Growth is here. Moore County needs a plan.

The time has come: We need more than lip service about growth, water, roads, schools, and development

#Opinion • 7:15 p.m. June 10, 2026

I am a Moore County native, which is apparently still up for debate depending on who is holding court that day.

I was born here. My roots are here. My people are here. But because I did not graduate from Moore County High School, I still get the occasional version of, “You ain’t from around here.”

That used to bother me more than it does now. These days, my answer is pretty simple: I choose to be here.

I have skin in the game. I pay property taxes. I pay business taxes. That's more than many with louder voices pony up. I shop here, eat here, fuss here, listen here, and sit through the same meetings many of you attend. So yes, I have a voice, an opinion.

Here is the thing, though: You do, too.

And right now, Moore County needs more voices in the conversation, not fewer. Not just the loud ones. Not just the old ones. Not just the connected ones. Not just the people who have always been in the room.

Everybody who lives here, pays here, works here, raises kids here, owns land here, rents here, runs a business here, or hopes to build a life here deserves a seat at the table.

Because the table is where the problem is.

This is a planning problem

Moore County does not have a water problem. Moore County has a planning problem.

That is not a swipe at the Metro Utility Department. In fact, some of the people closest to the water issue have been saying out loud what ought to be obvious by now. Earlier this year, MUD board member Greg Guinn brought up the need for a long-range plan. On Tuesday, MUD Chair Barry Posluszny also touched on future planning.

They are not wrong.

Planning and Zoning Chair Dexter Golden has been more vocal in recent months about looking ahead rather than just reacting to whatever lands on the agenda. Metro Council member Douglas Carson raised the need for three- and five-year plans in June 2025 and again in January.

Again, not wrong.

The problem is that saying the word “plan” in a public meeting is not the same thing as having one.

Right now, no county board, committee, or working group is doing the hard work of building that kind of plan. Not talking around it. Not nodding toward it. Not waiting until the next development, budget fight, water question, road issue, or school-capacity concern forces the county into another defensive crouch.

Actually doing it.

That means sitting down with real numbers, real maps, real infrastructure limits, real growth projections, real school capacity, real utility needs, real road concerns, and real tax implications.

It means deciding what Moore County wants to be before the decision gets made for us one subdivision, one rezoning request, one lawsuit, one budget cycle, and one emergency repair at a time.

That is not planning.

That is whack-a-mole with public money.

We have been here before

Moore County has already gone down this road once.

In 2009, local officials worked through the Metropolitan Lynchburg/Moore County, Tennessee Land Use and Transportation Plan. It was adopted on Jan. 5, 2010, and it was supposed to serve as the guide for Moore County through 2029.

That date matters.

Because 2029 is no longer some far-off place. It is around the bend. And the issues the plan was supposed to help Moore County think through – land use, roads, utilities, housing, transportation, and how one decision affects the next – are no longer theoretical.

They are showing up on agendas, in lawsuits, in budget talks, and in school enrollment numbers.

So this is not about inventing some brand-new idea. Moore County has long known that planning matters. The difference this time is that the plan cannot be treated as a document to adopt, shelve, and reference at will.

This time, it needs to become the backbone of every major decision the county makes. Not a suggestion. Not a talking point. The backbone.

People want to be here

Moore County also does not have a construction problem.

Take a look at the number of building permits Planning and Zoning handles, and you get a pretty clear picture of what builders and people looking for a place to call home think of this county.

People want to be here.

That is not a bad thing. Plenty of small towns would love to have that problem.

The question is not whether people want Moore County. The question is whether Moore County is prepared for them.

There is a difference between growth and chaos. There is a difference between protecting the county and freezing it in amber. There is a difference between asking hard questions and moving the goalposts after somebody has already spent real money.

There is also a difference between saying “not yet” and saying “not ever.” And there is a difference between being difficult and trying to toe the line.

If it seems the current administration is trying to toe that line, it is because they are. There are growing pains that come with that. Previous handshake deals opened Pandora’s box. We cannot put the toothpaste back in the tube, but we can uphold our own standards moving forward.

(And someday, Moore County will have the codes discussion it needs. That is a fight for another day.)

For now, this much is plain: A real plan means saying yes sometimes. It means saying no sometimes. It means saying not here, not that way, or not until the infrastructure catches up.

But at least people would know the rules before they spend the money.

That matters.

Whiskey Creek matters. Gateway matters. School enrollment matters. Water-line extensions, bridge access, road standards, and fire flow matter. So do property rights, tax bills, and the people wondering whether their kids can afford to live here someday.

In a county this size, small moves have big consequences. A few dozen houses here matter. A 44-unit project matters. A school enrollment bump matters. A bridge matters. A road matters.

Trust starts before the vote

That is why planning cannot be treated like some government luxury.

It is not a binder on a shelf. It is not a consultant’s report nobody reads. It is not a box to check when grant money shows up.

A real plan tells property owners what to expect. It tells developers where the county can support growth and where it cannot. It tells taxpayers what infrastructure will cost before the bill is due. It gives schools, MUD, Planning and Zoning, and Metro Council the same map, rather than letting each vote stand on its own.

Mostly, it lets regular people see where the county is headed before they read about it in an agenda packet.

Because too often, we operate as if public input means showing up after the sausage has already been made. People get three minutes at a microphone, a polite nod, and then everybody moves on.

That may satisfy the legal requirement. It does not build trust.

Trust is built before the vote, not after. It is built so that people can see the numbers. It is built when the county explains the trade-offs in plain English. It is built when officials say what can be done, what cannot be done, what will cost money, and who will pay for it.

Trust is built when the rules are clear before somebody walks into the room, not rewritten after the fact.

Growth sends invoices

And let’s be honest about something else: Moore County cannot tax-cut its way into better infrastructure. It cannot nostalgia its way into more classrooms. It cannot rumor its way into better planning. It cannot keep saying “we need growth to grow the penny” while acting surprised when growth shows up with water, sewer, road, school, fire, EMS, and zoning questions attached.

Growth can help grow the penny. It also sends invoices. Pretending one exists without the other is how counties get sideways.

A better Moore County will not come from one board side-eyeing another. It will not come from Facebook threads where everybody knows everything and nobody has to vote on anything. It will not come from treating every new idea like a threat or every concern like an obstruction.

And it will not come from people waiting until something affects their driveway, their tax bill, their water meter, or their kid’s classroom before they decide to pay attention.

This is not one board’s homework

MUD cannot do it alone. Planning and Zoning cannot do it alone. Metro Council cannot keep voting on one agenda item at a time and pretend the pieces are not connected.

Schools need a chair. So do emergency services, roads, MUD, Planning and Zoning, Metro Council, business owners, farmers, developers, retirees, young families, old-timers, and newcomers.

It will take everyone rowing toward a better Moore County to actually have a better Moore County.

That sounds simple because it is. But simple does not mean easy. We are growing.

Maybe not like Murfreesboro. Maybe not like Spring Hill. Maybe not like Manchester or Tullahoma. But we are growing in ways that matter here because we are small.

That is the part people keep missing.

Small counties do not have much room for sloppy decisions. We cannot absorb mistake after mistake and pretend the tax base, the roads, the schools, and the utilities will somehow sort it out later.

Later is expensive.

Put the facts on the table

So the work now is not to pick a slogan. The work is to build a plan sturdy enough to survive the next election cycle, the next board appointment, the next budget fight, and the next round of “you ain’t from around here.”

Moore County needs a real long-range planning process, and it needs one soon.

Not a study designed to gather dust. Not a political shield. Not a way to slow-walk every hard decision until people give up.

A real process.

Where can we grow? Where should we not? What infrastructure do we have? What infrastructure do we need? What will it cost? What rules are clear? What rules are muddy? What do we want Moore County to look like in three years? Five years? Ten?

And once those answers are on paper, they need to matter. That is the part Moore County cannot skip again.

A plan that does not guide votes is just a stack of pages. A plan that does not shape budgets is just decoration. A plan that does not inform zoning, utilities, roads, schools, emergency services, and economic development is not really a plan.

It is paperwork.

The choice now is whether Moore County uses a real plan as the backbone of county decisions – or keeps pretending every issue is separate until all of them land in the same ditch.

I choose to be here. A lot of us do. Now, Moore County needs to choose what kind of county it intends to be.

What are we willing to do now so the next generation is not stuck cleaning up our lack of courage?