​I was raised in New Orleans, where my family practiced two official religions: Jesus… and dinner. And depending on the day, sometimes dinner won.

My Nana had one commandment—not a suggestion, a commandment: “You cannot have a major life event without a plate of food in front of you.” Birth? Food. Death? Food. Breakup? Double food and brownies. Food was more than a meal. It was how we celebrated, grieved, gathered and took care of each other. The dinner table was our holy temple.

My family tree looks like a military org chart: my dad was an Army Drill Sergeant, my grandfather was a WWII pilot, my uncle was a Navy Captain, my stepdad a Navy Master Chief, and my brother a Marine. And because I apparently love chaos, I married a Navy veteran too. My life was an unregulated boot camp, and an appreciation for service was instilled in me from day one. It still drives everything I do.

I also grew up with three younger brothers, which meant I learned hand-to-hand combat before I learned conflict resolution—or long division. It toughened me up and made me a bit of a momma bear for anyone who needs support, protection, or just a break.

Growing up, the rules were simple: You can’t have power without humility. You can’t have justice without fairness. You can’t have faith without belief.

Nana also taught me to cook, which came in handy thirty years ago when I moved to Truckee and married my hero, Brian Smart—a Navy veteran—and with him, a slice of local history. His father, Reg Smart, opened the Smart family coffee shop and bakery in 1947. I didn’t just marry a man; I married a legacy, a landmark, and a lifetime of waking up at 3:45 a.m.

At the end of the day, Wagon Train is more than a business—it’s the Smart family heartbeat. For thirty years, I’ve served, cooked, and catered there. It has taught me that people will absolutely fight you over a bowl of gumbo or bread pudding like their life depends on it.

More importantly, it taught me how to meet people exactly where they are. Some walk in celebrating. Some walk in falling apart. Some just need a quiet corner and a warm cup of coffee to survive the next hour.

That philosophy extends beyond the restaurant. Because of my military family, active-duty service members and veterans eat half off at Wagon Train. We do the same for Truckee High School students who participate in sports or band—young people learning what it means to be part of something bigger than themselves. The Truckee Wolverine Football Card has been part of that effort since its inception, alongside so many great local businesses. Brian coached football from Pop Warner through Truckee High for eighteen years, so supporting these kids is more than tradition—it’s personal.

That’s how we honor service, invest in Truckee’s youth, and help give local families a little breathing room from the cost of living here.

After thirty years of practical business experience, including consulting in culinary and hospitality at Martis Camp, I’ve learned to navigate challenges, pivot when necessary, and keep moving forward. I’ve operated through the 2008 market crash and a global pandemic, times that demanded financial discipline, creativity, and resilience. I’ve learned what works, what it takes to build a business to last. That is the experience I’ll bring to our Rec and Park District.

The same commitment drives my civic work. As an active member of the Truckee Rotary Club and the Town of Truckee’s Advisory Team for Action Priority, I’ve learned that meaningful community work starts with listening and being willing to serve.

I’m also a strong believer in our new library because education is always the way forward.

And at the end of every day, my most demanding patrons are my two yellow labs, who think everything I cook for them is a Michelin masterpiece.

All of this brings me back to my Nana, who taught us to build our resume for the end of our lives, not for our jobs. It’s never about the grand gestures. It’s the small moments—making sure that when someone leaves, they feel more seen, a little more cared for, and a little better fed than when they walked in.

My goal for the Rec and Park District is the same one I bring to the restaurant every day: leave it better than I found it, so the next generation inherits a strong foundation.

I love this community. And I believe, just like my Nana did, that if you want to make a difference, you start by bringing people to the table.