North Carolina’s Bermuda Triangle, confusing Worleys since 1971.

It was the long Easter weekend, the weather was pretty, and I was looking for something different to do. I love exploring roads I’ve never traveled so I proposed a day trip to my daughters. Fortunately for me, they were both up for an adventure. I thought of Raven Rock State Park because it’s close enough to home to be a reasonable drive and has the added benefit of being a nice spot to walk on a spring day. Even better, the park is not too far from Wilber’s, Goldsboro’s legendary barbecue restaurant. It seemed a shame that neither my Tar Heel-born daughters nor their Tar Heel-bred mom had ever eaten at Wilber’s and this excursion was just the excuse we needed.

Although this was my first trip to Raven Rock, it wasn’t my first time in Harnett County. Back before I-40 was completed between Greensboro and Wilmington, the way to the beach from Chapel Hill went through Harnett County and included an infamous area near Buie’s Creek, Coats, and Angier that my husband Ron and I came to call North Carolina’s Bermuda Triangle, Neither of us is stupid and both of us can read maps but somehow, some way, we managed to get lost in that same spot every time we drove to the beach. It was so bad that we contemplated putting up a plaque at one particular crossroads there, honoring our relationship and the fact that it somehow survived countless trips through the bewildering fog of Harnett County’s own Bermuda Triangle.

All these years later, my daughters and I had the benefit of 2012 technology but mysterious forces were still at work in Harnett County, turning us around and confusing us so that we ended up on a dirt road somewhere in the middle of nowhere.  Eventually we did find our way to Raven Rock State Park where we enjoyed a good walk down to the Cape Fear River – although down to the river did mean a steep ways back up to where we started.  As we were leaving, we came upon a longtime Chapel Hill friend, Marianne Jones, walking the same trail – a nice surprise ending to our Raven Rock excursion.

From Raven Rock, we headed to Wayne County and Wilber’s Barbecue.  I appreciated the way Wilber’s fit right into an unattractive commercial strip leading into Goldsboro.  A barbecue restaurant doesn’t need to put on airs and Wilber’s wasn’t trying to. Working class people in North Carolina take a business-like approach to good food, not wasting time on banter or socializing, but instead getting right down to the serious task of eating. The silent concentration of the crowd at Wilber’s was a giveaway to just how good the barbecue was and sure enough it lived up to its legendary status.

On our return trip to Chapel Hill, I thought back to a favorite activity of my daughters when they were kids and we would spontaneously pick a road we’d never been on before and drive down it.  It may not sound all that thrilling but there’s something exciting and even magical about realizing there are roads you’ve never traveled and things you’ve never seen, even though you’ve been driving right past them for years. The recollection of those fun times was my inspiration to extend the concept statewide.  That’s when I set a personal goal to explore each of the 100 counties in the Tar Heel state.  After all, it’s pretty unlikely I’ll ever make it to another continent or even to every state in the US but there is plenty of adventure available right here in my own home state.  And so, the 100 county quest was born.

April 7, 2012.  Check Harnett and Wayne counties off the list – now I’ve got 98 more to go.

Esse Quam Videri – To Be Rather Than to Seem.

When I was an undergraduate at UNC in the early 70s, I took a class with the esteemed sociologist, John Shelton Reed. It was just the sort of class you imagine and hope that college will offer, with each day bringing something new and thought-provoking to ponder.

One day, Professor Reed told us about the results of a nationwide survey that asked Americans what state they would choose to live in if they could live anywhere in the country. To much laughter, he revealed to our class that, out of all the fifty states, North Carolina topped the list of those whose residents preferred their own state to any other. As the laughter died down though, you could see the wheels turning in people’s minds as all of us started considering how we ourselves might have answered that question. Before long, we begin admitting to one another somewhat abashedly that, when it came right down to it, we too would pick North Carolina over any other state as a place to call home.

Every state has its attributes but the truth is it’s hard to pin down anything particularly special about the state of North Carolina. Sure we’ve got mountains and beaches and barbecue and college basketball but plenty of other states have good food and even more striking vistas. College basketball, okay, no one can top us there but is that reason enough for people to never want to leave?

Tar Heel fourth graders learn the old saying in their North Carolina history class that North Carolina is a vale of humility between two mountains of conceit (those would be South Carolina and Virginia). All of us are able to appreciate the irony that North Carolinians take great pride in being renowned for humility. North Carolinians ARE a deeply proud people, it’s just hard to pin down what it is we love so much about this place.

Years ago there was a commercial with the memorable refrain “I like calling North Carolina home.” More than anything tangible you can point to that makes us like this place, that song sums up what is the closest I can come to an explanation. It’s the reason I exhale a little sigh of relief when I cross the state line and see the “Welcome to North Carolina” sign. North Carolina is home.