NORTHWESTERN COMMAND – Nearly 10 years ago, my parents and I loaded two cars to the brim and departed left Concord, Ohio, driving south. I had relatively few possessions then. I had relatively few life experiences. But I was taking my first big risk. I had accepted my first job at the Rocky Mount Telegram, a small paper, in a tiny town on the North Carolina coastal plain.
My stomach was in knots the entire trip. Big change will do that, at least for me. I’d never lived outside my native state. I felt I was traveling to a foreign land as we traversed through the Blue Ridge and to the coastal plain. I fretted crossing the Mason-Dixon line, and feared only country music would be played on the radio. I was anxious as to what awaited in my future.
Cortez burned his ships when he reached the New World to keep his crew better motivated. My parents didn’t burn their sedans but they did leave me in Rocky Mount, N.C. with a 1996 Chevy Lumina, a flip phone, and a few furnishings for a $500-per-month apartment. I was rolling the dice on a career in journalism, starting from the bottom.