ACHTUNG: This is not a “fair and balanced” article. It is an editorial by the editor.

When it was announced earlier this month that Teryl Shields has been selected as new director of the Main Street program for downtown Wayland, I couldn’t help but put her in my thoughts and prayers.

In other words, good luck, you’re going to need it. This will shape up as a daunting challenge.

I have four reasons for admitting to these terrible fears.

One is that the Main Street program has had five directors in the last seven years, a revolving door telltale sign of troubles.

Another important reason is that I too often see signs of a downtown severely depressed by the seven months of Covid-19, which serves as a deterrent rather than a stimulant for economic activity in a small town. I’m seeing too many empty storefronts, with nobody to blame, not even Gretchen. Whitmer.

A third is the wham-socko social science combination of the book “Bowling Alone” and the documentary film “Wal-Mart: The High Price of Low Cost.”

The fourth is my personal experience in 2006 while visiting Emporia, Kansas.

I read Prof. Robert Putnam’s “Bowling Alone” more than two decades ago and still consider it one of the most important examinations of American society over the last half century. It outlines how we Americans used to do many things collectively in our communities, activities such as barn raisings, fighting fires, serving in social organizations of do-gooders. But now, most of us drive to work and come home to eat and watch TV or surf the Internet and go to sleep. On weekends, many of us try to catch up on household chores.

The point is, we don’t often get together with others any more to do work on behalf of our communities. This phenomenon was a staple 50, 75 and 100 years ago, as dutifully reported in back issues of the Wayland Globe

The film documentary from 2005 examined the social costs of a retail giant such as Wal-Mart, which sucks local communities dry economically by offering goods and services cheaply.

I’ll never forget Jay L. Smith telling me why he had to shut down his family’s more than 100-year-old local business: “Lowe’s, Menard’s and Home Depot.”

This segues into what I saw 14 years ago in Emporia, Kansas, where my wife and I visited for a weekend because our son was competing in the steeplechase at the NCAA Division II national track championship meet.

When we finally arrived at our destination, we were greeted by a huge, gleaming “Super Wal-Mart” on top of a hill at the expressway exit. It was a massive and impressive building, selling just about everything you could imagine, including groceries.

After checking in to our hotel, we decided to go on the town, but while driving around, we were struck by how run down and sad the downtown was. All it had was flea markets, thrift stores and the occasional insurance agency, attorney’s office or Dollar store.

Don’t get me wrong. Insurance and attorney’s offices are necessary businesses in a community, but they aren’t customer destinations.

Because son Robby developed a bug before the race, we had to stop in at the pharmacy inside Wal-Mart. The place was packed with customers, just as you’d expect

I hear tell Emporia today is a town of almost 25,000 people, mostly because it is home to Emporia State University, where the track meet was being held. I also learned “The Onion” named it “The Best Small Town in America to Escape From.”

Wayland always has been a quaint “real nice place to raise your kids up.” It’s situated nicely on an expressway between two metropolitan areas. However, that too often leads to it becoming just a bedroom community.

Paraphrasing Charles Darwin, it isn’t the strongest or smartest that survive, but those with the ability to adapt to changing conditions.

Will Wayland survive “Bowling Alone?”