COLUMBIA — Usually, it doesn’t take me longer than a 24-hour visit to a big city before I remember why I don’t want to live in one. I feel immediately overwhelmed in places like Chicago, Cleveland or Atlanta. For many years, I felt differently about Kansas City, probably because I spent some of my growing-up years, went to school and worked there during the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. Over the years, I’ve always told people that if I had to be stranded any place in America, I hoped it would be in Kansas City because it was the kind of place where somebody would always volunteer to help you out. For instance, I remember arriving there one New Year’s Eve by bus, in the middle of a huge snowstorm to find no taxis available and was kindly driven to my destination in an airport limousine. I got back to the bus station courtesy of an empty Metro bus that the female driver was returning to the depot because the heater was broken.
Feeling disconnected in Kansas City
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