Reimagining what community can be

For months, I have carried the thought that our current situation, globally, nationally, and even in our own community, cannot be what is best for our future. As a young person, this is not a reality I want to see continue.

We live in a time when connection feels harder to come by. I find myself reflecting on what it truly means to belong, to a place, to people, to a story bigger than myself.

There is an old Welsh word, hiraeth, that describes a homesickness for a place or time that may never have existed, or that can never be returned to. It is a longing for a person, a place, or a moment separated from us by time or distance.

A newer word, anemoia, describes a wistful longing for a past we never knew, drifting through the mind like a gentle wind.

Kentucky writer Silas House captures something similar with his concept of timesickness, a yearning for a time you wish you could return to but cannot.

We all recall moments that felt brighter, often because of someone no longer with us, a place, or an activity that is gone.

These words nearly capture the feelings I wrestle with. Yet what, and where, is the home they describe?

I am pragmatic, yet hopeful even in the face of impossibilities. My faith calls me not to let my heart be troubled. Apart from the Lord, none of us could truly be faithful.

My longing begins with stories of days I never knew, when communities felt stronger, people were engaged in current events, and the cost of freedom was more deeply understood.

I reflect on this through my work as a journalist, remembering a time when the field, and those of us in it, were held in far greater respect.

I think of days when communities came together to stand for what they believed in, defend one another in adversity, and lift each other up during moments of strife.

Of course, my view of long-ago times comes from others’ memories and records I can revisit, like old newspaper clippings. I often wonder how those people felt in those moments, times I look back on and wish we could experience again.

I recognize a truth often overlooked. The past was not happy for everyone.

One person’s heyday could easily be another’s suffering. Even when many seemed united, there were always those who felt left out or shunned.

At the heart of my thought is a time that never was but could be. When I imagine it, I see a community without divisions that breed hate.

I see conversations with strangers in places we have both called home for years. Even in disagreement, there is no need for conflict. We can respect each other’s opinions and learn from one another. There is something powerful in that, something that reminds me why I love community.

Community is more than a literal place. It is an idea.

Community begins with bricks, soil, streets, and skyline, but it becomes something more: a feeling, an idea, a shared story still unfolding.

I long for a place that once was but has never existed, a place where everyone can belong, regardless of beliefs, skin color, who they love, or where they come from. A place where we see one another fully, and in doing so, see ourselves more clearly.

How baffling it is that this reality exists only in dreams, when it was always meant to be. Yet glimpses of it show me that it is possible anywhere.

Today, we spend too much time clashing over differences online, in ways that spill into the real world. We have witnessed hatred and unrest erupt in our streets, destroying towns and the places we love, generation after generation.

Instead of shouting about politics hundreds of miles away, why not focus on the issues here?

If we cared about our communities as much as congressional budgets or executive orders, they would be stronger and more resilient.

What if we came together for candlelight vigils whenever members of our community are lost to the hands of drug dealers, when cruel crimes steal the innocence of children, and when destructive domestic relationships shatter lives?

I see glimpses of this, proving it is not impossible.

Reimagining community also means accepting differences and discussing them thoughtfully, whether in private or in public. Too often, we resort to ridicule, turning disagreements into performances rather than seeking solutions.

It also means accountability, having discussions with each other, not about each other. We would be better off hashing things out face-to-face, in the places where we live.

I have grown up in a generation marked by anxiety, despair, and confusion, a generation fleeing from something deeper. I long for a home untouched by that reality, a return to real action. A world where people show up for one another, where neighbors care about city hall and who holds influence in schools.

This reality, though incomplete, exists across our nation. But I want to see it become common, not exceptional. It should be normal, not merely something we long for.

I have seen my community come together in its darkest hours, rallying around grief, need, and each other. I have also seen us unite for lighter moments, a good laugh, a big game, a shared celebration. I have witnesses people with different political beliefs share handshakes and hugs.

Still, there is an emptiness now, a common trust, a shared respect for the institutions that once held us together. There was a time when people cared about every part of their community, not just the issues that affected them directly. From local government decisions to opportunities for those who might never get a break, we cared.

The present disregard shows up in silent town meetings, in the way we drive past one another without a wave, in the growing sense that no one is really listening.

Back then, if institutions failed, we spoke up. We changed them. We took responsibility. We stayed informed and did not rush to pin blame elsewhere. We worked for what we wanted instead of waiting for it to fall from the sky.

I am confident we can reimagine our communities and return to this spirit—and achieve even more.

Rebuilding trust will not come from sweeping gestures. It comes from showing up, listening, asking questions, and supporting local stories, businesses, and people, not just scrolling past them. Each of us must commit to this kind of engagement, or the idea of community will fail.

We all share a responsibility to hold each other accountable, but that does not mean tearing each other down over every disagreement. We do not have to attack one another because our definitions of right and wrong sometimes differ. Humans will always have different views.

Our challenge now is to lift our communities without losing our moral compass and values, to find balance while rooting out hatred, cruelty, and corrosive ideologies—anything that threatens decency, compassion, and the shared pursuit of love and prosperity.

Community is an idea, but it is also our last, best hope for protecting the life, liberty, pursuit of happiness and individuality of the places we call home. We must reimagine it for good.

I hope you will join me in this quest for a better tomorrow.