Recently, Tom Schnaubelt highlighted Stanford’s demographic disparity between the percentage of rural Americans and rural Stanford students (19.3% nationally versus. 5% at Stanford). I’m an urban/rural mutt. While I didn’t solely grow up in rural America (I went to high school in Denver), I did most of my growing in rural America. For my whole life, I have worked on my Dad’s sheep and cattle ranch in northwest Colorado outside the town of Craig (pop. 8,922). I’ve memorized short cut keys in Manhattan, pulled baby lambs from their mothers, answered angry constituent calls in DC and pushed cattle on a cattle drive … again, I’m a mutt. And that is why I can confidently say, rural America is better than urbanites think it is. There is something that farms have that this Farm doesn’t: clarity.

This rural America, my rural America, isn’t full of Southern swamps, Midwestern flat fields or Appalachian hills. My rural America is the wide open, big sky, Rocky Mountain and cattle-filled rural America. My rural America is different than Stanford, and while suffering, it isn’t the ‘back-water’ that some students believe it is.

Rural America has a lot of problems. Craig has high drug rates, struggling micro-economies, low diversity, aging professionals and disappearing institutions. None of that is unique to Craig or rural America. But Craig isn’t just those problems. Craig is a community, with realness and legacy that yield a clarity that has guided me, and I think many at Stanford could learn from it, too.

Craig is full of cousins, business partners, friends and neighbors. But, it isn’t just produce-aisle smiles at Walmart, dusty road waves and gas station chitchat. When my ranch caught on fire three years ago, emergency personnel had to put a sign up on the side of the road: “Please don’t call 911.” The fire department was receiving so many calls from faceless friends and unknown neighbors that it was overwhelming their dispatcher. This was far from the bystander training I’ve known elsewhere. In my rural America, everyone has a face. It is harder to feel isolated. There is something empowering about being known. In the middle of one of the least dense counties in Colorado, it is hard to fade away.

Experiences bond the community together. While Stanford has the freshman dorm experience – the draw, etc. – Craig has something different. Most people aren’t ranchers in Craig, but most share a realness that comes from nature. Stanford makes it easy to get lost in paper mazes. But something about working with, against, for and because of mother nature changes the perspective. I remember being lost with my Dad on horseback in the White River National Forest looking for the trail as the sun set over the final ridge. I remember waking up at 4 a.m. to get to the sheep before they got off the bed ground. I remember that tight feeling in my chest as I turned on my heels and ran from that bull. These stories, these near misses, ‘got lucky-s’ and ‘got ‘er done-s’ tan a thick hide. The real world grit that this lifestyle inspires makes stressful papers, p-sets and exams feel hollow. There is a calm to my rural America. It’s not a quiet calm; my hours were longer on Kourlis Ranch than Wall Street. It is a hardening calm.

These shared stories create a shared legacy. Every child is told by his father about how this rancher lost his land in a drought, this man figured out how to sell cars, this mechanic used to be the best, etc. We are all educated on our families’ histories and where they intertwine and conflict. My grandfather and his peers built the church I was baptized in. And each family that contributed to building that church has a different story. Everyone knows where the footsteps of the past are, and this creates a shared sense of legacy. We are all continuing each one of our lines into the modern era. Each generation adds to the story. And subsequently, each generation is responsible to uphold their line’s good name.

My rural America is a place of community, realness and legacy. It is about the circle of life, good relationships and straight shooting. My rural America is the farthest thing from ‘backwater’ that I know of. In fact, they have things figured out that urban America doesn’t. But, urban America has things figured out that rural America doesn’t too.

So, as Stanford pursues increased rural engagement, I hope it can do so through discussion, not lecture. Rural America needs to listen, and Stanford can help. But Stanford needs to listen too, and rural America can help.

Contact Tom Kourlis at tkourlis ‘at’ stanford.edu