During our recent snowstorm I backed into a pickup, nicking its rear fender. I waited about 15 minutes but the driver didn't appear.

Time is precious so I left my name and phone number on the windshield and reported the damage to my insurance company, Farm Bureau. I explained my fault, gave them the vehicle's description and license tag number, and awaited the owner's irate call. It never came.

Instead, three days later, I got the following. "Are you the guy who hit my truck?" I apologized and admitted my blame. "Thanks for leaving your name and number. I'm grateful." I explained that I had advised my insurer and they were waiting for repair estimates.

"Oh," he responded, "I checked and it will cost too much for a little ding. Won't it hurt your rates?" Don't worry, just have it repaired, I urged. "Nope. It's an old truck and you didn't really hurt it. But thanks a lot for leaving your name."

I stay in Montana by choice. Most folks are just flat out nice. This, I'm afraid, is becoming an anachronism-but one I value. And not because I'm in the habit of bumping vehicles. Rather, such concern for others is a cherished virtue. I sincerely hope we keep it-but the odds are against this outcome. Here's why.

Montana has become a magnet for the active and well off. They can buy the lead in their own "Western movie," one they direct and in which they star.

Few have achieved this status by accident. Financial success is usually won by the smart, honest, and ambitious-and by those who carefully calculate personal advantage. The latter rarely correlates with the kind of "niceness" which motivated the victim of my bad driving.

Here are examples by Carol Bradley in the Great Falls Tribune of January 27. A recent arrival and large ranch owner was described: His "…unconventional business practices may not be illegal, but they are on the far edge of what is considered acceptable."

Another newcomer demolished an 1885 cookhouse and a 1930s rock storage shed listed on the National Register of Historic Places. These buildings were victims as he modernized the historic ranch.

Also, his neighboring ranchers who need access to their cattle via his land now must contact a crew member to unlock the gate. An exasperated neighbor exclaimed, "It might be he needs to learn to respect local property owners…. He's made at times life pretty miserable." New landowners often revoke the traditional rights of locals to hunt, fish, and recreate on their spread. They lack multiple, time-honed contacts with others. This breeds resentment toward newcomers. Would the guy whose pickup I hit lock his neighbors out? I think not.

I used to be an anthropologist of sorts, an elected member of the American Anthropo-logical Association. I learned the importance of local cultures. Cultures, like ecosystems and economies, evolve. Selective pressures foster certain behaviors and penalize others.

Aside from snow and ski lifts, is Bridger Bowl like Big Sky? Clearly not, but why not? The answer to this question tells us a lot about the future of Montana.

Our economic history is of people working with material stuff: wheat, wood, wool, water, and minerals. Today our mines are marginal at best. Wheat and wool are at historically low prices and our best timber has been harvested. The traditional economy limps along on fragments and shards. Our future ain't what it used to be.

I doubt if any family could purchase agricultural property in the Northern Rockies, make it pay its way, and earn a decent living from it. Despite hard work and generations of experience behind us, my wife and I have learned we can't. However, those best at manipulating symbols-financial derivatives, entertainment, and software-do exceedingly well. They can buy ranches and cast their own "part in a movie."

Unfortunately, these fly-in folks usually have little stake in the community. Essentially, their history and money grants immunity from the social norms characterizing rural areas. Their new neighbors aren't in their reference group. This is a profound change in our economy and culture.

Forces far beyond our control drive this transformation. The key to successful accommodation requires recognition of this relentless change. Our best bet is to prepare our children for the changing economy and rejoice in their success. Only excellent education will provide it. This, not attempts to recapture the past, is our best investment. Buy it.