Patience was one thing I had to learn when I moved from Atlantic City in the winter of 1980. That all-purpose explanation accounted for anything from the absence of edible bagels to the credit offered a total stranger. But just as smart outsiders have learned to enjoy the best of Charlotte's Southern traits, the city has profited from the influx of fresh blood. It's a symbiotic relationship. Strangers take an interest in him.
Scouts promise fame and money.
The kid has to snap up the benefits of growth, yet stay sane by remaining true to family ties and hometown roots. We've figured out how to combine Southern graciousness and love of tradition with newcomers' cultural innovations. We dance in red-hot clubs on Saturday nights and pray in redbrick churches Sunday mornings. We drink sweet tea and eat carpaccio, though we're learning not to do both at the same meal. Whether they've been slaves from West Africa or bankers from the West Coast, outsiders have enriched this region with elements from jazz to mocha lattes.