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Shiny Abstract Texture

By Lorri Matthewson, Founder, Matthewson & Co.

 

I love the peace of small‑town living. I love the way generations of the same families shape a place, and how newcomers add new energy and ideas. I love the civic pride, the beauty of our prairie communities, and the way people show up for each other.

 

And I especially love the “get‑after‑it” spirit that builds rinks, pools, firehalls, and community spaces through sheer determination and volunteer power. Those fundraisers and volunteer hours create a quality of life that rivals anywhere in the country. They are the heartbeat of rural life.

 

But alongside that strength sits a blind spot—one that shows up when communities take on large capital projects without fully understanding what it will cost to operate, maintain, and eventually replace them.

 

Grants help build things. Volunteers help build things. But neither of those pay the bills for the next 40 years. And too often, those long‑term costs aren’t calculated or shared with the public before decisions are made. Uninformed consent is not consent. If a project can’t withstand public scrutiny, it’s not ready.

 

This isn’t about saying don’t build things. It’s about building the right things, for the right reasons, with eyes wide open.

 

1. Do You Need It?

Needing space for equipment doesn’t automatically mean a full‑size, fully loaded firehall. Sometimes it means a pole shed. The question is not “What would be nice?” but “What solves the problem responsibly?”

 

2. Will We Use It?

If your current facility is underused and your census shows population decline, a new building won’t reverse that trend. Usage doesn’t magically increase because a building is newer.

If you can’t reasonably expect the facility to sustain itself through users, then you must calculate what it will cost—and how the municipality will cover that cost. That’s basic asset management.

 

3. Can the Existing Asset Be Repaired?

There is a world of difference between a $1‑million repair and a $10‑million rebuild.

At 5% interest, a $10‑million project costs $500,000 a year in interest alone—before paying down a single dollar of principal. If 500 kids use the facility, that’s $1,000 per child per year just to service the debt.

 

Nobody would choose that if they were paying out of their own pocket. Municipal math shouldn’t be any different.

 

Even if you have 100% of the capital cost covered, operations and maintenance will cost two to three times the build cost over the asset’s life. A $10‑million facility will cost roughly $20‑million to operate and maintain over 40 years—about $500,000 per year. In a community with fewer than 100 kids, that matters.

 

4. Do You Have a Plan for Operations and Maintenance?

Once the ribbon is cut, the bills begin.

 

Municipalities must balance their budgets. Every new cost must come from somewhere:

• higher taxes,

• higher user fees, or

• reduced service elsewhere.

 

Reserves help, but they don’t last forever. A long‑term plan is not optional.

 

Why “Build It and They Will Come” Is Not a Strategy

 

It’s a great movie line. It is a terrible municipal plan.

 

It assumes demand will appear simply because the facility exists. In rural communities, that assumption almost always collapses under the weight of:

• small and aging populations,

• long‑term operating costs,

• limited tax capacity, and

• the reality that municipalities cannot create demand.

 

Infrastructure does not create population growth. Municipalities cannot force business investment or market interest.

 

And when “they” don’t come, current residents carry the full burden through higher taxes or reduced services.

 

Across the Prairies, we see the results:

• empty industrial parks,

• oversized water plants,

• underused recreation facilities,

• subdivisions with no buyers.

 

These become long‑term liabilities, not assets.

 

The Fundamentals Matter

 

Before building anything, responsible municipalities start with:

• demonstrated need,

• feasibility studies,

• realistic usage projections,

• lifecycle cost analysis,

• phased development, and

• commitments from partners or users.

 

If someone is promising growth, ask for letters of intent, cost‑sharing, or pre‑sales before a shovel hits the ground.

 

So, build it and they will come…but what if they don’t?

 

Communities do not grow because we build a new facility. The grow when there are strong fundamentals. They grow where the infrastructure is solid, where the governance is solid, and where there are jobs, and housing. Without the fundamentals in place, communities can, and do build beautiful, underused facilities.

 

 

Matthewson & Co. supports communities with practical, plain‑language asset management services that help councils plan, prioritize, and invest wisely for the long term.

Visit Our Services | Matthewson & Co. for more information.


Our next Asset Management webinar will take place on Monday March 23rd. To register visit Asset Management 101 Tickets, Monday, Mar 23 from 3 pm to 4:30 pm CDT | Eventbrite

 
 
 

By Lorri Matthewson

 

“Being on council is tough enough — nobody will agree to take training on top of it.”

That is not true. I call BS.

 

No responsible person would assume they know how to govern a municipality without training on legislation, governance, regulations, or their roles and responsibilities. We provide training regularly to councils that are serious about development and sustainability. Most tell us it helps them a great deal. Only the ones threatened by knowing the rules resist them. The job is simply too big for anyone to “wing it.” The cost is too great.

 

“I’ve been doing this for 20 years; I don’t need nobody telling ME how to do my job!!”

 

If you are meddling in HR, following staff around, or deciding which specific employee gets a raise at the council table, you absolutely do need someone to tell you how to do your job — before you get sued and cost the community a butt‑load of money. Councillors wandering into operations pose the biggest threat to their community. We get calls every week from administrators on the verge of quitting because councillors threaten their jobs, evaluate them based on personal operational preferences, and otherwise refuse to stay in their lane.

 

If you are making decisions in private chat groups, if you don’t have any policies (or don’t follow the ones you have), or you allow your CAO to work without a contract or job description, you do need to learn about your roles and responsibilities.

 

If you allow people in your community to abuse your administrator, and you fail to make any decisions that matter while you micromanage operations, you do need training. You do.

 

If you know the rules and refuse to follow them, you are not a municipal leader. You might have great and wonderful skills, but without the rules, you are not governing. You are pushing your own agenda — and only in hindsight will we know whether it did the community any good.

 

If you are sitting around the table not knowing what to do when you’re not dabbling in operations, you do need training and support.

 

Training is fundamentally about protecting the municipality from avoidable harm. Training is not for “problem” councils. Training is for councils that care about their communities and want to do the best possible job. Training is for leaders who care more about the long-term sustainability of their communities than they do about a small group of people who would lovingly bankrupt a municipality to get the building or program they think is most important, in the complete absence of actual numbers on which to base a decision.

 

Our small‑population municipalities are required to operate with conflict‑of‑interest rules, meeting procedures, financial controls, procurement, records management, and the duty to act as a government. None of this is intuitive, and the rules are not guidelines.

 

Without training:

· Councils drift into personality-based decision-making, where whoever speaks loudest sets direction.

· Administrators are forced into the role of correcting misunderstandings and putting out fires caused by councillors operating outside their lanes.

· Administrators are pushed into overreach when a council struggles to decide.

· Councils chase issues reactively; priorities shift meeting to meeting, and nothing gets done. Long-term planning collapses.

· Councils wander into areas where they have no expertise and make decisions that land them in court. 

· Councillors make decisions that benefit only their own divisions or personal agendas.

· Municipalities miss important opportunities because they fail to act “at the speed of business.”

 

Training is not for problem councils; it is the opposite. Training is for responsible municipalities that understand that governance is more important than their operational preferences. Making council training part of the job — the same way it is for administrators, teachers, nurses, and every other public-facing role — protects your community’s ability to survive in the long term. Training ensures that every councillor, new or experienced, has the tools to make decisions confidently, legally, and consistently.

 

And it is an important job, especially now.

 

Our small‑population communities are essential to our provincial economies. We provide the services that keep the province functioning. We maintain the roads, water systems, waste management, recreation facilities, and housing that support agriculture, resource extraction, tourism, and manufacturing. These sectors rely on local infrastructure to move goods, attract workers, and keep operations stable.

 

This isn’t a little job. Strong governance is how we protect the economic value small populations generate. Our sustainability depends on the quality of our governance. Real leaders put the work ahead of their opinions, embrace training, and follow the process. Anyone unwilling to do that isn’t protecting the community — they’re putting it at risk.

 

I said what I said.



Matthewson & Co. offers flexible, high‑impact council training delivered both in person and online, giving your team practical tools and confidence to lead effectively. Visit Our Services | Matthewson & Co. for more information.


Our next Council Training webinar will take place on Wednesday April 8th. To register visit Council Basics for New, Returning and Future Councillors (2 Part Series) Tickets, Wednesday, Apr 8 from 11 am to 4:30 pm CDT | Eventbrite

 
 
 

By Lorri Matthewson


There is a moment that happens—usually somewhere between being stuck behind traffic during a 40-minute commute, and a line up for parking, when people start to wonder if life is supposed to feel like this, or if there could be a calmer, more authentic way to live. At least, that is what I am told. I wouldn’t know. I have never lived in the city where I had to commute to work without a bus.


 I love to visit the city, love a concert, or a show, and the great food, but after a few days I want to be back at my desk, in my office, in my house, with my big snorty dog, our ancient cat, and my mister.


In my giant 125-year-old house, where I still work 12 hour days, intersected with breaks for cooking, cleaning and making art, life is peaceful. My life is only possible because I live in an evolving community, a little town in southwest Manitoba. Let me explain.


I did try city living early on, attracted by all the things there was to do, only to find I didn’t have the time or money, or head space to “do” much of any of them. My world was getting up, getting ready, going to work, coming home, making  food, cleaning up…(sometimes) going to bed. Weekends, or days off were catching up because during the workday, I couldn’t get the errands done, because I was either at work, on my way to work, or on my way home. Once my first daughter was born, time got even tighter.   


And for a long time, despite the evidence around me, I believed that living in a small town meant I wasn’t doing it right. I used to believe that moving to the city was an evolutionary step, a rite of passage. Even when I moved back, due to a divorce, and a deep need for family and friend support, it was supposed to be temporary—a year, or two at most.


But, living in a small town as an adult is a lot different than living in a small town as an 18-year-old, particularly an 18-year-old like me, born with gypsy feet. Here is what I learned when I moved back…


1. You get your time back—and your life back with it.

As a single mom, I found moving back to a little town brought with it a comfort and support that made it possible for me to work and support my wee family. The days were very full, and impossible without the support of family and friends. I had to commute to the next town for work, but the parking was free, and the childcare was cheap. It wasn’t perfect, but it was possible. I got a big old house, and a big old yard. And peace. I got peace. Had I stayed in the city, my daughter would have been raised by strangers, my ability to earn insufficient to support anything but the most basic lifestyle, and my world shrunk to subsistence living, with reliance on foodbanks, and subsidized apartments. I didn’t want to do that. So, I moved back to a little town.


Life went on, and now I find myself in a different big old house in a different province, in a different town! Same comfort though!


Today most days, my commute is down the stairs from the bedroom to the kitchen to start the coffee, tend to the pets, and write in my journal, and then walk 20 feet to my office. Even if I go to my office downtown, (Jenn and Anna run the offices) it is a 10-minute walk, or a 3-minute drive. And that schedule leaves an extra hour and a half every day.


2. You can find housing that doesn’t break you.  

Small towns offer space. Space to breathe, space to grow, space to live. Just this week, I found 3 liveable, fixer uppers with big space yards in small towns near us, that start at $65,000.00. No kidding.


No way we could afford a house and yard the size of what we enjoy in our small town for what we paid.  We could perhaps afford a condo with half the square footage. Being able to wear my housecoat out on the veranda in the morning and listening to the birds 6 months out of the year, brings about that peaceful easy feeling the Eagles used to sing about. You can have a yard, a garden, a workshop, or in our case, a 2200 square foot home with more outside living space than in. It’s not about cheaper; it is about the possible amenities you can add to your day-to-day living.


3. Community is a way of life.

And before you come at me with all the negatives, here is a tip…if you don’t put your private life out on the socials, engage in drama, and are generally a decent human, most people are decent back, no matter the size of the town. People do notice when you show up, and they notice when you don’t. You are not anonymous; you are part of something.  There are neighbors who help without being asked. Local businesses learn about you, there are events to attend, if not in ‘your’ town, in one over, there is as much to do as you want to do. Over time there is a sense of belonging. I know that isn’t the case for some and I know this kind of close isn’t for everyone. But we find we can be alone as much as we like, or social as much as we like. Community is just built into the rhythm of the place.


4. Opportunity is everywhere—if you want it.

Small towns are full of gaps waiting to be filled. There are opportunities to:

  • Start a business

  • Volunteer

  • Solve a problem


If you want to make a difference you can step in and see the impact of your work almost immediately.


5. A slower pace is possible, but it can also be as busy as you want it to be

This is where people really get it wrong. Living deliberately means you can fill your days as full as you like. We have the frantic people here too, who hit the ground running and tip over at midnight to start again at 4:30 am. But if you choose to, you can see, as I did when I moved back to small towns, that I was able to gain things back into my life that are important to me. Things like quiet mornings, stars I can see, and a sense of calm are possible, because out here, I can hear myself think.


Matthewson & Co. is working in all three prairie provinces now, I’m starting a bricks and mortar business with my former staff turned business partner, Anna, that will open soon. I am taking and training webinars, and work as hard as anyone I know, but living in a small town allows the mind space I need to keep all the balls in the air. A slower pace is not less. It just allows space for more of what matters.


Small town living isn’t for everyone, but it could be exactly right for you, if you are craving more time, more space, more connection, and more balance, the right town could be the perfect choice.


True, all small towns are not all created equal. Some do fit the stereotype. Some are dying, and nothing we can do will save them. Some wear their toxic traits on social media pages full of entitlement and uglies aimed at anything they are personally offended by, but those are not the majority. There are many populations that would welcome you with open arms.

Small towns aren’t relics of the past; they are the next chapter for those who want a full, grounded and connected life. Small towns offer all of this—not as a not to nostalgia, but as a modern, intentional choice. People are increasingly drawn to places where they can build a life that feels whole. They want to know their neighbors, contribute to something meaningful, and live in a way that aligns with their personal worldview. That life is still possible, I, and others like me live it every day.


These communities are full of opportunity, set for new businesses, offer a chance to lead, and provide room for innovation. Small town living isn’t a step back. For some of us, living in a small town is a step toward a fuller, richer way of life.   

 
 
 
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