Began on the farm — I once loved as a child — later carried me far from Carbon County for college on an athletic scholarship, like many young people raised in rural communities shaped by job loss, economic instability, and industrial accidents that took the lives of friends and family working in the coal mines and supporting industries.  It was my daughters who kept my connection to the farm alive. Through their frequent visits and deep love for the land, they reminded me of the freedom and grounding that farm life offers. My bond with the place was rekindled through memories shared, keeping me tethered to its rhythms even when life carried me elsewhere. 

Yet life has a way of coming full circle.

I still remember the joyful days exploring the “flats” with my grandfather, and the tight-knit community of Hiawatha — where the American melting pot was alive, and the early settlers from around the world looked after one another. That spirit of neighborly care left a permanent mark on me. It echoed forward into adulthood, quietly guiding me back to my roots.

After years of working in various industries, seeking stability, purpose, and place, I found that what I was looking for had been here all along. The land — and the community — were calling me back.