Communities in Change: Back in the Kitchen

The holidays have a way of compressing time. One moment, we’re all gathering, cooking, and sharing meals; the next, the decorations are coming down, and a new year is already underway. In that quiet space between celebration and routine, I found myself thinking about how communities handle change—and why some conversations feel so much harder than others.

In our house, the kitchen can be a crowded place with six people cooking at once, all offering tips, suggestions, and opinions. Strong personalities, strong preferences. And yet, it works. No one storms out. The roof doesn’t cave in. We’re focused on a shared outcome: preparing a meal we’ll enjoy together.

But try to talk about Congress, the President, the Supreme Court, or even local government, and the dynamic often shifts. Conversations become tense or avoidant—not because people don’t care, but because those topics have become loaded. They’re no longer just about ideas; they feel personal.

Attainable housing, unfortunately, often lands in that same category. And that’s where change becomes difficult—not because solutions don’t exist, but because conversation shuts down before problem-solving can begin.

For a community, change doesn’t usually arrive as a single dramatic moment. It comes quietly, incrementally, through who can afford to live here, who can stay, who must leave, and who never arrives at all. Those shifts happen whether we talk about them or not.

At its core, attainable housing is not an ideological issue. It’s a practical, local one. It’s about the people who already make our communities function: teachers, nurses, first responders, local business employees, young families, and adult children who grew up here and hope to remain part of the place they love.

In the kitchen, we don’t argue about whether cooking is good or bad. We talk about ingredients and tradeoffs. Housing works the same way.

Land is an ingredient.
Zoning is the recipe.
Design is presentation.
Density is portion size.
Long-term affordability is nutrition, not just how something tastes today, but how it sustains us over time.

No single ingredient defines the outcome. But ignoring one almost always does.

In a healthy kitchen, disagreement isn’t a threat; it’s part of the process. Someone says, “This needs more salt,” and no one takes it personally. The goal isn’t to be right. It’s to make the meal better.

That mindset is essential as communities navigate change.

Many people understandably worry about preserving the character of the places they love. That concern is valid and deeply rooted. But change doesn’t wait for consensus. Doing nothing doesn’t preserve character—it simply allows change to happen without intention or guidance.

At the Sleeping Bear Gateways Council, our role is not to dictate solutions. It’s to help create space for thoughtful, informed, and respectful conversation to bring people back into the kitchen and keep them there long enough to cook together.

Communities that remain strong are not the ones that avoid change, but the ones that face it openly, collaboratively, and with care.

As we begin a new year focused on Communities & Change, our hope is simple: that attainable housing can be discussed not as a dividing line, but as a shared challenge—one that invites participation, creativity, and stewardship for generations to come.

We invite you to stay engaged, ask questions, and help shape the conversation—because the best outcomes come when everyone has a seat at the table.