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I roadmap dream of Hasselhoffski.

Not really. But when I ponder the whole Milepost motto of “Stuck here on purpose,” I picture my buddy, Lukasz Chrzanowski: lifeguard-extraordinaire turned pool-cleaner turned satellite-dish-installer.


Not because he’s all bronzed and tan, has a funny accent and spends his days on the beach. (At least he used to.) But because he made the big leap to go local in a way far beyond most transplants. Especially those of us who drifted in from some surrounding state one summer, had a few too many beers beneath the hot sun, and woke up decades later wondering how we still make it happen. No, Lukasz came all the way from Poland then never looked back. Forget Prague or Paris or London — or any other more cosmopolitan world center that offered who knows what opportunities much closer to home. Something about the Outer Banks struck him as better. He saw. He loved. Then he took three jobs to make sure he never had to leave. So while his background sounds exotic, his mission is as familiar and simple as that of any other longtime resident: plant your flag then find a way to stay put. And that belief — that commitment — is what ultimately binds our community and defines its character.


plant your flag then find a way to stay put.


Sure, not everyone is exactly alike. Some are older. They may wear coveralls instead of a Speedo. (Thank goodness.) Some even grew up here — then stayed on the boat or in the kitchen because it was a clear path to posting up permanently. All probably seem ridiculously fortunate to anyone who shows up on a perfect fall day — and just plain nuts to anyone who comes here mid-March. But as our essay on page 18 shows, none of us are lucky. Or crazy. We simply found the place where the people and culture make us happiest and worked hard to stick tight. And by doing so, everybody’s number one occupation here is to save someone’s life — their own.  — Matt Walker Thank you for reading Outer Banks Milepost. We hope you enjoy it. If not — before chucking this issue in the nearest dumpster — please consider one of the following equally satisfying ways of expressing your disgust: Fishwrapper. Flyswatter. Shred it for packaging. It even makes a handy liner for birdcages and litter boxes. Or simply add it to that six-month stack of newspapers you’ve yet to recycle. (Trust us: you’ll feel better.) Then send any and all feedback — positive, negative or just plain confused — to Or light us up on Facebook with your opinions and ideas. We promise to find some way to re-purpose them.

Most folks call it the KDH Bath House. Its official name is “Ocean Bay Boulevard Regional Access Building.” Lucasz calls it home. PHOTO: Ben Miller milepost 3

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Stuck here on purpose


Stuck here on purpose

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