I don’t mean to imply that moving to North Carolina was all doom and gloom. Since hiking on portions of the Appalachian Trail in the western part of the state as a young boy scout, I had been taken by the beauty and verdant qualities of the Tarheel territory. I was also an admirer of the music and wistful lyrics of James Taylor, particularly romanticizing the verses of “Carolina In My Mind.” And now I wasn’t just gone to Carolina in my mind. As I made the drive for the official start of my seminary experience at the end of the summer of nineteen hundred and ninety-eight, I stopped under an interstate bridge during a thunderstorm just across the border of North Carolina and let James serenade me once again.
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Gone to Carolina
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I don’t mean to imply that moving to North Carolina was all doom and gloom. Since hiking on portions of the Appalachian Trail in the western part of the state as a young boy scout, I had been taken by the beauty and verdant qualities of the Tarheel territory. I was also an admirer of the music and wistful lyrics of James Taylor, particularly romanticizing the verses of “Carolina In My Mind.” And now I wasn’t just gone to Carolina in my mind. As I made the drive for the official start of my seminary experience at the end of the summer of nineteen hundred and ninety-eight, I stopped under an interstate bridge during a thunderstorm just across the border of North Carolina and let James serenade me once again.