Running a farm is hard enough, but rapid city growth makes it even tougher. More than a decade ago, the late Verl Cook faced a series of staggering hurdles that threatened to wipe out his family’s livelihood.

First, the city decided to treat the Cook’s greenhouse — the most profitable part of the farm — like a big-box retail store. They demanded the family build a paved parking lot, a project that would cost $200,000.

Hall and Scheig found their land last June and broke ground just two months later, transforming what was essentially a blank canvas into a diversified market garden. This year marks their first full growing season, and they’re launching it with a community supported agriculture program, or CSA. CSAs allow people to support local growers by purchasing a season’s worth of produce upfront, giving farmers the financial stability they need during the most expensive part of the year.

A generation ago, homeownership was not reserved for the affluent. Working-class families bought modest homes on modest incomes. They built equity, raised families, and entered retirement with a valuable asset largely paid for.

Today, many Utah families find themselves in a different position. They may earn too much to qualify for housing assistance but too little to purchase a home. They rent apartments that consume an increasing share of their income while saving for a down payment becomes increasingly difficult.

A recent KUER article critically examines The Other Side Academy (TOSA), focusing primarily on former participants who describe the program negatively and questioning the philosophy behind therapeutic communities. Every institution should be subject to scrutiny, and TOSA is no exception. But after reading the article, I was left asking a different question: Why is this level of scrutiny almost never applied to the homelessness industry itself?