Henderson County, NC: Look to the West
History repeats itself because "wise leaders" fail to learn the lessons of the past.
I’ve seen this picture show before.
A beautiful location. A lovely climate. Modest development and appropriate infrastructure. Open spaces between cities. Room for kids to play and people to enjoy nature. Enough clean water to drink. Reasonable home prices, low taxes, and minimal crime. Safety, security, and order. A bright future.
Orange County, California, circa 1960/1970.
I have seen the future
For much of America’s history, the cry of expansion—Go West, young man—was a siren song calling bold souls to build a Nation. From coast to coast and the mountains to the sea, this land was made for you and me!
And, so, “we” came.
ONWARD!
From the Corp of Discovery to the Gold Rush, to the post-World War II baby boom and beyond, “we” came farther and faster, deeper and wider, staking claims, putting down roots, and building dreams. Until every place was explored and the land was subdued.
But it didn’t stop there.
Trees came down as high-rises went up. Houses, apartments, and commercial buildings buried fields and blanketed hillsides. The water table dropped as year by year precious runoff flowed down endless sheets of concrete to the sea—in the years when it rained.
With every place filled and people packed tight, housing prices skyrocketed, and property taxes followed suit. Fresh water became scarce, and crime plentiful. Strangers averted their gaze. Neighbors eyed one another cooly.
And thus the sun set on California Dreamin. As Joni Mitchell prophesied, we didn’t know what we had till it was gone.
The signs of the times
The handwriting was on the wall long before we decided to exit California, our home of over six decades. The once Golden (and proudly conservative) State took a hard Left after the Tet Offensive. Responsibility was “out.” Free love was “in.” Welfare and social programs sprouted like weeds.
After all, programs are free. Right?
And most people were too busy treading water to contemplate the impact of wall-to-wall governmental largesse. Too engaged in personal survival as prices rose faster than wages, and diplomas did not deliver on their long-standing promise of future prosperity.
From our lovely home in the city of Orange, we lamented an unassailable Leftist super majority in the state legislature in Sacramento. Even if political sentiment reversed course today, it would take a generation before any attempt at moderation could blossom. We sensed that, eventually, the State might leverage property taxes to separate us from our home.
“You’ll own nothing and be happy.”
That handwriting on the wall was a word to the wise: “Get out while you can!”
Go East, Old Man
Vicki and I visited Hendersonville, North Carolina, several times during the early 2000s. We also explored the Tar Heel state’s open expanses east of Greenville, into Abermarle Sound, the Neuse River, and along the intercoastal waterway sheltered by the Outer Banks. We crisscrossed the promised land from Bath to Oriental, Edenton to New Bern, Charlotte to the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the spaces in between.
Immediately, we were struck by how green everything was. Green means water, and we were not used to the novel concept of reliable and plentiful annual rainfall. We took note.
As the years rolled by and we entered the glide path to “refocusing” (“retiring”), my wife and I realized that the opportunities in the East eclipsed the advantages of remaining in the West.
It was a sobering revelation.
So, on June 19, 2020, having sold or shipped everything, we set off on a cross-country drive with our cat, Sweetie, to our future home state of North Carolina.
Counting the cost
We left behind friends, family, church, a lovely home, a beautiful city, a friendly neighborhood, and the consistently pleasant, if somewhat dry, Southern California weather.
And the Pacific Ocean (an uncompensible loss).
Leaving her birthplace hurt my wife more than it did me. She had more friends, closer connections, and a local family heritage dear to her. Fully absorbed in problem-solving mode, I rushed our transition before Vicki could emotionally prepare for such a change. But I, too, endured an adjustment period following a significant regional shakeup.
As we surveyed our new surroundings, we wondered: Where was our treasured In-N-Out Burger? And what about our loveable, if mediocre, Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim? And we missed hearing the nightly fireworks show at Disneyland and the teaching at the Thursday Night Bible Study Fellowship in Santa Ana.
This checklist of losses was long.
We had hope for our future in the East but shed some tears over what we left in the West.
Where the heart is
When we tell North Carolinians—particularly those in Henderson County—we’re glad to be here, we hope they understand that the cost of coming here was significant. We uprooted our lives at an age when doing so is a weighty and risky matter. We just didn’t think we could stay in California and thrive.
So we staked our future under a Carolina-blue sky alongside rolling hills and apple orchards in a lovely place. God blessed our coming, and friendly people welcomed us. We are amazed by the forests, wildlife, and rural charm of Henderson County. Like everyone else, we want that charm to last a thousand years.
With that in mind, I’m sharing a message with incumbent and incoming elected officials who will preside over the future development of Henderson County:
2024 Henderson County Board of Commissioners—
Congratulations to incumbent and newly elected Board members. Yours is an awesome task with monumental challenges and untold opportunities.
My wife and I share with you our long experences in another state which, in times past, held in tension the need for Progress and the desire for Legacy. That state is California, and, ultimately, Progress won out.
Upon arriving in Hendersonville in Summer 2020, our eyes quickly discerned that, alonside Beauty, there lurked another beast named Ambition. Some might prefer that predator’s other title, Progress. By any name, we saw what we saw.
There were rolling hills and open fields along countrified routes and rural roads. Houses sat on multiple acres with cows and donkeys in nearby pastures. Apple farmers invited passers-by to come pick their fruit. But, as we beheld the landscape it was clear that there was room to grow, and we could envision one potential future.
Because we’d seen that future manifested in Southern California.
Seemingly unrestrained commercial and residential development of every kind. Until every space between towns and cities was filled with concrete and asphalt. Homes were rolled out upon the landscape like an endless carpet, stretching into the fire-prone foothills in a great basin of nearly 40 million people—without a sufficient natural water source for so many souls.
In a place where kids once played outside unattended till dusk, where schoolyards were open fields of dreams to young ballplayers, where crime was known but not familiar to most. In that place “wise leaders” sought to make Progress for the good of all. Mostly developers and real estate concerns.
And, boy, did they make their Progress. So much so that we concluded we could no longer live with it. Angry? We can tell you about the special kind of anger people have reserved for Leaders who carve-out a vision that benefits the few at the expense of the many.
We left behind a beautiful 1950s-era bungalow in a precious and influential college town smack dab in the center of Orange—a city steeped in history. It’s one of few Southern California towns with a vintage roundabout and an authentic, functioning Old Towne.1 Families still stroll the sidewalks on afternoons and evenings, and fill the small park in the roundabout after church on Sundays.
Orange is one of the last places in thousands of square-miles of concrete, asphalt, billboards, and towers where a brief glimpse of Yesterday can be had in the new millenium. Sadly, all the childhood memories of “our special places” are gone. The football field behind the Baptist Church is now condos. The schoolyard is chained shut. Kids don’t play outside at all, let alone till dusk.
Beauty or Ambition? Progress or Legacy?
Until your respective terms are up, you get to participate in the scrum that determines how much of each desired attribute is appropriate for Henderson County. And, you get to do it on our behalf. I freely admit that I would not want to be in your shoes. Because your personal legacies hang in the balance. You will be remembered for the sides you take, and the stands you make, in what will be an epic battle for the soul of Henderson County.
At the moment, there is room for compromise. And said compromise should always show deference toward conservation and preservation. A cautious approach now will make room for a more prudent option in the future. On the flip side, haste today will fill tomorrow with long-lasting regrets.
Foresight trumps Hindsight and is far less expensive, all day long.
Sadly, California has made her bed and compelled all to lie in it. All y’all still have time to decide how the bed should be made in Henderson County.
We hope and pray that the mess in the West begets wisdom in the East. Because it’s true: You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.
Respectfully,
R. Kays
Editor’s Note: On Saturday, March 2, my wife and I took advantage of early voting in North Carolina. I emailed this edition of RGK Publishing to current board members and candidates for the Henderson County Board of Commissioners.
If you saw the Tom Hanks film, “That thing you do,” then you have seen Orange, CA. The city’s iconic mid-century charm was perfect for its recasting as 1960s Erie, PA, in rock music’s golden era of “One Hit Wonders.” During filming, I recall driving to work by the RV city housing cast, crew, extras, and all manner of equipment. I did not meet Hanks or co-star, Liv Tyler, but it was a kick seeing our home town on the Big Screen.
I love 'That Thing You Do' for capturing the charm of that era. And I remember driving through Iowa from the East in 2000 and seeing downtowns like a time machine had put me back in the 1950s. I ended up moving to a small town in the mountains. Hope your home retains its charm for you.