by Amy Trask
Some years feel ordinary. This one hasn’t. This year has felt like standing at the edge of a shifting landscape- watching familiar ground move, watching old assumptions crack, watching the distance between what our communities need and what our state delivers grow wider by the month. I’ve spent the past year listening to neighbors, parents, teachers, farmers, small‑town families who are drowning despite doing everything right.
I’ve heard the same ache repeated in different words: people feel the weight of decisions made far from the places they call home. And in that ache, one truth keeps has become impossible to ignore: The local is no longer small. It is the front line. We are living in a moment where the local matters more than ever.
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