The author, John Marek, is a writer and CEO of the Anson Economic Development Partnership.
It’s a long way to Tipperary.
You’ve probably heard that phrase; maybe you’re even singing the tune in your head right this minute. But what does it mean, and where the heck is Tipperary anyway?
Tipperary is a county in the south of Ireland. The song featuring the line became a popular marching tune for soldiers during WWI, capturing the emotions of missing their homes and loved ones. Although I am not comparing my exploits in business and economic development to the heroic trials of the armed forces, those lyrics are still relatable. For much of my professional life, it’s been a LONG way to [insert name of town where home is located].
Over my nearly 40-year career, I have almost always had ridiculously long commutes to my job. My first commute, from my apartment in Perrysburg to Best Products in northwest Toledo, wasn’t too bad, 20 minutes on a good day, but then we moved to the “little house on the highway” in Bowling Green and my drive time ballooned to 30 minutes. While High Quality Plastics in Findlay was a mere 40 minutes away, I was only in the office for a day or two each week. The bulk of my time was spent in places like Livonia, Mich. (90 minutes), Dayton, Ohio (two hours), and Kokomo, Ind. (three hours).
When I moved to North Carolina in 1995, I hoped to reverse that trend and find something close to home. No such luck. Although my first commute to my short-lived job with Visco was just 25 minutes, drive times soon escalated to 40 minutes (CADD Concepts) and 45 minutes (RS Byrnes).
I’m not necessarily complaining; it was my choice to take those positions, after all, but that’s a LOT of windshield time over 40 years. Back of a napkin estimate, 18,000 hours! It would have been nice to have a job where I could run home for lunch, let the dogs out, water the garden and maybe even get in a catnap.
For the first few years of my time with Anson Economic Development Corporation, I had an apartment in Wadesboro, just a few blocks from the office. While I still drove the hour and 15 minutes back to Huntersville every weekend, walking to work almost every morning was nice. Then Covid hit, I gave up the apartment and switched to a hybrid schedule where I make that hour-plus drive two or three times each week.
Yeah, it’s a long way to Tipperary.
Later this week, I will hand the reins of AnsonEDC over to a new executive director and, at the end of September, step away from economic development, leaving those excessive commutes behind. While that may appear an abrupt change to some, I have been working up to it for several years. It is not a coincidence that I published five books in the past seven years, launched an ambitious faith-based community garden in 2020 or acquired land near Stone Mountain State Park last year. While some might use the dreaded r-word to describe what I am doing, I see it as more of an upgrade to “John 3.0.”
My eighth book, “Falling Up The Hill,” will be published the week before I leave Anson County and economic development behind. While I have been busy writing and publishing over the past few years, it has been more of a hobby than a job. Beginning Oct. 1, I’m going to take it more seriously, launching a more robust website (my URL currently directs to my author page on Amazon), doing promotional events at independent booksellers throughout the Carolinas and Virginia, and submitting articles for publication on a regular basis to outdoor and sustainable living magazines. I have no illusions that I will make much money at this; a few thousand dollars per year is likely the ceiling, but that’s fine.
My previous book, “Getting Back To The Garden,” chronicled my occasionally frustrating experiences with sustainable living and my efforts to launch a faith-based community garden supporting our local soup kitchen in Huntersville. New Beginnings Moravian Garden is now wrapping up our fourth successful summer growing season. Over those years, we have expanded from a handful of raised beds to what is quickly becoming a small farm providing hundreds of pounds of fresh produce for the food insecure of north Mecklenburg. As the volunteer farm manager, I have typically committed eight-10 hours per week during the growing season, but now I can devote more time to a more consistent schedule, which significantly enhances what we can and will do regarding planting and harvesting.
One of the first hikes my wife Janet and I took after moving to North Carolina in 1995 was the Stone Mountain Loop. For a couple of flatlanders from the Midwest, it was a pretty strenuous trek, but we discovered the joys of mountain life and began dreaming of having an off-grid mountain retreat of our own. We took the first steps toward making that a reality last September, buying a six-acre parcel a few miles outside the park. It’s a work in progress, but one day, a few years down the road, I hope to have a quaint little mountain cabin to use as a base for my hiking and fly-fishing adventures. I have joined Trout Unlimited and Friends of Stone Mountain State Park and want to serve as a park volunteer and trail guide. Not coincidentally, I am working on a series of mystery novels featuring a park ranger in a fictitious North Carolina state park that closely resembles, you guessed it, Stone Mountain!
I want to express my thanks to all those who have read and supported my Field Notes columns over these past four years. We’ve gone through a lot together, from Covid and business closings to Miami Vice tributes and Naugahyde bowling. It’s been a blast for me, and I hope for you, as well.
The last Field Notes column will be published the week of Sept. 25 but will be replaced soon after with a new concept that I think you will enjoy as much, if not more. More on that in the coming weeks.