What a thing it is,
…to be called the best. It sounds like a summit—some dazzling peak where the view is clear and the air is thin. But in real life? It’s messy and honest and deeply human. In fact, most of the people I know who are truly the best at anything? They’re usually sweaty, tired, and trying to keep the wheels on their life while also remembering to call their moms back. They are holy messes, just like the rest of us.
The truth is, “best” isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. It’s about showing up, on that day, at that time, for yourself or for each other.
Sometimes “best” is the bakery that made your wedding cake and now your divorce cupcakes. Sometimes it’s the mechanic who doesn’t charge you for tightening something loose, because he knows it’s been that kind of month. It’s the barista who remembers you take oat milk and looks you in the eye on the morning you’re falling apart. Sometimes it’s someone who just makes space for you to breathe.
We received more than 30,000 votes this year—thirty thousand. That’s a whole lot of people taking time out of their tired days to say, “This person? This place? They made my life better.” In a world as fractured and fast as ours, that feels like a small miracle.
Every single vote was a post-it on the fridge of community life that said: You matter. I see you. Thank you for the fries, the kindness, the perfect balayage, and the way you call me “hon” like we’ve known each other since kindergarten.Because when people show up like that—with love, with specificity, with names and favorites and reasons—what they’re really saying is: I still believe we matter to each other. And in these times? That’s the best news I know.
To the winners: We raise a messy, joyful glass to you. Your hard work, heart, and hustle have not gone unnoticed. You are what makes this place feel like home.
To the nominees: Just being named means someone thought you were the best—and they were right.
To our readers: Thank you. You made this more than a poll. You reminded us that “best” is more than a plaque on the wall. It’s a story. A memory. A place where we belong.
This issue is so much more than a “Best of” list. It’s a reminder that beauty is still alive in our neighborhood, that goodness is still holding the door open, and that if you ever forget how much people care, you can read these pages and remember.
Heather Anne Lee
Editor
