A personal note (DRAFT)
Less than a day after Wit & Grit served its final Breakwich, I stepped into the blue-walled, blue-trimmed dining room and felt the familiar comfort the space has always held. The smell of bacon still lingered in the air. Hannah Arias made coffee for us — a gesture she has repeated thousands of times — and I accepted the cup, knowing it would be the last. We sat together for about two hours. We cried and laughed about life, business, and the state of America. Here is a little bit of that conversation — one I won’t forget.
A leader formed early
To understand Wit & Grit, it helps to understand the person who built it. Hannah Arias grew up in a home where questions of fairness, identity, and belonging were part of everyday conversation. Her father, Dr. Ronald Cohen, spent nearly five decades teaching social psychology and women’s studies at Bennington College. Hannah was literally born on campus, surrounded from the start by the kind of thinking that asks you to look closely at people, pay attention to power, and consider how communities shape us. Her mother worked in early childhood education, grounding those big ideas in everyday care.
Their parental guidance was simple: every person deserves to be seen for who they are.
One childhood moment stayed with her, involving a school worksheet that assumed a doctor must be male. She brought it home, confused, and asked her parents why the assignment didn’t allow for anything else. That simple question — asked by a child trying to make sense of the world — became her first lesson in feminism. It wasn’t the simplified version, but the kind shaped by daily awareness: notice assumptions, challenge them, and make room for people.
Those early lessons so clearly shaped the way she would later run a business and emerge as a community leader.
Building Wit & Grit
When Arias opened Wit & Grit in the winter of 2022 with her founding business partner Erica (spelling?), she did so with a mix of courage, instinct, and a self-deprecating humor that often leads her to downplay her own boldness. She’ll joke about the improbability of launching a restaurant at 45, in the middle of a pandemic, with no formal kitchen experience — but those who know her understand what sits beneath that humility. Under the modest exterior is a powerhouse, and Wit & Grit was never a reckless leap. It was a deliberate act of community building.
Arias brought her background in theater and hospitality to the diner, creating a space where people felt seen the moment they walked in. Staff greeted guests by name. Regulars lingered long after finishing their meals. Teenagers learned their first job skills in her kitchen. The diner became a morning anchor for Randolph — a place where belonging wasn’t just a value, but a daily practice.
Her leadership style was simple: teach, don’t judge. Offer grace. Make room. And always assume people want to be part of something meaningful.
Her mother was there on the final day, sitting quietly in the dining room, watching her daughter close a chapter she had built on her own. Her father, who has passed away, wasn’t in the room, but the values he raised her with were easy to feel. Saying he’d be proud isn’t sentimental; it’s simply the truth.
Women at the helm
During our conversation, Arias spoke candidly about women in business — not as a political statement, but as an observation shaped by her own lived experience. She noted that Randolph’s downtown businesses are now more than 75% women-owned, a statistic that is both remarkable and powerful. To her, that growth feels connected to the same everyday feminism she grew up with — the kind born from noticing people and sharing responsibility.
Her perspective was straightforward: women tend to do well as business owners and leaders right now because, in her words, “there’s no ego in it.” She wasn’t suggesting women are better than men. She wasn’t making a grand claim. She was naming something she sees every day — that many women in Randolph lead with collaboration, steadiness, and a willingness to ask for help. They build teams. They mentor. They show up.
Arias believes this matters for a community. When leadership is grounded in humility and shared responsibility, businesses become more resilient. Staff feel valued. Customers feel welcome. And the town benefits from enterprises that are built to last.
You could see those same values in the way she ran Wit & Grit. It became a place where people grew, felt safe, and found their footing — a small example of what community-minded leadership can look like.
A visible welcome
Arias also made Wit & Grit a home for the LGBTQIA+ community. As an out member of that community, she placed a large rainbow flag in the front window — not to make a point, but simply to let folks know they were welcome. Many thanked her for it. Some said they felt safe there in a way they didn’t feel elsewhere.
That welcome came with challenges. Arias and her family experienced discrimination in Randolph, and her partner endured public harassment that left lasting scars. I carry a real sense of shame that this happened here — in a town I care about, among people I care about. We can’t undo it, but we can name it. And we can do better. Still, Arias stayed, even when her family moved to Maine. She believed that small, visible acts of inclusion — a flag, a trivia night, dancing — could change someone’s day and, over time, change the tenor of a town.
The decision to let go
Closing Wit & Grit wasn’t a failure. It was a clear, loving choice for her family. Arias spoke about the milestones she missed — softball games, birthdays, the small daily moments that passed while she kept the diner going.
She will be living full-time with her family now, in Maine, carrying gratitude for what the diner gave her and what it gave the town. The doors are closed, and the staff has moved on, but the heart of the place remains. With a new owner, there’s a real chance to bring back familiar faces — and to hire new ones who can carry forward the same steady, people-first style of leadership that made Wit & Grit what it was.
What comes next
The business is for sale. And for the right buyer, it represents a rare opportunity: a fully operational, community-rooted diner with a strong brand and a built-in following. Arias is willing to consult, train, and help a successor find their footing. “I’m selling a piece of myself,” she said. She also stated unequivocally that sales have climbed every single year since the diner opened — steady, proven growth that speaks for itself.
For Randolph, the moment calls for reflection. Wit & Grit showed us what hospitality can be when it’s grounded in care rather than only transaction. It showed us how a business can strengthen a town simply by treating people well. And it reminded us that leadership — steady, humble, and human — can shape the character of a community.
Arias talked about the fundamentals she believes every business owner should carry: everyone wants to belong; mutual respect matters; we should want each other to succeed; gratitude and warmth go a long way; and your heart has to be in the work. She also spoke plainly about ego — that you can’t let it run your business. It gets in the way of connection, and connection is the whole point.
She noted, too, that many women in Randolph’s downtown have built strong, welcoming businesses by leading one?on?one, seeing the big picture clearly, and supporting each other. That’s worth celebrating.
Someone will, hopefully, take it from here, and Randolph can continue to grow, learn, and evolve through these historically strange times we’re living in. Let our food heal us and bring us together.
For the record, my breakfast sandwiches will forever be known as a Breakwich, no matter what. Thank you, Hannah, for filling our cups. Wishing you and your family the very best!