North Carolinian, Not by Birth but 100% by Choice
It’s home and it’s absolutely where my heart is.
Granted, it did not start out by choice. And, had my mother been a person of lesser will, determination or strength, it probably would not have happened. Likewise, had I been a person of greater age, determination and will, it probably still would have happened but not without a fight.
In 1977, my mother packed me and my two older siblings into a tiny car in Clearwater, FL and drove north, stopping roughly 600 miles away, halfway up the east coast, in Cary, NC. This was not the Cary that most of us know today. This was old school Cary; the Cary where kids walked or rode bikes to the Grocery Boy, Jr. to buy a Snickers and a Coke.
Our time in Cary was brief as even back then, real estate prices were slightly out of reach for a single mother of three working a secretarial job. Wendell, a tiny town about 15 miles east of Raleigh, provided my mother with the opportunity to buy a home and settle down in a neighborhood where kids could roam freely on bikes, on skates or on foot, for hours on end, from one end of town to the other. Wendell’s motto is ‘Small town, big charm.’ We stayed in Wendell until I had completed the sixth grade and was thankfully, by that time, a person of much greater strength, determination and will than I’d been at the age of three. Due to the draw of recently relocated friends as well as family who’d been there for years, my mother came insanely close to packing us up and moving to New York, not the Manhattan New York, but small town, upstate New York. While I did put up a tremendous fight that I’m sure had some influence on the ultimate outcome, I tend to believe that we remained in NC largely because my mother already felt the way that I do now. We did pack up and move but to my joy and delight, it was to the city. We moved to Raleigh. I was 11. Hudson Belk had a downtown location. The tallest building was probably the Wake County Courthouse. Oh, and Fayetteville Street was a bricked-in pedestrian mall. Minus a four year stint in Chapel Hill and a six month stint in Charleston, SC, I have had a Raleigh address ever since.
I went to Ligon Middle School and Brougton High School, two of the shining stars of WCPSS. I’m friends with my seventh grade math teacher on Facebook. I reconnected about 6 years ago with a friend I first met in kindergarten (through Facebook of course) who is now part of my inner circle of friends in Raleigh. It is rare that a week goes by that I don’t run into a Broughton classmate around town. It drives my husband batty. If I had a nickel for every time he uttered, upon introduction to someone new, ‘let me guess, you went to Broughton,’ I’d have jars full of them. Admittedly, there were times when I, too, tired of constantly running into people I knew back then. I cherish those moments now.
Despite the urging and encouragement of various family members who thought I should spread my wings, I went to Carolina (yes, there is only one university worthy of that moniker and it does not sit in Columbia). I trashed all other applications in process the moment I received my acceptance. I knew from the moment I watched the 1982 UNC men’s basketball team cut down the nets in the Superdome that I was going to Carolina. Thankfully, Carolina also excels in academics. I realize many people have an undying love and affinity for their college and its town, but those of us who know the proper pronunciation of Dey Hall, or laid out on a slightly too chilly day in a bikini in the arboretum, or know the legend of Silent Sam, understand what I mean when I say it’s different for us. If you have strolled across the quad in Chapel Hill on a crisp fall morning or a crystal clear afternoon in the spring, you get it. I recently forced my husband, an NC State grad, to take a walk to the Old Well. He was dumbfounded to learn that all of the adulation is just for a ‘stupid water fountain.’ It’s so much more than that.
Remaining in NC after graduation was never part of my ‘plan.’ One day I was moving to Chicago; the next day I was moving to NYC; the day after that I was moving to San Francisco. Ultimately, I just moved back home.
It was not until recently that I learned that NC is not only my home based on having grown up here but that it is also, in many ways, my ancestral home. My paternal uncle, a genealogy buff, has uncovered an abundance of family ties to NC. In addition to a connection to Joel Lane, upon whose land Raleigh was built, his research recently revealed that my grandfather, six times removed, Colonel John Hinton, built a home on the Neuse River just east of Raleigh known as Square Brick House. The house burned in 1786 but one of the bricks is on display at the Mordecai House, about a mile from where I live today.
There are a lot of very obvious reasons why NC is an amazing place. First and foremost, we have arguably some of the most beautiful, pristine beaches on the entire east coast. Couple the beaches with the hues and peaks of the Smoky and Appalachain mountains and you have a geographic wonderland. And let’s not overlook the fact that you can get to either within a matter of hours from Raleigh. We still generally experience four distinct seasons. We get snow days (occasionally). We have lightning bugs. We have cicadas whose nighttime screeching on a sweltering July night will ring in your ears for days thereafter. We have kudzu and honeysuckle. We have a Stanley Cup. We have college basketball and Tobacco Road. We have Rod Brind-Amour and Michael Jordan. We have the NC State Fair. We have some of the best colleges and universities in the country. We have world renowned scholars and researchers. We have not one but two varieties of barbecue over which many a battle has been fought. But, at the end of the day, there are a lot of beautiful states with a variety of wildlife, unique indigenous foods, hometown celebrities and topnotch institutions.
When I look back on the now 37 or so years I have spent in NC, it’s the sense of community and the people that have kept me here. Raleigh, and the Triangle as a whole, has blossomed over the years, becoming an area enriched by a diversity of people and offerings. Many of these people are generous stewards of this community who dedicate their time and money to ensuring that it’s always living up to its potential. It’s the people who build thriving businesses and make significant financial contributions. It’s the people who visit and support the local museums. It’s the people who open restaurants and source products from local farmers. It’s the people who set up community gardens. It’s the people who ride bikes, run or walk along our 30 miles of greenway. It’s the people who spearhead grassroots events like Hopscotch and SparkCon. It’s the people who harvest and transport their produce and baked goods to City Plaza every Wednesday for the farmer’s market. It’s the people I pass everyday on my walk to work who offer a hello or a nod of acknowledgement. It’s the people who, whether in public office or otherwise, fight tirelessly, day after day, to do what’s best for this community and all of its citizens. That’s what makes NC so special to me and to want to continue to call it home…a bunch of amazing people who also happen to live in one of the most beautiful states of the lower 48.
Below you will find our stories about North Carolina and why we love it so much. These stories sparked the comments in this article:
The Humble Vale Becomes A Mountain by Elizabeth Bender Read
Coming Home by Liz Hester
Why my permanent address will always be North Carolina by Anna Adlard
Love letter to North Carolina by Alisa Ryan Herr
North Carolina, I wish I knew how to quit you by Ileana Rodriguez
I like calling North Carolina home… by Geoff Gann
Home at Last by Angela Salamanca
Please don’t give up on North Carolina by Virginia Ingram
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