Some stories choose us rather than the other way around.
This month, I find myself thinking about the weight of the narratives we hold—the ones we actively seek and those that find us when we least expect them. Dave LaBelle’s close look at widowhood reminds us that some of life’s most profound stories arrive uninvited, reshaping everything we thought we knew about ourselves.
Through conversations with four men who lost their wives, Dave captures something essential about resilience and adaptation. Shawn Whalen’s image of walking “the knife’s edge, like a Himalayan peak” speaks to anyone who’s had to keep moving forward when the ground beneath them shifted completely. Tim Thompson’s insight about becoming “both Mom and Dad” without time to process his own grief reveals the quiet heroism that grief often demands.
These aren’t easy stories to tell or hear, but they’re necessary ones. They remind us that strength isn’t about avoiding difficulty—it’s about finding ways to honor what we’ve lost while still engaging with what remains.
On a lighter note, BendFilm’s Basecamp represents another kind of storytelling—the collaborative creation of new narratives.
When 200 film-makers applied for 40 spots at this wilderness retreat, they were seeking something beyond technical skills. They wanted connection, mentorship and the chance to discover stories worth telling.
As Director Clay Pruitt notes, “You rarely get a glimpse into the genesis and into the very early stages of these things.”
Before I close, I want to thank everyone who submitted photos for our 2026 Ruralite calendar contest. We received more than 400 images—each one telling its own story about the broad region’s beauty and character. We have chosen the winning photos and notified the photographers. You can view our selections at ruralite.com/2026-calendar-winners. These entries reinforce the idea storytelling takes many forms, and sometimes a single photograph captures what pages of words cannot.
Until next time,
Chasity Anderson
Editorial Director