Knowing what we have - while we have it

We’ve all heard that “you don’t know what you have until you lose it,” which I know from experience to be true. But in recent years I’ve personally discovered another truth. You don’t know what you have until you really, really need it.

We’ve lived in Sisters for almost 30 years now, but when we first came, I remember how “old-timers” (Sisters residents who’d lived here their whole lives) would offer sage advice (or maybe it was warnings). I frequently heard two things: 1. Most newcomers won’t remain here more than a couple years and 2. You gotta be tough and independent to live here.

I was skeptical, but we saw it happen again and again during our first decade here — newcomer friends and neighbors would stick around a few years, but then up and move on. Same thing in the business community. Whether it was the weather, the smallness of town, or the altitude, people came and went. And during those years, perhaps as a result of friends leaving, we did become fairly “independent.” Being a freelance writer working at home (in the woods outside of town) hermitting came easy. We were content to do our own thing and let others do theirs.

But about 10 years ago, as we began to see changes in our community — and in our ages — my husband and I decided to move into town where we could really get to know our neighbors and become more involved in the growing community here. We joined a few organizations and invited neighbors over... and it was all good. But then COVID hit and social gathering came to a screeching halt. And while no one was looking, the town grew, and grew, and grew!

As COVID restrictions lifted, and we began to poke our heads out again, I wondered if these newcomers, some recently retired as well as younger families with kids, would still be around in a couple of years. But with the building boom and new businesses springing up, it seemed the old rules had changed. Town seemed to be thriving and livelier than ever. So much so that some of the old-timers weren’t too thrilled, and I must admit I was one.

But it was about this same time that something happened to help change my dismal anti-growth perspective. My husband, still in his mid 60s, was diagnosed with early onset dementia (FTD, frontal temporal dementia — like Bruce Willis). It was a disheartening and devastating prognosis because FTD is brutal! And suddenly everything in our lives was changed. We’d finished building a new house and were ready to embark on some travel plans and more camping adventures… but poof — our “golden years” dreams went up in smoke.

But when the smoke cleared some, I began to observe something amazing. I was out running errands one day, and it hit me how we were living smack in the midst of one of the sweetest communities on earth! Surrounded by kind caring neighbors and friends, many who jumped in with meals after some medical emergencies made daily life difficult, some who lent a hand in other ways, and some who just give good hugs! And I became grateful for our growing community because we found a great health care source in our town, and a dementia support group, and lots of other things that hadn’t existed thirty years ago. I also grew more appreciative that, despite increased traffic, it was still easy to get around town, and shopping options were constantly improving with new local businesses. And people were nice! Something that’s hard to find in larger towns. Sisters folks have a reputation for being kind and friendly. Even with my slightly confused and slow-moving spouse, people have been surprisingly sweet and understanding and helpful. I love that!

But I didn’t experience this ah-hah moment until I was in dire straits and realized how desperately I needed community. And for that very reason I’m enormously thankful to live in a small town like Sisters. Yes, I realize there’s a lot of division, unrest, anxiety — even fear — lurking out there in the bigger world, but I hope that as time goes by we can preserve the sweetness of our small community in this town. And if you’re a newcomer, I hope you will feel at home here and stay more than two years, and that you will realize what a blessing it is to be part of a community like this. Because it’s better to know what you have while you still have it — and when you need it — than to find out too late.