1940s

THE EARLY YEARS

WE WERE SO POOR IN THOSE DAYS, BUT SOMEHOW I JUST DIDN’T REALIZE IT.

Growing up poor is how I learned humility and that middle class folks were not rich just because they had nice brick homes and fancy cars. They shared the same values as my family but had more shiny things, which they had worked for. We had very little—no indoor plumbing for bathrooms, no TV, a rattletrap car, and lots of our Christmas presents and clothes came from Goodwill. But we did have an old upright piano. And my time spent playing it would serve me very well later on.

My dad became an evangelist after he was diagnosed with lung cancer. We kids would play and sing, and he would preach hellfire and brimstone (an old Southern expression).

In my childhood, I began to analyze how to move up the food chain while remaining humble. I wouldn’t change a thing about the way I was raised. My musical ability, cultivated during that time, became my “glass slipper,” except I wouldn’t lose it!

I love the sentiment of the Ricky Skaggs song “Don’t Get Above Your Raisin’.” It’s kind of funny, but it’s the way blue-collar Southern folks thought about things. And it’s the way I still think about things.

1. Me in front of Dad’s car in Greensboro, North Carolina.

2. Me in front of our house in Greensboro.

3. Me with Dad, my brothers, and my sister in Elkin, North Carolina, at my grandmother’s house (I’m first to Dad’s right).

4. Me (center), Mom, and my brothers on our dairy farm in Greensboro.

5. Me (second to right), my brothers, and my sister dressed up for church in Walkertown, North Carolina.

6. Grandma Brown, Dad, and all my aunts in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

7. Me, Mom, and my sister at home in Walkertown.