John B. Marek is a writer, farmer, outdoorsman and recovering economic developer. You can find his books at johnbmarek.com.
Like many kids, I cycled through several hobbies. I was into building plastic models for a while, meticulously gluing together swift fighter planes and hulking battleships. The satisfaction of seeing a completed model, a miniature creation from my own hands, was undeniable. But after a while the thrill of assembly wore off and I craved something more dynamic.
That’s when I dabbled in hobby rocketry. Building a model rocket and launching it into the sky with a burst of flame was an exhilarating experience. The countdown, the liftoff, the parachute descent – it all felt thrillingly real, like a tiny piece of space exploration happening right in my backyard. However, the limitations of model rocket kits and the somewhat unpredictable nature of their flights – I never did find one whose parachute failed to open – left me wanting more control and customization
So I graduated to model trains. Setting up elaborate tracks, complete with bridges, tunnels and miniature buildings, became my new focus. There was something mesmerizing about watching the tiny locomotives chug along their miniature routes, a world I could control and manipulate.
Along the way, I detoured into rock collecting. Every pebble on the playground became a potential treasure, each with its own unique texture, color and story. I meticulously sorted them by type, carefully identifying my “geological finds.” However, the thrill of the hunt faded after just a month or two once I collected a specimen of all my area’s very limited rock types.
By far, the shortest-lived of my pastimes, however, was stamp collecting: My philatelist period lasted precisely 40 minutes, the time it took to drive home from the Woolco discount store in Oregon, Ohio.
To be fair, my interest in stamps was never incredibly intense. The initial draw was the low cost of entry. Woolco offered a bag of 200 assorted stamps – tiny squares of history and culture from all over the world – for a dollar. That was a real bargain compared to plastic models, which were $4 or $5 in those days. I opened the bag as soon as I reached our bright red Chevy Caprice in the parking lot. As we rode through the Ohio countryside, I meticulously sorted them by country, marveling at the exotic imagery and foreign languages.
By the time we reached the Port Clinton exit, I had them organized into a dozen piles on the backseat. And that was the extent of it. Finding valuable or interesting stamps required dedication, knowledge and available funds I did not have. The lack of hands-on creativity also didn’t resonate with me. So the little piles of stamps were relegated to a dusty desk drawer, a fleeting memory of a hobby that never quite took root.
Looking back, my childhood dabblings all played a role in shaping my interests. My childhood exploration of different hobbies was like a dress rehearsal for my future career. As I tried on various interests, from building models to collecting stamps, I was testing the waters of what sparked my curiosity and kept me engaged. Though seemingly carefree, this process honed my ability to identify what brings me a sense of accomplishment and enjoyment.
Those qualities would eventually prove crucial as I navigated the world of work, helping me gravitate toward a job that offered both a paycheck and a chance to delve into something meaningful and fulfilling. It would be an oversimplification to suggest that the towns I built for my train to pass through were a precursor to my work in economic development or that my short-lived stint examining and categorizing stamps soured me on “administrative” jobs like bookkeeping. Still, the experiences instilled in me a vital balance. The trains fostered creativity and problem-solving, while the stamps demanded meticulous organization. This early dance between imagination and structure would become the foundation for my approach to economic development: Crafting solutions that are both innovative and practical, fostering growth without sacrificing efficiency.