I recently took a road trip to my native homeland. My
family has never left the area, and I’d been long out of touch. Zurich and the
surrounding area shaped my life—both good and bad. I grew up there learning a
work ethic seemingly forgotten in our current times. Along the way, I also rode those first critical waves of life experiences, both wonderful and horrible, that would influence the remainder of
my life.
Upon arrival, I drove my fiancé through town (my
parents live south of Zurich, in the country). I was shocked at the state of my
childhood stomping grounds. I didn’t even snap photos—I didn’t and don’t want
to remember it like this. The accompanying photo of Saindon’s corner store (beautiful
memories), bank (the bank was gone even as a kid), poolhall (ditto), and Post
Office (we didn’t have an address growing up—only a PO box) was kiped off the
internet. Currently, with a population of around 85 people, the town seems to
be falling in on itself. Like its pride has been stripped away by the heat and
ever-present winds of the plains.
Not to say Zurich was ever booming in my time. But
there were always kids out playing, and now there are none. People kept their
properties up, and now very few do. What holds it together and keeps the town
alive are its exceptional people—rogues and prudent citizens alike.
I was able to experience this with the two most important
people in my life: my nine-year-old son and fiancé, both city dwellers since
birth. My little cowboy loved it—driving four-wheelers, riding lawn mowers, and
discovering animals in their natural habitat. And I believe my girl, despite
her upbringing (which was rough), is a country girl at heart. Both of them
thrived. Both loved the overwhelming freedom of the rolling plains and the
quiet that permeates and calms.
While the state of my old hometown is hard to take,
the people draw me back and will continue to do so. I miss and love Zurich and
Kansas.
I love what being raised rural gave me.
