They say I'm one of the "Lucky Ones"

by Allison

It is no secret around this office that underneath my professional demeanor is a country-grown girl who is just as comfortable on the back of a 4-wheeler as I am at a black-tie ball. It slips out every now and then. Kipp once called me “country-ghetto,” and this morning Ryal referred to me as “one of the lucky ones” who made it out of lil’ ol’ Conway and into the big city of Raleigh. It’s true. I am one of the lucky ones. But believe it or not, I consider myself just as lucky to have grown up in the sticks – because if you didn’t grow up in the sticks, you probably can’t honestly say:

I took ballet for 14 years… in a garage, and loved it. I once went snow skiing in the field behind my house…as my dad drove the 4-wheeler and I gripped the rope. I do not know what “pencil rolling my jeans” means…but I do know about John Deere green. I have ridden in the back of a broken-down station wagon…as it was being pulled down Highway 158 on the way to my grandparents’ front yard where it was painted Carolina blue and covered in jokes about being over the hill. I have shamelessly participated in the “Christmas wars” every year…sneaking around town after dark to unplug neighbors’ lovely lights and decorations and lighting up the yard with crazy lights and plastic Santas. I have been known by everyone in our 751-person town as “Johnny’s baaaaby,” “J.C.’s grandbaby,” and “the Food Center man’s daughter.” I am repeatedly asked to say “how now brown cow” in my Northampton County accent.

Who-da thunk Conway could produce a PR executive? I knew it all along. And I give “home” all the credit.

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