New editor likes what he sees in the Valley

Hi there.

My name is Matt Hickman and since Tuesday I’ve been the managing editor of the Mat-Su Valley Frontiersman.

I arrived one week ago today after covering two states, three provinces and one territory via the vaunted Al-Can Highway in my 2014 Hyundai Veloster — all to get here, the Mat-Su Valley.

It’s proven to be well worth the trip.

Not only was I instantly won over and humbled by the natural beauty and might of the Alaskan landscape — as any newcomer would be — I’ve been as impressed with the people of this area, particularly their conviviality, their intelligence and their willingness to own their opinions.

Everyone I’ve encountered, or in most cases eavesdropped upon, seems to have something of value to say. Even looking at the pages of this newspaper, I’ve been impressed by how many people take the time to write guest columns and letters to the editor. Even the Faith page has numerous religious leaders contributing their thoughts in ways that don’t come off as particularly heavy-handed or preachy.

The amount of local issues discussed on talk radio is also something you don’t see other places.

It’s clear that the people of the Mat-Su Valley are invested in the issues and know what they’re talking about.

Right about now, I can guess what you’re thinking: Yeah, he probably says this to all the girls.

Actually, not at all.

The place I drove from last week — Williston, North Dakota, at the heart of the Bakken oil boom — does not share these characteristics.

There, opinions are something that simply aren’t shared in polite society — it’s just not a part of the culture. Some there would defend this deafening quietness as “North Dakota Nice”, which, in many cases, isn’t niceness at all — quite the contrary — it’s passive aggressiveness.

There, you could scream the editorial equivalent of ‘Fire’, ‘Wolf’ or, ‘The British are coming,” and hear nary a peep, waiting in an eerie silence until people’s reactions came filtered through a handful of unofficial spokespeople.

On the flip side, the sense of community in North Dakota was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Everybody knew everybody. Everyone was there to help their neighbor and bring as many friends as they could into the fold. Community events were wildly well attended and warmed by a palpable sense of connectedness.

Prior to Williston, I worked for years in Sierra Vista, Arizona, in the southeast corner of the state, about an hour’s drive from Tucson.

There, everyone, it seems, has an opinion; some of them well reasoned and articulate, and others the two-bit ramblings of know-it-alls and conspiracy theorists. There, the willingness to share one’s thoughts on a matter — pretty much any matter — is never in short-supply.

What lacks there, though, is the overall sense of community that was so present in North Dakota. Lots of folks move to the desert for the expressed purpose of not having to know their neighbor; to carve out a piece of land all their own, and drive their flag and their point of view right onto their property.

It seems there’s a give-and-take pretty much anywhere you go: foster a strong marketplace of ideas, thoughts and opinion and you’re bound to sacrifice some degree of community.

I guess that’s what I like so much about the Mat-Su Valley, so far. It seems to me a place where everyone is as confident as Arizonans in sharing their opinions, yet they desire to know and connect with their neighbors the way they do in North Dakota.

You don’t find that just anywhere.

If, in my time in the Mat-Su Valley, The Frontiersman is looked at as a place where people come to be connected to community, and to share freely and openly in the marketplace of ideas, it will have been an unequivocal success.

It doesn’t really matter to me what your opinion is — be it liberal, conservative, fantastical or practical — all I care about is that you’re willing to share your opinions enthusiastically, get to the point, and write in a mostly respectful manner.

I’m glad to be here, and I look forward to meeting — and debating — with all of you.