As a kid, I treasured a conch shell my parents gave my brother and me on one of our annual trips to Oregon. Some summers, we would head inland to Bend, spending mornings and evenings fishing along the riverbanks and playing in the woods with our friends. Other trips took us to the coast near Lincoln City, where we chased the outgoing tide and climbed sea stacks—rocks eroded into little islands for the imagination…and for great fishing.
This is one of my first memories of putting a shell up to my ear and hearing the ocean. What a beautiful thought, to feel like you had, somehow, captured a swath of ocean to carry with you back into your life—whispering to you all the secrets of the sea.
I was reminded of this memory while in Washington State this year. We travelled through the rich microclimates of Yakima and Wenatchee, visiting our friends as apple harvest built in momentum. Over dinner one evening, a friend shared a story about the benefits—but even more so, the risks—of investing too deeply in an echo chamber, where the only voices you hear are those similar to your own.
Her point was powerful: With a new generation entering the produce industry, shifting business models that prioritize price over relationships and data over connection risk eroding a foundational element of who we are under the weight of disconnection. It is the way this industry has built and treasured relationships that gives us our fundamental resilience. Fresh produce is the highest-performing department for many retail operators, and we need to treat suppliers with the same level of priority.
Immediately, I thought of that conch shell. What I had believed to be the ocean was, in truth, just the ambient noise around me, amplified by the shape of the shell and reflected back into my ear. Not quite as magical as the myth I’d held onto.
That conversation sent me down a path of reflection about our industry—how easily we can surround ourselves with too many familiar opinions. Too many ideas recycling the drought of narrow vision rather than reviving innovation. Too many voices echoing sameness instead of disruption, leaving us stuck, heads in the sand, while a world of possibilities passes us by.
This happens to all of us, whether we’re growing a business, shifting strategies, or reaching for the idea that feels too wild to work—or too different from our own to be attainable.
We are living in a time of rapid change. While the conch shell lulls with its soothing rush, the echo chamber has a limited place at the table of innovation.
Safety can comfort us, but it cannot answer every challenge we face.
We must all, at some point, put down the ocean in favor of the horizon.
