Pretend It’s a Forest

When you live in a small town, there’s no such thing as anonymity. People know you—by name, by face, or simply by your habits. Locals notice your routines, your personality, and, of course, your absence—especially if you play a role in the community.

A few months ago, four members of our community left town after not reaching a work agreement to continue running the Two Rivers Café for another season. With their departure, we didn’t just lose their brand promise of being “Open at 11 AM All year long,” we lost the presence of diverse voices in the mix—both literally and metaphorically. To me, they were more than “the pizza place people.” I found friendship with them through cultural nuances, shared musical taste, and, of course, bilingualism. Their absence is felt. And I’m sure many locals—and the tourists who returned each season—miss their energy, too.

It doesn’t matter if this is your forever address or just a stop along the way. In a town where people are few and impressions linger, it’s up to each of us to decide whether—or how—we want to be remembered. So here’s a list of ways to leave your mark, if you’re into that kind of thing:

Be part of a business. Owners and staff alike keep our fragile local ecosystem alive. Just by showing up, running a business, and helping make this town feel like a community—you become a legend. We appreciate everything you do, because dealing with landlords, bears, and people in general is not easy.

Be an active member of the community. Choose your level of engagement with others—whether you volunteer for a local initiative, bond with your neighbors, contribute to the local newspaper, or simply support small businesses.Your presence will be noticed. And it’s always up to you whether you’re remembered as: A) a fun, contributing member of society or B) a complete a-hole. Which brings me to my next point.

Commit an unhinged act. No need to name specifics—you know exactly what I’m talking about, and something probably just popped into your head. But mistakes are human. There’s always room for redemption—and a better second, third, or fourth impression.

Living in a small community is a unique experience—and definitely not for everyone. Because once you’re part of it, you’re in it. Really in it. That means noticing new faces—or noticing when the familiar ones are gone. And in case you’re wondering, our missed community members are doing well. They’re still working in hospitality and missing this place—especially the calm and peace these mountains offered. Sadly, they have no plans to return anytime soon. But for now—locals, old-timers, newcomers, tourists, and visitors from other galaxies—let’s pretend we can leave a mark in these kinds of communities, and that our actions will be remembered for years to come. Hopefully not in the unhinged way.