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You've heard it before. You've probably even said it before: We live in a disconnected society. We don't know our neighbors, we've become less civil, we'd just as soon be left alone surfing the Web as spend time getting to know others. And for most of us, that's true. I've lived in my house for two years, and I can't tell you the last name of any of my neighbors. My daughter and I can walk to the park, play at the playground, and visit the library without even making eye contact with all the other moms and kids we meet along the way. We've fallen into the trap of keeping to ourselves and not bothering anyone else.
I haven't always lived anonymously. Back in seminary, my husband and I were strong believers in the concept of Christian community. We belonged to a house church, had an open-door policy with the other students in our apartment complex, and rarely ate a meal without a guest or two. Before we were married, Jimmy lived in an intentional community with a professor, his wife, and several other students. We sought to live by the example of Christian community set out in Acts 2:42-47. And we hope to do it again someday. For now, we are in the 'burbs, struggling to find friends.
The reality is, there are few opportunities in contemporary America for people to share a friendly conversation over a late-night cup of hot chocolate with someone outside their family. But a growing trend in the hospitality industry is changing all that. Pamela Lanier, author of The Complete Guide to Bed & Breakfasts, Inns and Guest Houses (Lanier Publishing), notes that in the 17 years she's been writing the annual guide, the number of B&Bs has risen from 1200 to 25,000. According to Lanier, the rise in B&B properties, like most cultural shifts these days, is due to the aging boomer population. Fiftysomethings want lodging that feels different from corporate hotels.
Fortunately for all those travelers, many of their fellow boomers have given in to the yen to leave middle management and forge a life straight out of Newhart. Take Paul Mueller. He and his wife own and operate the Canfield House in Onekama, Michigan. Looking for a way out of corporate climes, the Muellers spent years searching for a B&B they could purchase. "This is a lifestyle where we can do things for ourselves," Mueller says. "It's a personal business, rather than simply a job. Of course, the days are long and physically demanding, but we love bringing people into our home and making them feel welcome."
B&Bs also hold a unique place in the market. They are perhaps one of the few small business opportunities still viable for the person seeking to be his or her own boss. As Mueller says, the appeal of being an independent business owner is a large motivator in joining the B&B business. And unlike privately owned coffee shops and bookstores, B&Bs are not as yet under threat of the capitalistic vultures that tend to swoop in on any successful venue that can be cookie-cuttered onto every street and strip mall in America. In fact, the very nature of the B&B industry—unique settings, distinctive architecture, that "just-like-home-only-better" environment—make them particularly difficult to homogenize into a chain.
Because they hold such a distinctive place in the hospitality market, B&Bs often bring much-needed income to towns much too small to ever attract a larger chain hotel. Even in those towns large enough to support several hotels, B&Bs provide something essential to community life—tourist dollars. In the small resort town where I grew up, there are four or five chain hotels out by the interstate that serve buisiness travelers. Those folks rarely venture beyond the off-ramp, much less drop any cash into local buisinesses. But the three B&Bs near the old downtown area bring in the customers who come to town to spend money. The older, often more affluent B&B guest is the one who eats at the nice restaurants, takes in a show at the playhouse and spends money on pricy antiques.
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