That we might be in all things industrious, conscientious, modest, and true; this is the best we can hope for from ourselves.
Legacy of the Rust
Rust Valley is not a place. It’s a collaboration, an endeavor—it’s a set of ideals.
Little in this world is more contributory to a life well-lived than simple, honest work. Purpose, that truest comfort and pleasure, has quietly given a platform from which the spirits of countless generations before us have risen. When we cross a truss bridge or drive past an aging mill, we see not only the stoicism of its ruddy skin, but also the grandeur of workmanship that withstands the ravages of time. The hands of real people turned those wrenches and hammered those rivets and painted those signs.
Though the people are long gone, their dedication to a better future still remains as a monument to what that future has become. We long to know that particular feeling of pride that only comes from having labored for the sake of others, as those who did so much before us must have felt. We stand in the long shadow of that noble past, desperate to cast our shadows just a little farther. We measure ourselves by the longevity of those bridges and factories, and by the wills of the people who made them.