Coming Home to Door County

In March, I was travelling for three of the month’s four workweeks. Part of that time was spent in Florida visiting with a few of Door County’s generous donors. For the remainder of my time away I was in Hawaii, visiting my father for his 89th birthday.

So there I was, spending March in two of the most coveted winter zip codes in the United States. Yet as each day passed, I found myself longing more and more to return home to Door County. What is it about this place that keeps us here or brings us back each year? I’m sure the answer to that question is different for each of us, but on my final plane ride home, I tried to define what makes Door County special to me.

I love that in Door County, we don’t feel the need to build walls.

Exploring Florida for a bit, it was amazing to see how separate the “haves” are from the “have nots.” Entire subdivisions have risen up surrounded by giant cement walls and guarded gates to keep out those who aren’t members of the club.

There’s a portion of Interstate 41 in South Florida where on one side of the road you find a Mercedes dealership next to a Jaguar dealer and a BMW showroom. On the opposite side are a series of pawn shops and second hand stores. The highway may have replaced the railroad, but clearly in Florida, each economic group still has its own side of the tracks.

Please don’t think I’m sitting in judgment on those who choose to live in gated communities – perhaps crime is so rampant there that it’s the only way to truly be safe. I raise the issue simply as a reminder of just how lucky we are that Door County is a place where we don’t feel the need to build cement walls or hire guards to separate us from each other. We can all live here together.

I love that in Door County, despite the dramatic differences in our respective household wealth, we still have a strong sense of community.

For those of us who live here all year, our kids attend the same schools. As a result, when I sit on the bleachers at a basketball game, the guy on my right might own a giant house on the water, and the one on my left may rent a tiny apartment next to the highway. Yet we’re brought together as members of a shared community. We’re not segregating ourselves by the size of our checkbooks. We’re just parents cheering on our kids together.

Even for those who don’t have children in the schools, or live here just part of the year, we still shop at the same neighborhood grocery stores. We explore the same parks, sit next to each other at the same diners, and share a pew at the same churches on Sunday.

Now obviously, differences in family income have an impact here as it does everywhere. Yet somehow economic disparity feels more muted in Door County. In most “resort communities” you don’t see much mingling between those of different financials means. But in our beloved Door County, you find countless morning coffee groups, book clubs or play groups comprised of people who have dramatically different backgrounds. We have a shared connection to this place, which is more meaningful than the value of our investment accounts.

I love that people in Door County so freely give of themselves to sustain our quality of life.

What makes Door County “special” differs for each of us. But no matter how we define it, we’re willing to do our part to keep it special. We have a tremendous number of volunteers who share their time, and even more folks who are willing to give of their financial resources to sustain our quality of life. Think about how many folks you know who only moved or retired to Door County only in the last few years, but have quickly become engaged in our civic life.

There are lots of areas in Florida and Arizona with high concentrations of retirees. In those places, people identify themselves largely by the work they used to do and the city in which they used to live. Consider how we talk about each other in Door County. Here we use community involvement to describe others and help define what we care about. “Oh, you’ll like her. She’s really involved with Midsummer’s Music.” “He’s a good guy. He’s on the Board of AFT.” For the Door County retiree, our civic and charitable activities come to define us to others as much as (if not more than) our former professions.

The Clearing Folk School hosts a series of community potluck dinners in February and March. Perhaps as many as 150 people show up carrying a dish to share and are eager for an evening of friendship and conversation. I am always amazed at how many people turn out, so I often ask people the same question. I note that they have the means to live anywhere they want, yet they choose to be in Door County – and in their case, in the coldest months of the year.

Almost every answer is a variation on the same theme. They say they’ve tried Florida or Arizona (and perhaps still spend some time there during the winter), but those places offer games and distractions. Door County offers an opportunity to get involved and do something meaningful. Their creativity is nurtured here. Their minds are challenged and their skills are utilized here. In Door County, they feel more alive.

It reminds me of that line from some old, forgotten movie. “This is my most special place in all the world. Once a place touches you like this, the wind never blows so cold again.”

That’s why I’m so passionate about giving back to sustain this community we love. We’ve got a good thing going here in Door County. And we can keep it that way if we all do our part.

I’m glad to be home.