Americans are a notoriously mobile people.  Families relocate to new places with remarkable frequency.  Traditionally, moves are motivated by better employment opportunities. Going to the Bakken oil patch is an obvious example.  No one goes there to enhance immediate quality of life. Money is the motivator. 

Salary and wages surely are not the only consideration when people contemplate a move.  These factors are shrinking while community and amenities grow in importance.  Here is one contributor to this change; these features are not taxed in any specific manner.   However resourceful the taxing authorities, community and amenities are hard for them to measure and capture.  

Naturally, places scoring high on these variables become ever more seductive.  This is one reason places with Bozeman's attributes are becoming more attractive.   (Also, Montana governments at all levels are comparatively responsive and respectful of citizens.  Even public monopolies such as license bureaus try to be nice, some times amazingly so. ) 

It is easy to identify the specific advantages of places in rich amenity-sheds.  That is why Bozemanesque towns rank highly on national surveys; easy access to outdoor opportunities, good (or great) air transportation, universities, high culture, the list goes on.  But these lists don't and can't capture something quite important, sense of community.  Yet, although econometricians cannot easily measure it, some people intuit these qualities.   And then they want to relocate in places scoring high. 

Here is an example.  It requires a photo and an explanation of its context.  Your dermatologist would understand.

I grew up spending much time in the sun--and well before sunscreen.  I'm paying for it now.  Fortunately, the concern and competence of two Bozeman physicians and the availability of improved medical technology reduced the consequences.

For some years I've been treated for skin damage.  Liquid nitrogen is easy and painless. But it's not a cure-all.  Sometimes more intrusive measures come due.  As a result, to prevent skin cancer, I had some laser surgery on my nose.  The short-term result wasn't pretty.  (I'll spare the reader that photo.) 

After the procedure I needed to protect my skin.  I was to avoid the sun and exposure to cold until healing was well underway.  That implied small bandages over and around my nose, and wearing a cap and protective sunglasses.  Minus the baggy pants, I resembled a rodeo clown. 

Uncomfortable in public, I stayed around home for nearly two weeks.  The one time I went out many of those who recognized me asked some version of: "What happened to you?"  While I felt far better than my appearance suggested, this soon became a tiring question. 

Toward the end of the two weeks I had cabin fever, needed supplies, and had some pressing bank business.  Town was calling.  I left the ranch shop in my rather sorry work clothing, I had been refinishing a desk, and headed off to run my Bozeman errands. 

This was a bit premature.  I should have changed clothing, applied a smaller, neater bandage, and put on different sun-glasses.  The fishing/skiing glasses I wore were a bit excessive for town business.

Ten minutes from town I remembered a sign at the customer entrance of the Bank of Bozeman: "Remove sunglasses, caps, and hoods before entering".  What ever its provocation, that sign was not there by accident.  Bank managers were apprehensive; the American Bank had been held up a couple of years before as had a pizza shop only days ago.  Also, a felon had just escaped from our Law and Justice Center and was at large.

I was going to the Kagy Branch of Stockman Bank.  What if the receptionist didn't recognize me?  Might Carol be off and a new person at her station?  Would she see a somewhat masked man with dark glasses enter, become apprehensive, and hit an alarm? 

Small chance but why risk it.  So I didn't.  Instead, I had the number of Stockman's president, Jim Drummond, in my IPhone.   Jim's office is at the Kagy Branch so I called him with a small request.  "Jim, will you please tell the receptionist that I'm about to arrive but look unusual.  I am bandaged across my nose and wearing shades.  And no, I'm not coming in to hold up your bank."  OK, Jim said, no problem.  I'll meet you at the door. 

He did--and this is what I saw:

As I entered Stockman Bank its president and his colleagues were facing the entrance--with bandages over their noses! I felt warmth and acceptance.  How could this bizarre event happen with ten minutes warning?  And how could I ever forget Stockman Bank's expression of acceptance and community?  (And BTW, this Stockman branch hosted Warriors and Quiet Waters board meetings for years.  They did so at no charge until WQW obtained its own space in 2013.  I realize that is one reason why Stockman Bank's colleagues know and accommodate me.) 

Perhaps not all customers would be greeted as I was--but few people here would be amazed by anything other than the creativity shown.  Something similar might happen at any bank in towns resembling Bozeman.  Such places demonstrate integration among businesses, individual citizens, governmental units, and non-profit organizations.

This sense of community adds immensely to the quality of life of those who elect to live here. 

Here is something I learned decades ago and it rings ever more true; the things economists measure best are not those that matter most.  Community is one such variable.  I believe this recent photo in the lobby of our Stockman Bank illustrates my claim quite well.