ODESSA, Texas — When the pandemic started, Michelle Villegas was in 6th grade. Now she's finishing up middle school, but not without some unpleasant memories from remote middle school.

"The tests would just, it would just load and load and load. Like I hated seeing that circle was just, it was in my nightmares, the circle!" she said.

The nightmarish loading circle is something that so many families across the nation can relate to as the pandemic exposed a weak link in rural America’s access to the internet. Michelle's mom says her heart broke watching her daughter struggle just to simply join a class.

"It was stressful, it was overwhelming, it was frustrating," she said.

The Villegas live on the outskirts of Odessa, Texas – a boom or bust oil town that’s one of many spots on the map without access to reliable internet.

According to the FCC, 6% of the country’s population lacks internet access. Narrowing in on rural communities, one in four lacks access – that’s 14.5 million people.

"I couldn't get on and I would call my mom crying because I was like, mom, I'm going to fail this. Like, my grades are so low because I can't do this," Michelle recounted.

Scott Muri is the superintendent in Ector County, where Odessa is located. When the pandemic hit and they had to move to remote learning over the course of a weekend, they found that 39% of their student body lived in areas with inadequate internet or no internet at all.

"Many of our kids do not live in an area of our community, that even if they had the money, they could access the internet, it's simply didn't exist," said Muri.

With that large of a percentage of students that couldn’t log on for remote school, they had to think of solutions. So they decided to shoot their shot and contacted SpaceX to be a part of their Starlink internet access pilot project and the multi-billion dollar company said yes.

"This big dad started to cry because he understood as a parent, what that a simple little dish was going to mean for his children because he had watched his kids struggle mightily to connect with their teachers," he said.

What Ector County has is a unique public-private partnership. However, federal dollars will trickle into tackling this same issue nationwide. $45 billion dollars from the infrastructure bill is going toward equitable broadband access.

"I think we need to appreciate broadband as a utility. You know, it is not a special thing that only certain people have. It is not something that you earn through wealth. It is something that is a right and a privilege and an opportunity for every American," he said.

Next year, Michelle is entering high school and both her and her mom are relieved to have reliable service because it will help put her on an equal playing field for the rest of her education.

"Everything is technology now. And if you don't have a good internet source, you're not going to be caught up with everything that's happening now. Like you're going to be left in the past," said Michelle.

ELMORE, Vt.  — As general stores in small towns across the country become victims to ever-expanding chain stores and supermarkets, some communities are successfully fighting back to save their beloved rural fixtures through new community funding efforts.

First opened in the early 1800s, the Elmore Store in Elmore, Vermont, has been a fixture of this town tucked next to a lake. It has all the usual staples and also serves as the post office. In this northern Vermont community without cell service, the Elmore Store has been a hub of communication and commerce for two centuries.

But back in 2019, the longtime owners put it up for sale. This tight-knit community worried that this place would be shuttered, like so many other small town stores in America. So, the town of Elmore, home to just 800 people, decided to do something.

"Everybody in town was worried about what would happen to the store," said Trevor Braun, a life-long Elmore resident.

Braun now sits on the board for the Elmore Community Trust a group formed to save the Elmore Store. Through an aggressive fundraising campaign in this tiny corner of rural America, they raised the $400,000 needed to buy the building.

"A large majority of donations were small donations from community members; $20 here and $25 dollars there added up over time," Braun added.

Back in January, Kate Gluckman and her husband, Mike, took over running the store. They don't own the building itself though. That's where the community trust comes in. The nonprofit owns the brick-and-mortar and is responsible for upkeep and maintenance.

"We want to preserve those spaces and preserve that way of life," Gluckman said.

All of that gives these small business owners a chance to focus on running a business, while at the same time ensuring this small town doesn't lose its store.

"I do think it is an innovative way to preserve these important spaces," she added.

At the turn of the 20th century, general stores could be found in nearly every American community. But in the 1930s, supermarkets began to spring up. Unable to compete, general stores closed from coast to coast.

Ben Doyle with the Preservation Society of Vermont says the Green Mountain State has lost at least 30 general stores in the last few decades.

"It can be really devastating for a community a real sense of loss, of community identity," he said.

But this preservationist is seeing more communities using the trust model to save small-town stores. Some rural towns are even in the process of reopening stores that have been closed for years.

"The store can actually focus on being a store. The landlord isn't trying to make a buck they're trying to make sure the mission of community vitality lives on," he said.

JUNIATA, Neb. — Dreams look and sound different to everyone.

To Levi Gorsuch and Danny Leonard, life on their ranch is their dream progressing in real time

"They joke if you can work cows together, you can survive anything," said Leonard.

While Gorsuch was born into ranching, his husband, a doctor from San Diego, serendipitously stumbled into it after they met

They own B Bar L Hereford Cattle, where they raise bulls to sell for breeding. It’s not an easy life in the least, yet it’s something they love to work for.

"We start when the sun's down and we go till the sun goes back down," said Gorsuch.

Gorsuch and Leonard weren't sure how they would be accepted in rural America, but they have been greeted with open arms in Juniata, Nebraska.

Aside from raising cattle, Leonard works as a pediatrician and Gorsuch coaches high school volleyball.

They say their neighbors have embraced them as dedicated community members and hard workers.

"I think a huge misconception among the LGBTQ+ community is that you have to harbor and grow and experience in an isolated way only in cities," said Leonard. "It wasn't until I met my six-foot-four cowboy moving out here that I leaned that, not only is it the two of us, there is actually a huge network of LGBTQ+ people in agriculture, in ranching, in livestock management."

The couple documents their life on social media, which has allowed them to mak connections with others with similar backgrounds.

There’s greater LGBTQ+ representation in rural communities than one may think. A 2019 study by thinktank Movement Advancement Projects estimates 2.8 million to 3.9 million members of the LGBTQ community live in rural areas. That’s 3% to 5% of all rural Americans.

Even with the representation already there, Leonard and Gorsuch say keeping an open mind about rural Americans and upholding their responsibilities to their neighbors, has made life work for them.

"Every single day, every single exposure, every single conversation educates you. And, if you are willing to listen with the same regard that you were hoping to be heard by this community as you found yourself, I think you'll, I think you'll make it work," said Gorsuch.

"I just encourage young people or any people of any age who want to make the move to just do it," said Leonard. "The rest falls into place."

If Sheriff Aaron Appelhans has one message, it’s that change can happen anywhere.

Born in a big city, Appelhans never thought he’d go into law enforcement, but life has a way of changing directions when a local chief approached him about an officer job.

"Truth be told, I told him, I was like, 'I'm not a big fan of law enforcement. That's not something I think I really want to do,'" he laughed.

He ended up becoming something he loved. Ten years later, a new opportunity knocked—to become the Albany County Sheriff, and in turn, become Wyoming’s first-ever Black sheriff.

"I was like, well, there's an opportunity, you know, it's and I knew that the agency had a whole host of issues, some of which that I figured I could definitely deal with that," he said.

Although he’s had the position for about a year, he’s already made changes to the department.

"When you work within the system, you can see the things that it does well, you can see its flaws. You can see its loopholes, you can see all of its cracks," he said.

His main goal is to fix the culture. In a rural town in the middle of the country, he made the department more transparent in dealing with the public. He started making the path to drug and alcohol rehab for repeat offenders clearer and he focused on recruitment, specifically who he was recruiting.

"Law enforcement traditionally has a really terrible job in terms of recruitment. They recruit the same type of people over and over and over again. And it creates these situations you see across the country where maybe your police force doesn't necessarily represent the community that you serve," said Appelhans.

In less than a year, he’s filled 19 deputy positions with people of different backgrounds and ethnicities. Some of the people on the force haven’t liked the changes and left. Appelhans has even fired someone for past racist behavior, but he says all these are necessary steps toward cultural change.

"We're in the people business and we're not into excluding people, so we're going to be as inclusive as we possibly can."

He’s looking to hire three more people in the coming months, continuing to build his vision of a more inclusive, community-focused force.

As his story spreads of what he’s able to do in a small town, he wants to make it clear: change can happen in the most unlikely places, and anyone interesting in making that change shouldn’t be afraid to take that initial step.

"Sometimes you gotta be the first so that second, third and fourth can thrive as well," he said. "So, take that chance. Got to take that opportunity when it comes in and then go create that opportunity for yourself."

STANTON, Iowa — Small towns are often known for their charm and community spirit.

Jenna Ramsey is the community development director of Stanton. It's a small town located in southwest Iowa.

“Stanton is a small but mighty community with Swedish heritage," Ramsey said. "Our population is 689. Wherever you go, you know people. There’s no stoplights. You can run in and get a cup of coffee.”

While she says Stanton is a very affordable place to live compared to a larger city, it still lacks affordable housing for young families.

“We just know that all the costs of everything seem to be going up right now, so that is what makes the affordable housing challenging,” Ramsey said.

Small towns all over rural Iowa are facing the same issue. To keep the communities growing and thriving, they’re turning to innovative solutions like 3D-printed homes.

“We are building the first prototype 3D-printed home here in Hamburg, Iowa,” said Tamara Brunow, founder and president of Brunow Contracting.

Brunow is a key partner in the 3D Affordable Housing Project.

“I'm very passionate about affordable housing because I needed affordable housing at one point in my life," Brunow said. "I was a single mom for 13 years and I had the luxury of having a house that was fairly affordable to me. What we're seeing right now in the housing industry, the starting point, the entry point is so cost-prohibitive to young families and a lot of areas, they're just not going there.”

On an empty patch of land in Hamburg, the hope is to build 25 to 35 residential units that will be for sale to future homeowners. The 3D Affordable Housing Project is a collaboration between Brunow Contracting, Iowa Economic Development Authority, and Iowa State University.

Julie Robison works in the college of design at Iowa State University. She says it will be a learning process to find out whether 3D-printed homes will actually save money.

“Part of our work is going to be to actually answer that question, what are the benefits of 3D printing?" Robison said. "We think that you can reduce the amount of time that it takes to actually construct homes, that you can seriously reduce the amount of time and labor hours to put up walls.”

Brunow says they will be testing materials, design, and energy efficiency to confirm if using 3D-printing technology will be a sustainable solution for affordable housing in rural Iowa.

“The places 3D-printed homes have been implemented right now, are in the South," Brunow said. "They don't have the swing and temperature difference that we do up here in the Midwest. So we deal with a lot of freeze-thaw. We have wind loads, snow loads. So all of that engineering has to kind of go back to the basics.”

If it does work out, they hope to expand into other small towns around Iowa, potentially serving as a national model for the entire Midwest. Robison says the project will also allow the university to develop a curriculum for workforce training to help educate the next generation.

“Our mission is transformation and research and technology-driven outcomes that can then change the economy and change lives,” Robison said.

Even though technology will be what draws people to the small towns, it’s the human connection that will keep them there.

“Especially since the pandemic, people want that sense of community, they want to know who their neighbors are," Brunow said. "They want to be a part of something.”

 

CONWAY, N.H. — Mother Nature is rarely kind to Mt. Washington. On a recent fall morning, the New Hampshire's tallest peak was bathed in blue skies as tourists from all over the world flocked here to catch one final glimpse of foliage.

This mountain is home to the highest recorded man-measured wind speed in the world and it is also home to the world’s first mountain-climbing train, The Cog Railway.

The operation is about as small-business as they come. Each diesel-powered engine is custom built in a warehouse at the base of Mt. Washington. Like many businesses across the country though, The Cog is being faced with a shortage of mechanics and engineers needed to keep this place going.

"New Hampshire has had a hard time with keeping skilled workers. They always tend to leave out of state," said Rob Arey, who works for the railway.

But the old Cog Railway first constructed in 1868 is about to offer new opportunities to a whole new generation of the workforce.

The idea is simple, connect students at nearby White Mountains Community College with job training opportunities working on those diesel engines which power The Cog Railway. Not only will the program help get graduating students into a job pipeline that desperately needs them, the concept is also being deployed in hopes of keeping students from leaving rural communities like this one once they graduate.

A term typically referred to as “rural flight.”

"This is the first step in us keeping our kids here in the local schools, learning here, falling in love with us as a place to work," Rob Arey added.

Marc Poulit is an instructor at nearby White Mountains Community College. He has about 30 students in his program, all of whom are now eligible to apply for the new internship program.

"We are really planting that seed and thinking about, 'I don’t need to move out of state to get a good-paying job,'" Poulit said.

Perhaps the biggest challenge when it comes to keeping students in rural communities after they graduate is pay. On average, new graduates can earn 15% more on their first job if they move to a big city. That is often a gamechanger for new graduates especially if they have student loans to pay off.

Back at the Cog, they are anxiously awaiting the arrival of new students. While this railway may be old the technology, what they’re using here is more complex than most Amtrak trains, providing a perfect opportunity for the next generation of engineers and mechanics to train on.

"The way this facility was built is for the future. It’s all technology they may not even get at the community college. It’s exciting they get to come in here and learn it first hand," said Rob Arey with The Cog.

Like the trains here themselves, the hope is the whole idea will keep students careers climbing in the communities they call home.

Rural hospitals across the country are in a difficult spot right now. COVID-19 is hitting them harder than many metropolitan hospitals as they deal with issues of lower staffing.

According to the National Center for Biotechnology Information, about 20% of our nation’s population lives in rural areas, yet less than 9% of our nation’s physicians practice there.

Add on the fact that according to CDC data, COVID is killing rural Americans at a rate 3.5 times higher than those living in metropolitan areas, and this issue is affecting staff and patient care.

“I’m very worried about rural health care because rural health care is teetering on the brink right now,” said Dr. Kurt Papenfus, an ER doctor at Keefe Memorial Hospital in rural Cheyenne Wells, Colorado. “There’s a darkness in this illness that I can’t say I’ve said about any other illness.

In late October, Dr. Papenfus contracted COVID-19 as he was traveling back from the Northeast to visit his daughter.

“I was very cognizant and was wearing a mask at all times, social distancing, and washing my hands,” Papenfus said. “But I remember having this thought on the train that this is a super-spreader event.”

When he got home, Papenfus got tested and was confirmed positive for COVID-19. The diagnosis put Keefe Memorial in a tailspin as he served as the only ER doctor in the small 25-bed hospital.

“We are a trauma level four hospital so keeping that physician on staff 24/7 is what we are required to do,” said Stella Worley, Keefe Memorial’s CEO. “And it is getting to be more of a challenge to have hired physicians out here in rural [America].”

Within minutes of learning of Dr. Papenfus’ COVID-positive diagnosis, Worley was on the phone with several different hospitals working to find a replacement. Within a few hours, they had settled on a former ER doctor who moved to another hospital in Texas a few months prior.

After she agreed, Keefe Memorial paid the doctor to drive 10 hours from Texas to Colorado and fill in immediately as Papenfus recovered at home for the next two weeks.

“Worst-case scenario is you would have to divert patients if there’s no one in the door to care,” said Worley.

Populations in rural America tend to be older, poorer, and less insured than the nation at large, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures.

Since 2010, hospital closures in rural America have been growing as there have been 118, including 17 last year.

The closures only exacerbate a growing lack of health care coverage in rural America, said Dr. Dan Derksen, a rural health care expert and family physician

“Once a critical access hospital (25 beds with a 24/7 emergency department and at least 35 miles from another facility) closes, they almost never come back,” he said.