What Andy’s Cow Patty Palace Taught Me about Community and Resilience.
Throughout my childhood and for 20 years, my dad ran a small, beloved mom-and-pop diner called Andy’s Cow Patty Palace. Like most small business owners, my dad wore every hat imaginable—head chef, shopper, bookkeeper, dishwasher, and everything in between. The diner was a family affair. I started waiting tables at the age of 10 while my younger sisters bused tables and washed dishes.
But Andy’s was much more than a diner. It was a community hub. Locals started their mornings there with coffee and conversation, caught up on town gossip, bartered for goods, and even played poker (where the loser had to drive my sisters and me to school!). Growing up in that environment, I came to understand how central small businesses are to the fabric of a community. When my dad was sick or when snowstorms or power outages hit, the diner couldn’t open. That didn’t just mean no income for the day; it left a gap in the community. Regulars missed their routine. Conversations and connections were put on pause. Everyone who relied on Andy felt the ripple effect—not just us, but the butcher who provided our meat, our dairy supplier, and the list goes on.
Fast forward to last June, I wrote about my community of the past five years-Northwest Arkansas, where seven tornadoes struck the region in one evening. Many small businesses are still struggling to recover, and some may never reopen. Across from my local office is a small diner reminiscent of Andy’s—The Waffle Hut. The tornadoes destroyed its roof and leveled the building behind it. It’s been eight months since their doors last opened. Eight months with no revenue. Can you imagine?
As I write, my home in Pasadena, CA, where I launched The Resiliency Initiative, is starting the slow recovery process from the most devastating fires the community has ever suffered. I watched in helpless horror as the Eaton Fire came within five blocks of where I used to live. Entire neighborhoods—homes, businesses, parks, schools—seemed to vanish. The recovery process is just beginning, but it will take years to rebuild what was lost.
When I think back to my dad’s diner, I realize how fortunate we were to have avoided crises like these. But I often wonder, What if? What if Andy’s had been forced to close its doors for months—or forever? What would that have meant for our family? Could we have survived without income for six months? A year? What would it have meant for the community that relied on Andy’s and for the network of people who relied on us?
These are the practical and financial realities of a disaster, but the emotional toll is just as devastating. Losing your business—your livelihood—strikes at the core of who you are. Imagine losing everything: your home, your job, your kids’ school, your sense of security. It’s hard not to feel consumed by hopelessness.
These reflections are why I started The Resiliency Initiative: to help families, businesses, and communities be better prepared for the unexpected. Disasters can strike anyone at any time, and the path to recovery is often long and overwhelming. But preparation—however small—can ease the burden when that time comes.
I encourage you to take a moment to think about how a disaster could impact your livelihood and those who depend on it. Preparation can feel daunting, but it doesn’t have to be. To help, TRI has developed a business resiliency plan that we’re currently offering for free. It’s a resource to help you start building your preparedness today because every step taken now can make a meaningful difference when it matters most.
