How Pamlico & Albemarle came into being.
You've heard it many times. Probably said it, too.
"It's a long story ..."
Usually that means that there are many details, often complications, that led up to the conclusion or result your listener has just encountered. It's a curt way of saying you don't want to explain right now. Not enough time. The details are boring. None of your business.
Often things ARE the result of a long, involved story, and the simple answer will suffice. I founded Pamlico & Albemarle in order to publish my husband's book. But the events leading up to that, at least in my opinion, are colorful and interesting. They tell you about me and my family. If you don't care, you don't have to read on - be satisfied with the simple answer. But if you're one of those people who respond to "It's a long story" with "I've got time" - read on.
Becoming A Carroll
In the early 90s, I was working as the music director for public radio in Columbia, South Carolina. Dave, now my husband and a lifelong Southern California boy, was working for Capitol Records production music department in Hollywood. He called me, looking for a sale, and instead we somehow made a connection. Hours of phone calls and two visits later - one to the east coast, one to the west - Dave decided to move cross country for me, and on the way, we were married in Bullhead City, Arizona.
The Setting
My grandfather had a beach house in Nags Head, North Carolina, so I vacationed at the Outer Banks every summer growing up. I had heard of Ocracoke - a small island off the North Carolina mainland accessible by ferry - but had never been there. Perhaps it was fate that gave me the notion that Dave and I should check it out.
Dave is a skeptic. He doesn't believe in ghosts or aliens or remote viewing. But somewhere on that two-hour ferry ride, he claims a spirit possessed him ... the spirit of Blackbeard.
For years he researched. This was in the early years of the internet, so much of his work involved many books and libraries. We returned to Ocracoke at least once a year to recharge his batteries, and he lamented how he had this story in his head ... if only he could write it! Two children and a few jobs changes later, i was getting seriously tired of hearing him complain about how he couldn't write his story. "Write a few hours at night instead of watching TV," I would say. But no, that wouldn't work, apparently.
Later I would understand.
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