He didn’t set out to become a civic leader, he just wanted a glass of wine. After two, he found himself in charge of a scrappy, all-volunteer Chamber of Commerce in California’s Sierra Nevada foothills.
After twenty years solving complex organizational problems, the challenges should’ve been familiar enough: limited resources, competing priorities, overextended people, and an organization that needed to change.
But in a small, unincorporated town, the line between leading an organization and serving a community gets blurry fast.
Embracing the Local follows one year of small-town leadership through a struggling economy, damaged Christmas trees, parade fees, volunteer exhaustion, bizarre phone calls, and at least one situation that sounded suspiciously deep-state for a nonprofit in the Sierras.
Along the way, a man accustomed to finding solutions discovers what actually holds a community together. Beautiful places don’t run on charm alone. They run on tired people, fragile institutions, stretched businesses, thin trust, and the dangerous expectation that someone will always step up.
Funny when it shouldn't be, candid when it needs to be, and never intentionally sentimental, Embracing the Local is about the lure of belonging, the work of community, the limits of leadership, and the cost of helping.
He didn’t set out to become a civic leader, he just wanted a glass of wine. After two, he found himself in charge of a scrappy, all-volunteer Chamber of Commerce in California’s Sierra Nevada foothills.
After twenty years solving complex organizational problems, the challenges should’ve been familiar enough: limited resources, competing priorities, overextended people, and an organization that needed to change.
But in a small, unincorporated town, the line between leading an organization and serving a community gets blurry fast.
Embracing the Local follows one year of small-town leadership through a struggling economy, damaged Christmas trees, parade fees, volunteer exhaustion, bizarre phone calls, and at least one situation that sounded suspiciously deep-state for a nonprofit in the Sierras.
Along the way, a man accustomed to finding solutions discovers what actually holds a community together. Beautiful places don’t run on charm alone. They run on tired people, fragile institutions, stretched businesses, thin trust, and the dangerous expectation that someone will always step up.
Funny when it shouldn't be, candid when it needs to be, and never intentionally sentimental, Embracing the Local is about the lure of belonging, the work of community, the limits of leadership, and the cost of helping.
I got involved with our local chamber of commerce the way people get involved in most things in small towns: by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was a hot Thursday afternoon in June, and Michael and I had wandered into the wine bar we’d been going to since we were tourists. I generally avoided the wine bar on Thursdays because the Chamber board met there. It wasn’t personal. I just thought Chamber board meetings sounded like the sort of thing that should happen to other people.
Sure enough, a meeting was underway. They were discussing an upcoming event. I sat at the bar with Michael, ordered my Malbec, and tried hard not to listen.
In the moment, walking in felt random.
Looking back, it feels like the only way this story could have started.
I can’t remember why I overcame my better judgment, but two Malbecs in, I inserted myself into the conversation, as one does after two glasses of wine.
Michael’s right eyebrow twitched—not surprise, just a skeptical question. It’s his tell: Really?
Undeterred, I kept talking. I felt heard and appreciated, and that made it easier to disregard his eyebrow.
Then somebody hugged me, which is how they get you.
So I went to the next meeting.
And the next.
Before long, I was on the board.
Michael, sensibly, remained a civilian.
A couple of months later, a few board members and business owners asked me to run for Chamber president. It was a one-year term, which I found deeply reassuring.
That part may have been less random than wandering into the wine bar.
The Chamber had survived the pandemic, barely, but it had not come back completely. Three years after the world had returned to normal, Chamber membership still hadn’t.
I don’t think they recruited me because of my charm. They hadn’t known me well enough yet. My main appeal to them was what I do for a living: I get paid to help organizations figure out why systems that used to work no longer do.
They may not have known the mechanics of how I do that. Most days I barely want to hear myself explain it. But they understood enough: I had a skill set, the Chamber had a problem, and small towns are very good at noticing when a person owns a shovel.
One thing led to another, and I was elected.
Full disclosure: I was the only person gullible enough to put my name on the ballot. I got fifteen votes.
I thought at the time, perhaps with more confidence than votes, that some combination of useful experience, misplaced confidence, and whatever charm I could get away with would be enough. It may have been arrogant, but I didn’t think I was walking into the role unprepared.
As it turns out, I did not understand what I had gotten myself into.
Not even a little bit.
This is the story of how a guy who walked into a wine bar for a glass or two of Malbec accidentally became responsible for things.
Picture this: A man stops by a bar for a drink and ends up discovering he has an important part to play in his community’s future. That man is Glen Cantrell. In his book, Embracing the Local: Extension Cords and All, he shares how Twain Harte welcomed him and how he worked with the locals and Chamber of Commerce members to help the town grow.
Embracing the Local strongly evaluates the functions of Chambers of Commerce and explores humanity, immersing readers in the warm, welcoming community of Twain Harte. Cantrell writes from the perspectives of an outsider, an insider, and, most importantly, the president of the Chamber of Commerce.
The book offers valuable insights into how Chambers of Commerce are governed, especially regarding their everyday operations. Cantrell emphasizes that the Chamber relies on dedicated members and a cooperative community to deliver on its mandate. He reveals that business owners have much to share, mainly their challenges and achievements, and if listened to, they could significantly contribute to a community’s social and economic growth. In addition, he confirms that there's so much we can do when we’re united; a Facebook post about a business struggling to stay open paints the grim picture of challenges faced by business owners and the positive response from the members of the community.
How is Embracing the Local different from other books? To answer this question, one must begin with Cantrell’s voice. He’s friendly, opening the book with the most significant turning point of his life, which pulls the reader along and doesn’t let go. Whether Cantrell was qualified and worthy of the presidency position, again, this book brings out Cantrell’s character. He’d been a problem solver before coming to Twain Harte, and during his tenure, he remained approachable. His story reminds the readers that while some towns are small and might seem unwelcoming, especially for outsiders, at their core they’re always looking forward to embracing and being embraced by a newcomer. He recalls being called a flatlander, he and his family, which implied they were outsiders, yet with time he removed that tag by getting involved with the people of Twain Harte. In a nutshell, he strikes a balance between narrating his own story and Twain Harte’s.
Overall, Embracing the Local is a book that doesn’t pretend to fix humanity’s issues but advocates for genuine human connections and interactions. It encourages readers to deepen their bonds with their communities by remaining connected and supportive.