By Tricia A. Kimmel
Yesterday, March 23, 2026, was an emotional day, much more than I ever anticipated.
As I sit here this morning thanking God for the chance to experience yesterday’s events and praying that we can make this building live up to His plans, I am utterly and profoundly grateful.
When I got the word from our building mover and neighbor, Dan, on Sunday that tomorrow’s wind and weather were finally going to cooperate and would “PJ and Shane be able to come help set the dollies,” I was understandably excited—so excited I woke up at 2:30 am with sleep a complete impossibility like a kid on Christmas. That hadn’t happened in a long while. And when the three of us ventured over to begin the work of putting wheels under an old prairie dance hall, a task which sounds much simpler than it is, we were not prepared for the spiritual overtaking that was about to begin in us all.
In retrospect, why not? It’s a story yearning to be told, like a soft whisper in the dark. This building has been the dream of countless souls—some we’ve never faced—for over 110 years.
It was the dream of my great grandparents Samuel and Maude who worked shoulder-to-shoulder with new neighbors to watch the Country Club grow from the ground up, all of them chasing the even bigger dream of building a life and community on the Big Flat.
It was the dream of my late father-in-law Pat who envisioned the building moving to town but left this earth before he could see it through.
It was the dream of my parents Sam and LuAnn who drove past the building thousands of times on their way to and from the farm, imagining the spirited celebrations that used to take place there, and my dad recalling the 4-H gatherings and dances of his youth.
It is the dream of elderly relatives who now live in other states but hold memories of the building close to their hearts.
It’s a long-held dream of my dear friend Shannon’s father Dick who loves to share his memories and stories of the place. I was so blessed to share this day alongside Shannon while we commiserated together how her late husband Johannas, though he thought it was a stretch of an idea, would have loved seeing this adventure unfold.
It was the dream of our neighbor Gene who, gone now 20 years, had the foresight to protect the building through legal means from being torn down after his death. And it’s the dream of a small group of community Lions Club members who worked to keep her healthy for a couple more decades, hoping that someday their efforts would pay off.
You see, we’re doing this for all of them. And we’re doing it for my now adult children Shane and Trever and their wives, and for their friends who we watched grow up, for their children someday, and for all who remain steadfast that “community” and having a place to gather is critical to our happiness and well-being.
She still has a couple more steps to reach her final destination but yesterday confirmed what I hoped all along. Her outer layers are slightly weathered and worn, but her bones and spirit are alive and well.
Welcome to the next chapter of the story of the Country Club – our Little Jewell.
