I was born in Raleigh, N.C. My mother, a North Carolina native from Alexander County, moved to Raleigh to attend N.C. State and stayed in town after graduating. My father, raised on the south side of Chicago, moved to Raleigh after law school. They met at a party, eventually were married, and I came along a few years thereafter. Mom says that Dad had to go out to walk the dogs on Halloween and, having seen trick-or-treaters, declared he wanted one of his own. I arrived in July.
I’m a lifelong journey fan. No, not the band, the actual move-across-the-surface-of-the-planet version. As a Navy kid, I grew up with a passport in one hand, and a ticket in the other, as comfortable crossing borders as I was crossing my fingers when promising I wouldn’t venture outside my prescribed geographic boundaries. The places I wasn’t supposed to go always looked so much more interesting.
Smoky Mountain Living prominently features images from across the southern Appalachians in each edition. Photo essays adhere to the issue’s overall theme.