A question posted this week in a local Facebook group caught my attention:

The comments quickly filled with the usual mix of opinions. Some people said they love it here. Others said they regret moving here. Some described Brunswick as diverse and welcoming. Others called it conservative and slow.

Reading through the discussion got me thinking about why I moved here in the first place.

A little over 20 years ago, I chose Brunswick after spending years in the Washington, D.C. area. And honestly, some of the reasons had less to do with Brunswick itself and more to do with what I wanted to get away from.

In D.C., one of the first things people often ask when they meet you is:

"What do you do for a living?"

Followed closely by:

"What neighborhood do you live in?"

They're innocent enough questions, but over time I realized they were often shorthand for something else. People were trying to figure out where you fit in the pecking order. D.C. is a city built around power, status, influence, and ambition. That's not entirely bad—it's part of what makes the city work—but it can be tiresome.

Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Traffic was relentless enough to drive people mad. Weekends weren't often much better than weekdays. The pace never really slowed down.

One memory has always stuck with me.

My daughter was a toddler and just learning how to interact with people. We were checking out at a grocery store when she happily said "Hey!" to the cashier.

The cashier ignored her.

My daughter tried again.

Finally, the woman looked at her and said:

"I don't respond to 'hey!'"

Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe it was nothing. But it felt symbolic of a culture where people were often too busy, too stressed, or too focused on themselves to engage with the people around them.

When I moved to Brunswick, one of the first things I noticed was that people acknowledged each other.

Walk around downtown Brunswick and you'll still see it today. People make eye contact. They nod. They say hello. Not every person, every time, but often enough that you notice it.

I used to joke that in D.C. you could be lying on the sidewalk bleeding and people would simply walk around you because they were late for a meeting.

The other thing I worried about before moving here was something the Facebook poster mentioned: racism.

If I'm being honest, I had concerns too.

What I discovered was that reality was far more complicated than the stereotypes I had grown up hearing.

In my own experience, I encountered far more narrow-mindedness, classism, and racial tension in and around Washington than I ever found in coastal Georgia.

That doesn't mean prejudice doesn't exist here. It exists everywhere. But I realized that the picture I'd been sold—that the South was full of ignorant racists while everyone elsewhere was enlightened and accepting—simply wasn't true.

Like most stereotypes, it turned out to be a lazy shortcut.

Another topic that always comes up is crime.

And yes, Brunswick has crime. I've been a victim of it here.

But I've also been a victim of crime in nearly every place I've ever lived.

In San Diego, someone broke into our home through a window and stole the silver coins my grandfather had given me, taking them right out of my piggy bank. As a kid, that one felt personal. In Baltimore, someone smashed my car window and stole my prized cassette collection — nearly 200 carefully curated tapes that I still miss to this day. In Alabama, a thief cleaned out my apartment, taking my TV, stereo, speakers, and all of my audio equipment. The twist? The thief was eventually caught and turned out to be a coworker. In Arlington, Virginia, a neighbor stole a computer that had been delivered to my doorstep.

Unfortunately, crime isn't a Brunswick problem. It's a people problem.

That's not meant to excuse it. Crime matters. Safe neighborhoods matter. Communities should absolutely work to reduce it.

But whenever I hear someone talk about crime as if it's unique to Brunswick, I can't help but think back to all the places I've lived before. The reality is that every city has its good areas, bad areas, and stories that make the evening news.

One thing I've learned over the years is that it's easy to judge a place by its crime reports. It's much harder to judge it by the thousands of ordinary interactions that happen every day—the neighbors helping neighbors, the people who stop to chat downtown, the local businesses that remember your name, and the sense of community that rarely makes headlines.

Those things count too.

What I found here was a community made up of good people, flawed people, generous people, difficult people, newcomers, lifelong residents, retirees, artists, fishermen, entrepreneurs, and families trying to make a life for themselves.

Is Brunswick perfect? Of course not.

We don't have every convenience of a major metro area. We don't get every concert tour. We don't have endless nightlife options.

But Savannah is an easy drive north. Jacksonville is an easy drive south. If I want a bigger-city experience, it's available.

The funny thing is that after living here for more than two decades, I don't feel the need to leave nearly as often as I thought I would.

The older I get, the more I've come to appreciate simple things: friendly neighbors, less traffic, being close to the water, and living in a place where people still tend to acknowledge one another.

That's not everyone's definition of a good place to live.

But it's one reason Brunswick became home for me.

— Kevin
Publisher, The Golden Isles Lantern