right bar of soap, the right coffee, the right shirt, the right bike, the right initiative—and so they went out and made their own. The right way.
To the dreamers, the risk-takers, the ones who believe so strongly in what they do that they have the courage to do it, no matter what their parents say.
To the nets that appear when people take a chance and leap.
This is a love letter to the stories that connect us, the stories that compel us to eat at a particular restaurant, to purchase a particular item, to invest in a particular interest, to shop at a local store.