In today’s hyper-connected world, it’s easy to mistake communication for connection—especially in our neighborhoods. We wave from the driveway, comment on a Facebook post, or send a quick text about a package on the porch. But genuine neighboring doesn’t start with information exchange. It starts with trust. The same rule that applies to strong teams is true on every block in Missouri: people have to connect as people before they can collaborate as neighbors. Or put another way, neighborhoods grow at the speed of trust. Think about any neighborhood project that fizzled—an event no one showed up to, a beautification idea that stalled, or a tough issue that never got addressed. Most of the time, the problem isn’t a lack of good intentions or ability. It’s that people didn’t yet feel connected enough, safe enough, or aligned enough to work together. Without trust, even the best plans become polite coordination rather than genuine collaboration. But when neighbors truly know one another, s...

  In a converted one-room schoolhouse in Thetford, Vermont, more than 40 neighbors squeeze shoulder to shoulder around a wooden buffet overflowing with goat-cheese crostini, fatback beans, and home-baked pies. Children dart between legs. Old friends embrace. Newcomers are welcomed as if they’ve lived there forever. And for a few hours each month, a community that has weathered industry collapse, population turnover, and cultural polarization becomes whole again. This monthly potluck in the Rice’s Mills Schoolhouse has been going strong for 60 years. The December 2025  New York Times story chronicling the gathering and it reads almost like a love letter to what America used to do naturally: show up, bring a dish, talk to strangers, and create a place where everyone feels like they belong. But the deeper lesson is not nostalgia. It’s a roadmap—one that rural Missouri is perfectly positioned to follow. Lesson 1: A Simple, Predictable Tradition Builds Belonging The Rice’s Mill...