I’m not much of a biblical scholar, but I’m pretty sure the famous line “To every thing there is a season,” comes from Ecclesiastes.
It seems that every column has a season too, and mine has reached its conclusion.
I thought that when my wife retired and we moved back to Kansas City, it would probably bring an end, but thanks to the kindness — and patience — of David Woronoff and Steve Bouser, I was allowed to continue to spout my opinions.
Now Moore County seems too far away, too disconnected from my present life for me to continue to impose my thoughts on it.
Kansas City has taken over — again. My wife and I are both fourth-generation Kansas Citians.
Our great-grandfathers came from Europe — independently, of course, and established businesses here. The businesses are gone, but the connections remain.
I find it remarkable, in a good way, how few longtime residents leave this place. We have had the same friends, with additions, for over 40 years, and many of their children remain or return after sojourns elsewhere. Not ours. So far.
Moore County, at least my perception of it, is very different. It is full of people from somewhere else.
There are corporate types who have lived many places and chose the region to retire. There are doctors who came to practice near a fine facility and enjoy the lifestyle. Folks in the golf business come and go as opportunities present themselves.
This does not diminish the quality of life or people, but I never felt the sense of home that I do here.
I know, the climate is dicey, though this winter was milder than some we experienced in Pinehurst, but as my golf game continues to deteriorate, I’m not so concerned about the weather. Snow is always a problem, but what the heck; I can stay home.
The old saw goes, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” I guess that’s true. I always knew, way down somewhere, that I would end where I started. Right here.
I will always remember the Sandhills fondly; I’ll miss the golf and the Golf Capital Chorus and the many friends we made there. We are doing our best to keep in touch.
The column has had a good run, and I may miss it most of all. Churning out some hopefully coherent thoughts every week has been good mental exercise, and receiving feedback from readers has been interesting and — mostly — fun.
So, sadly I will say adieu. That’s French for something a little less than goodbye, for I will undoubtedly return for a visit or two.
Meanwhile, though this is absolutely not a blanket invitation, if you’re ever in my neighborhood, give me a call.
Just one last reminder: Kansas City is in Missouri.