I was thrilled to learn that our friend Katy Cummings, a 26-year-old relative newcomer to our town, has been promoted to manager of our small but vigorous food Co-Op. After the pandemic, a small but influential wave of young people returned to the country, finding urban and suburban lives too expensive,  hostile, chaotic, and unpleasant.

They are making this small and struggling town a better place every day.

We have benefited from the new food cars and cafes they’ve created and opened and people like Katy, who transitioned from assistant to manager in a couple of months without a bump or stumble.

Perhaps it’s my age, but I get a great boost from seeing young people with brains, energy, and creativity prosper. Bitching about young people today is one of the landmark signs of Old Fartism. The young people I am meeting are remarkable.

Katy calls herself a Jersey Girl – she lived there for a while – and we connected instantly. In high school, I was a Jersey Guy. We like to see ourselves as hardy and tough; Katy is all that; she also has a big heart and a cheerful and optimistic soul. I’ve never heard her complain about anything, although I imagine she does at home.

She is a natural multi-tasker and decision-maker; there’s plenty of steel in there, too, if she needs it. She probably will.

She is 26 years old.

I was a manager and boss at several newspapers and CBS News. I was in charge of many people.

It took me years to get the confidence and poise Katy arrived with. And even then, it was too much for me. I fled being a bit shot for book writing; I needed to work for myself.

It is a joy to see young people like Katy take off. She even came with a boyfriend who works at a famous museum in Vermont. We had a great time at dinner with them here at the farm.

When I first moved here, I thought working at a food co-op or running one was funky and soft, a kind of woo-woo thing to do.

I was wrong.

I’ve had several friends work at the co-op, and a few take on Katy’s job. Several had a very rough time.

It is not easy; it is complicated and often political; it requires keeping track of thousands of different food-related items, training and cosseting grumpy and sometimes unpredictable volunteers (Maria and I are volunteers), dealing with a demanding and fickle public, and navigating a board of directors that has, in the past, been known for being complex and demanding.

I don’t know them now.

It’s a tough job, and it’s essential. This is the only nearby place selling healthy, fresh, exciting food. Since the co-op was renovated a year ago, I rarely need to go to a supermarket stuffed to the gills with processed food and things I can’t eat. More and more local people are coming to the co-op and liking it.

I greatly admire the way Katy handles herself, especially at her age. There is nothing tender about her and nothing angry or mean. Maria laughs that when we go shopping at the co-op, she just assumes I will be yakking with Katy for a good long time (as she does with her many friends wherever we go.)

Katy is poised, fun, and steely when she needs to be. It is a pleasure to take her portrait, and she brightens the co-op in many ways. We have a blast together. She is keen on seeing my werewolf cane, which is coming from England sometime next week. She thinks it’s fantastic.

I like to think I’ve supported her, but the truth is she helps me.

Katy gets me, and I can’t lie and say there are all that many people who do.

The portraits never lie – you can see what Katy is in this photo, radiant, enthusiastic, and full of hope and goodwill. If I focus on people I like and admire, the camera will always do the rest.

The returning kids are lighting up the town; may they stay forever. These are the kids who had to live to find good work elsewhere. Now they are the kids doing a good job that will keep them here. It’s a beautiful story.