Silhouette of a man with short hair, wearing a checkered shirt, holding a glass cup near his mouth, sitting indoors near a window with blurred outdoor scenery in the background.
I’ve lived in this town sixty-seven years. Opened my first drugstore down by Oak Street, back when you could still hear the factory whistle cut through the valley like a sermon. People trusted each other back then. You knew who was looking out for who.

When I was asked to join the board of Kirsten Springs, I said yes without a moment’s hesitation. Not because I’m an expert in finances or spa water, but because I know what this place needs. Jobs. Foot traffic. A reason to believe again.

I may be retired, but I’m not finished. I’ve seen what happens to small towns when they lose hope. The Springs offer more than just mineral baths—they’re a promise. A revival. We’re on the cusp of something big here. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ll stay.
— Edgar Wilkins