The Short and Long of It
That’s my grandad driving what should be the official vehicle of Mooresville, N.C. Yes, and that’s me in the front of the wagon. I love that in so many of the photos from this trip there’s always a big pile of red dirt visible (just like today!).
Like so many people in Mooresville, N.C. today, I’m not from here.
In 2006 my wife, Kelly, and I moved our family here from a strange, far off world called San Francisco. Funny enough, it took us about 16 minutes of living here to know exactly what you’re thinking right now – “why leave there for…here!?” We didn’t come to Mooresville because of a job opportunity. We didn’t come because of Lake Norman. Nothing against it, but we aren’t NASCAR junkies. We came because of a six-year-old boy. Nope, not our son. Me.
I grew up in Orange, California. My childhood home was way out in the hinterlands where I ran wild through orange groves and built elaborate stick-forts alongside the creeks. In 1973, my grandparents took my sister and I to a family reunion of sorts – my great grandad’s birthday, in Morganton, N.C. My grandad grew up there, and even at six years old, I could see he was so excited to go back. He ordered me my first peach cobbler ever, on my first flight ever, and I remember him telling me that I can officially say I’ve been to Tennessee as we sat on the tarmac letting folks deplane during the briefest layover ever.
I can’t tell you how long I was in North Carolina on that trip. But I can describe exactly how loudly the fresh pea pods snapped when I was shelling alongside my extended family in the big kitchen of their log home. Or how the earth smelled in my great grandad’s potting shed. Or how kind all the people were and how their accents just settled into your ears like butter into grits. I can tell you how the grass smelled, and how there were a thousand shades of green growing everywhere. Lightning bugs! Why had no one told me about lightning bugs!? My grandad showed me how to fold a basket out of a giant hydrangea leaf so we’d have a way to cart all the wild berries we were picking on the walk back from his childhood fishing spot. It’s not like I was a big city kid seeing the country for the first time. I was used to running free in the wilderness (and by free, I mean FREE because it was the 70’s after all), but this…this was so different. It was special.
When people ask me why we moved here, I tell them there are two answers. The short one is lightning bugs. (To this day, they’re my favorite natural wonder.) The long answer? It’s the reason we started MVL. We were seeking a meaningful, vibrant life, in a place that’s beautiful and in a community that’s welcoming and inclusive. Someplace where people appreciate the value of blooming dogwoods, the faint chime of church bells ringing at noon, the kindness of neighbors, picking strawberries at the local farm, and if you’re lucky, being lighted on by a lightning bug on a warm Southern night.
