Category: Uncategorized

By Chantel Gillus

Brianya Chambliss grew up in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina, where she had big dreams of becoming an entertainer.

As a child, she aspired to be in the spotlight, whether it was through music, dancing or both. 

She also served as a role model to her younger sister, Destiny, encouraging her to stay focused in school and strive towards her goals. 

Kelsey Boyd lives thirty minutes away in Enfield, North Carolina. She started out taking pictures in her snazzy outfits throughout middle and high school, and she created a YouTube channel called DKNZ with three of her closest friends in highschool. 

Boyd was in her freshman year of college, when she was encouraged by a friend and fellow content creator to take content creation seriously. This led to her creating a solo YouTube channel, purchasing a camera and documenting her adventures. 

Jordyn Middleton, who was born and raised in Washington, D.C., also had a passion for fashion along with a strong connection to poetry and spirituality. 

She said she remembered going to a church conference when she was younger and being driven to content creation after being touched by the devotion of one of the women she met there.

“I remember the Holy Spirit coming over me,” she said. “And as soon as I got back to Washington, D.C., I remember I wanted to be a part of this and I wanted to share about God just as other people have and how he’s touched me and moved me in my life.”

Different approach, same passion

Boyd, Chambliss and Middleton are all up and coming content creators who have three different, yet slightly similar missions. 

The trio are currently attending different universities. Boyd and Middleton go to UNC-Chapel Hill and Chambliss goes to North Carolina Agricultural & Technical State University. 

Chambliss said she wanted to become an influencer so she can have an outlet to do the things she couldn’t or was too afraid to in person. She wants to use social media to connect with other people. 

Boyd said she got into content creation because she loves fashion. She loves trying to find ways to make things look aesthetically pleasing. 

She describes herself as a micro-influencer with a minimalistic aesthetic. She enjoys creating content for the fun of it, exhibiting her life, outgoing personality, and style in her own unique way. 

“There is no one else at all like Kelsey,” she said. “So me being me, just me being my loving, goofy, just showing my personality, my bubbly, social self. I think that’s what I bring, along with being a resource to people.” 

Outside of fashion and lifestyle content, Boyd and Middleton like to use their platform to exhibit what life is like for them as Black women at UNC-CH for current and future college students.

Boyd said there aren’t a lot of Black students at predominantly white institutions like UNC-CH, and there are even fewer Black students with an online presence like hers. So, she tries to use her platform to answer questions other Black students might have about going to school there.

Middleton said Black womanhood is very important to her. She said being the best version of herself she can be is critical to both herself and Black women and girls in general. 

“I just try my very best to be intentional about the words that I say because I know that the little, young people that are coming behind me are looking at me, and I just want to make sure I’m making decisions that will be positive on them,” said Middleton. 

Unlike Middleton, Chambliss often posts Q&A’s, vlogs, dances and original music. She said she likes to post things she comes up with because she likes the feeling of making her mark on the content she creates.

All of them said they try to come up with unique content and be their most authentic selves.

“I am a firm believer that if it’s meant for you, then it’ll be meant for you. If I continue to be myself, I’m not gonna do anything that is outside of my comfort zone just because it’s a trend. I am going to stay within my realm and do what’s comfortable for me,” Boyd said.

Being a light for others

The three of them said that, as content creators, there’s a gratification that comes with garnering love from your audience and being a beacon of light for others.

Boyd said she can see the impact she’s had on people through her interactions with people on campus. She said people would see her and tell her they watched her YouTube videos and encouraged her to keep making content.

“I definitely see the influence in that and it does make me feel good, and it makes me want to keep going because you never know who’s watching,” said Boyd. 

However, they all said they were careful not to rely on validation from others.

Chambliss said it was important to acknowledge that people might not know what others are going through. So, she said she doesn’t care how others feel about her experiences. Only she knows what they have been like for her and how to express that in the content she creates.

For Middleton, being herself and making content that reflects that is a testament of what God wants her to be. She doesn’t want to get caught up in trying to be who other people want her to be. She just wants to be herself.

To them, the importance of being a content creator is all about reveling in your individuality and never letting up. 

“Believe in yourself. Take time for yourself and say, ‘I can do this.’ Taking the time to sit back and really tell yourself if this is what you want, you’re gonna find a way to do it — no matter how long it takes,” said Chambliss.

—

Edited by Katie Lin and Guillermo Molero

By Isabella Braddish

February weather is a guessing game for residents of the Tar Heel State. One day, it’s snowfall. The next, a beautiful 60-degree day that calls for an extended lunch break.

Conditions may be unpredictable, but North Carolina apiarists — also known as beekeepers — start their seasonal work on February 1. Rain or shine.

Chapel Hill residents Guy and Ingrid Fricks began their beekeeping careers when they purchased two bee hives in early 2000s and opened Fricks Apiaries. Following a move from Carolina Beach, the couple became invested in protecting the local environment and building a community of honey enthusiasts. 

A former yacht carpenter, Guy Fricks turned to beekeeping — a practice he said is a dying art. A proverb has circulated in the hearts and minds of the couple since moving to Chapel Hill.

“Beekeeping is the poetry of agriculture,” Guy Fricks said. 

‘Nothing short of necessary’

In the United States, more than one-third of all crop pollination requires some sort of insect pollination. Therefore, bees aid in the production of about one-third of the food supply. They also help prevent soil erosion. Without the presence of bees, the diversity and availability of fresh produce would drastically decline. 

“Beekeeping is nothing short of necessary for this world we live in,” Guy Fricks said. 

The United States Department of Agriculture has estimated that bees and butterflies help pollinate approximately 75% of the world’s flowering plants. Not only do bees pollinate roughly 35% of the world’s food crops like fruits and vegetables, but they are responsible for providing stable ecosystems for other animals and insects.

The process of pollination provides stability in numerous ecological settings. 

“For decades, honey bee populations have been on the decline,” Guy Fricks said. “From pesticides to parasites to destruction of habitats, they just can’t seem to catch a break.” 

This perpetual decline has been occurring for some time. But in recent years, the decline of pollinators has dramatically worsened, largely due to a phenomenon that the United States Environmental Protection Agency calls  “Colony Collapse Disorder,” or CCD.

CCD occurs when environmental circumstances or human intervention cause worker bees to flee the hive, leaving behind the queen bee and the remaining honey supply.

‘Innovative? Always.’

After learning just how powerful beekeeping is in terms of environmental sustainability, Guy Fricks said he decided to translate his interest into a business.

This drive resulted in the genesis of a full-time family venture that revolves around community, passion, dedication, and sustainability. To Guy Fricks, it also ensures the future of local beekeeping. 

“Innovative? Always. Boring? Never,” Guy Fricks said. 

The Chapel Hill-based farm offers an array of products and services that revolve around the beauty of bees and the art of beekeeping.

Fricks Apiaries produces and sells raw, unfiltered honey from honeybees that forage across Orange, Chatham and Alamance Counties. It sells raw local honey, creamed honey, comb honey, bee pollen, handmade beeswax candles and other hive products.

The farm also sells N.C.-raised queen bees from their locally-adapted stock, typically available from April to September. To ensure continued demand for beekeeping in the area, the family offers pollination services to farmers from February to September. 

For $40 plus shipping fees, patrons can buy Carniolan or Italian Queens, the two most common N.C.-raised queen bees. Fricks Apiaries prides itself on its honeybee selection, Guy Fricks said, as its stocks are selected to thrive in North Carolina while resisting pests and diseases.

‘Nothing quite like their honey’

For the benefit of patrons’ health and individual wellness, the honey from Fricks Apiaries is completely raw and unfiltered, which allows for the honey to retain its pollen particles and natural enzymes.

One of the apiary’s products, freeze-dried bee pollen, has a long history of medicinal use. Propolis is a resin-like material that honeybees father from bark or buds and mix with their wax. Medicinal use of this substance dates back to ancient Greek and Egyptian civilizations, where it would be used for its healing properties. 

Loyal customer and Chapel Hill resident Mary Voelkel was quick to rave about the quality products Fricks has to offer. 

“There is nothing quite like their honey,” Voelkel said. “Not only is local honey crucial for allergy sufferers like myself, but it also tastes amazing.” 

Another customer, Carolina Ramirez, was eager to offer tips for consuming Fricks’ honey. 

“Honey is one thing,” she said. “But hot honey seriously changes the game. You can put it on anything and see how it instantly transforms a flavor profile immediately.” 

Fricks Apiaries’ products can also be found at fan-favorite shops such as Maple View Farm Ice Cream. 

“Those products sell out quite often and definitely seem to be a hit,” a spokesperson for Maple View said. 

Although Guy and Ingrid Fricks said they love to see customers enjoying their products, they urge buyers to understand how important the art of beekeeping is in sustaining a fully-functioning and lively environment. 

“We need to put environmental issues at the forefront of more minds,” Guy Fricks said. 

As both local and global populations increase, bees are essential in providing a sustainable and constant source of diverse agriculture. 

Local beekeeping and businesses like Fricks Apiaries are one piece of conservation efforts in North Carolina and across the county. Their efforts are possible only with the support of the community.

“It all starts and ends at the individual level,” Guy Fricks said. “We need people to really care about this cause because its effects can be seen both at the micro- and macro-level.”

Edited by Allie Kelly and Mattie Collins

By Anna Connors 

Jerilyn Maclean arranges dozens of native plants on a folding table outside Woods Charter School in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. In front, she props handwritten signs with the name of each plant and how to care for it. When someone stops by her table, she explains how native plants changed her life. She hopes she might convince them to buy one.

Maclean didn’t know her passion would touch the lives of hundreds of her neighbors in two short years.

“Jerilyn has changed my life,” said Kathleen Southworth, a neighbor of Maclean. “Nature is coming back to my yard. And it’s all because of her.”

Maclean is the founder of the Briar Chapel Native Plant Club, a neighborhood organization with more than 500 members. Every Saturday morning between March and June, she sells plants in the parking lot of Woods Charter. 

Almost every other day of the week, she can be found gardening in her yard and in the park behind her house, offering advice to neighbors, fighting for change in her neighborhood’s landscaping practices and giving talks about native plants. Maclean is on a mission to prevent the extinction of native species — one plant at a time. 

Gardening was not always the focus of Maclean’s life. In her hometown of Napa, California, she began her career in accounting. 

But in 2014, with four kids between the ages of 5 and 11, Maclean was diagnosed with a chronic illness. The doctor’s prognosis was bleak. Her illness was incurable.

Maclean’s garden became her escape. Outdoors, with her hands and feet caked in dirt, she felt at home.

The more she planted, the more her backyard filled with life. Hummingbirds began to feed on the coral honeysuckle by her back fence. Monarch caterpillars crawled up stems of milkweed. Snakes slithered through blankets of woodland phlox. Bees buzzed around blossoms of coneflower.

“If you plant, wildlife will come,” Maclean said. “Every plant makes a difference.”

Maclean began posting images of her yard in neighborhood forums like Nextdoor. And her neighbors began to notice.

In the fall of 2021, Amy Coughlin, Maclean’s neighbor and owner of Breakaway Cafe, asked Maclean if she wanted to sell her plants outside Breakaway. Those plant sales helped spread the word about Maclean’s business.

“She got a lot of attention, and she had a lot of opportunities to promote the importance of native plant sales,” Coughlin said. “Customers and patrons really, really liked it.” 

Soon, Maclean had customers driving in from Cary, Apex and High Point to buy her plants. Not everyone, however, was happy about Maclean’s burgeoning business. 

The Briar Chapel Homeowners Association protested Maclean’s unruly yard — saying her wild greenery was too messy. A tenant next to Breakaway Cafe complained to the complex’s landlord about Maclean’s Saturday plant sales, forcing her to move her sales elsewhere. When Maclean asked her HOA if she could hold her sale in Briar Chapel, they refused.

Maclean didn’t give up. 

Briar Chapel is a suburban sprawl of 2,000 identical row houses. It prides itself on green grass and perfectly pruned trees. The manicured look comes with a price.

Maclean said the Briar Chapel HOA spends $150,000 per year on pine needles alone, which are used to cover empty garden beds surrounding non-native trees. Sod, the neighborhood’s grass of choice, requires constant watering in the summer. Hired landscapers blow leaves on the medians and sidewalks three times a week.

“They want an old-fashioned, colonial look,” Maclean said. “Even if it means the extinction of our butterflies, bees, birds, moths, fireflies, amphibians.”

Nearly one million plant and animal species are at risk of extinction, some within decades, according to a 2019 report by the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services.

With estimates of private land ownership in the United States as high as 78%, Maclean says the onus falls on private landowners to make a difference.

The American fascination with manicured lawns dates back to the 1600s. A New York Times video “The Great American Lawn” explains that, as European farm animals ate through native grasses, foreign seeds were imported to replace native grasses. Green lawns became a symbol of wealth and status — a symbol that continues today.

Maclean said the American ideal of a manicured lawn needs to change.

“Five years ago, there were butterflies all over my yard every day,” Maclean said. “And now I see fewer and fewer, even with all the food that’s available to them. Do people care about that? How much do you care? Do you care more about having your four little round shrubs and your sod? Or do you care more about the future of the planet, for your children and grandchildren?”

Maclean’s yard is small, no more than 1,000 square feet. Every inch is covered with native plants. Bee balm, golden alexander and coreopsis — now dormant for the winter — run along her front sidewalk. On either side of her house crawl tangles of mountain mint and goldenrod. In the back, framed by a white fence, lies a patchwork of potted plants, their leaves only just starting to peek through the soil. Come spring, Maclean’s yard will be teeming with life.

On a cold day in early February, Maclean walks through her garden, pulling out the occasional weed and admiring the baby leaves of her plants poking through the soil. Spring is on its way, Maclean said, and this year will be her biggest year yet. She’s ordered 1,400 milkweed plants from a local nursery, fronting the cost out of her personal bank account. Her backyard is brimming with hundreds more potted plants she’s cultivated over the winter in preparation for her spring sales.

In the last two years, Maclean has sold more than 5,000 native plants, she estimated. She’s given away hundreds more to those who can’t afford them.

Soon, Maclean plans to announce her newest initiative: the Briar Chapel Pollinator Pledge. She hopes to commit 10% of the neighborhood — 250 houses — to planting community gardens of native plants.

The difference she’s made is tangible, her neighbors said.

“What Jerilyn has done is educate so many neighbors like me who had the same mission and goals, we just didn’t know how to get there,” said Rhonda Jones, Maclean’s neighbor and member of the Briar Chapel Native Plant Club. “I probably have a hundred different species now… that I’ve bought from [Jerilyn]. I haven’t been back to a garden center in two years. And I see my little plot of land flourishing.” 

But Maclean doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to keep selling her plants. With four kids and her aging mother all living in Maclean’s house, the bills are piling up — and her plants can’t always pay them.

“I have a grand idea in my head,” Maclean said, her eyes glassy as she gazed toward the community garden behind her house. “But I don’t know how to get there.”

Maclean’s dream is to find an investor to back her work. If someone could fund salaries for a team of three to five people, Maclean said her team could give talks about native plants and work with local organizations to help them develop plans to make their land more sustainable.

“If we could report on what we’re doing around the Triangle, we’d have HOAs calling us and asking us to help save on their maintenance costs, help with runoff and erosion and help bring butterflies and bees and birds back to neighborhoods,” Maclean said.

“Plant by plant, yard by yard,” Maclean tells people. “They won’t go extinct unless we let them.”

Edited by Anna Neil and Noah Monroe

By Renata Schmidt

A coin spins in the air, casting a small shadow against the projected blues and reds behind it. Majed Al Munefi stands still and follows the coin with his eyes, but there is a confidence revealed in his smirk. The judge turns to Majed for a decision: does the team wish to argue pro or con?

Majed and his teammates Danah Younis, Saad Lahrichi and Zeinab Mukhtar are representing Duke University at the U.S. Arabic debating championship at Stanford University. By the coin flip, the team has competed in five rounds — each win pushing them closer to a spot in the international competition for the second time.

QatarDebate Center runs these debates. The organization was created in 2008 and sponsored by the former first lady of Qatar at the time — Sheikha Moza bint Nasser — according to the organization’s website.

The organization hosts events across the globe from Doha, Qatar to Davos, Switzerland. Last year, the Duke team placed eighth in the international championships held in Istanbul, Turkey.

An experienced leader

A large part of the team’s win was due to Majed’s training. The team captain has been debating in Arabic since eighth grade and was captain of Kuwait’s national debate team in 2021. 

Danah recalls her initial reaction to Majed’s dedication to the team, even before they made it to the international event.

“This kid is so intense,” she said. “I don’t know if he knows who he’s working with. I was like, I feel so bad, like I’m going to disappoint him.”

On the contrary, Majed’s no-nonsense approach to feedback — on top of the confidence he has in his teammates — has created team chemistry that is a mix of late-night talk show repartee and academic rigor.

“When I say something and don’t get to finish it, I know for a fact that Majed is gonna come up and finish what I said,” Danah attested. “And when Majed doesn’t get to something. I know that Saad is gonna come up and say what he didn’t finish.”

Familiar faces

The team’s first debate was scheduled for Saturday morning Oct. 15 against the Islamic University of Minnesota, and the four Duke teammates arrived at the Citrine Hotel at various points Friday night, with Danah being the last to arrive at 2 a.m. Despite the little sleep and the looming competition, she said there is a feeling of camaraderie amongst the participating teams.

“It’s not that I was scared that they would beat us. It’s that you know these people really well, and you don’t necessarily want to go against them and lose against them, or have them lose against you.”

Danah and her teammates have competed enough to recognize faces at competitions like these. She said the teams take over the hotel. 

Maha Houssami, an Arabic professor at Duke and the team’s coach, said the lobby was a place for coaches and judges to debrief.

‘A language that is alive’

The competition is a mix of university students, many of who are Arabs. Some of these competitors are native Arabic speakers — but not all, by any count.

Debaters need to have an intermediate command of Arabic, Danah explained, but your grammar and pronunciation don’t need to be perfect. It’s a speaker’s argument and logic that the judges grade.

“Arabic is a language that is alive,” Houssami said.

Arabic dialects range from regional, such as the Egyptian or Levantine dialect, to classical Arabic, which is used in the Quran. Modern Standard Arabic, also called Fusha, is a dialect somewhere in the middle of the register spectrum. It is used by news broadcasters, politicians, and student debaters.

The rounds are structured so each of the three debaters has seven minutes to speak, and can be interrupted by questions from the other team. After both teams have spoken, each team gets three uninterrupted minutes to make their final points.

Support from the sidelines

Duke alumni from the area came to watch the debate — a show of support unique to Duke despite being on the opposite coast, according to Houssami.

 Houssami said the alums grabbed the team coffee and Advil during their breaks. One alum, a friend of Danah, doesn’t speak Arabic so he couldn’t understand what was happening during the 45-minute rounds.

 She said, “He was just going off the vibes the whole time.” And the vibes were high as Duke beat Yale, securing their spot in the final round.

‘And in first place…’

 Once again, a coin spins in the air, casting a small shadow against the projected blues and reds behind it. Duke wins the toss.

 A few minutes later Majed huddles with his three other teammates backstage in Stanford University’s Dinkelspiel Auditorium. The wood planks and switchboards scattered backstage remind Danah of her middle school theater days, but instead of lines, she reads the motion to start the debate.

Danah isn’t confident in her pronunciation, so the team’s alternate, Zeinab, grabs the paper and begins underlining words in different colors under the dim lights.

On the other side of the curtain, the audience is filling up. Seven judges sit in front, some of their knees brushing the underside of the small wooden desks attached to the chairs, no larger than a dinner plate. The carpeted auditorium may have once been as cardinal red as the school that owns it, but now is a muddy burgundy. As the students file onto the stage, the light on them casts a deep shadow on their audience.

Since Duke won the coin flip, Danah takes to the podium first to read the motion. Above her in clear script is “جامعة ديوك” and “جامعة هرفارد”:

Duke University and Harvard University.

The topic for the final round is climate change, and Duke is arguing that countries should take action against countries that allow environmental abuses. 

An hour or so later, the four students are seated in the front row of the auditorium with the Harvard students directly behind them. The announcer says the vote was not unanimous, leaving Danah to wonder what that could mean for her team.

“And in first place…” the announcer says in Arabic as the audience begins drumming their hands on the rickety desks.

 “Of the U.S. Universities Arabic Debate championships…” he laughs, drawing out the suspense.

 “Duke University!”

 Danah turns to hug Zeinab before the rest of the team collides in a group hug. The Harvard students are on their feet as well.

 “I remember waiting and knowing that we won, but I don’t remember the buildup or him announcing it,” Danah said. “It’s a blur.”

 Edited by Jasmine Baker and Hannah Collett.

 

By Hannah Kaufman

The underground bar is teeming with people. Elbows brush up elbows. Beers slosh.

Students and adults alike attempt to squeeze just one more person—the last one, they swear—around their table.

The five wooden booths lined against the far wall are rivaled only by the high-rise tables, which, despite their small surface area, are covered with the arms, hands, pitchers and french fries of about 15 people per table.

No one says a thing about the claustrophobic atmosphere. It’s a Wednesday, after all.

Deep teal walls are hardly visible behind many pints of bold, crisp beer signs: “Budweiser: King of Beers.” “Samuel Adams.” “Yuengling.” “What’ll you have? Pabst Blue Ribbon COLD BEER.” “Bourbon Street.” And of course, the ivy-covered wooden plank that reads, in a delicate cursive font: “Linda’s.”

There’s a $1-off special tonight at Linda’s Bar and Grill, but that’s not the reason for the bustle.

Let the games begin

“Thank you for joining us tonight,” the steady announcer’s voice rang out through the clamor of shouts and laughter. “It’s now time to start Linda’s Wednesday trivia, as we do every Wednesday. The rules are up on the screen, make sure to tip all your lovely bartenders generously—and remember that the winner has the chance to win a $25 gift card.”

The voice belongs to Patrick Wiginton, a 29-year-old UNC-Chapel Hill alum. Patrick is of average height with a big straight-toothed smile and newly dyed blue hair. By day, he’s a remote data analyst at Cisco, but by night—Wednesday night, that is—he’s the star of his own show.

Patrick has been hosting trivia at Linda’s for 15 months, and he’s hardly missed a single Wednesday. He reignited a Chapel Hill tradition that had been lost to the isolating lull of Covid-19, a tradition that packs Linda’s basement bar, the Downbar, with up to 100 students, graduates and locals. And Patrick works for free.

“I’m just doing this for my own fun,” Patrick said.

What is … backstory

Unlike most trivia lovers, his trivia experience didn’t begin during college, but much earlier. At 12 years old, Patrick was an only child and avid reader. He and his mom began watching Jeopardy every night after dinner, competing fiercely to see how well they could do. One night, his mom proposed a challenge that she thought couldn’t be done: guessing the answer to the Final Jeopardy question based on the category alone.

“My mom thought it was impossible,” Patrick said. “I got it three times.”

At UNC-CH, he majored in public health and minored in biology. He met his roommate and best friend Aaron Gross sophomore year. By junior year, they were regulars at Linda’s. They befriended owner Chris Carini and cheerfully annoyed the waiters.

Patrick now lives 15 minutes from Chapel Hill but is often in town. He and Alya Butler, his girlfriend of two years, attend football games and occasionally stop by Franklin Street.

But two weekly traditions are set in stone: Linda’s on Wednesday nights for trivia and Sunday afternoons for what he and Aaron call “church day.”

Beers over bibles, right?

Spinning wheels of fortune

On the most recent church day, it was 3 p.m. and Love Island was playing on the TV. A few customers were mingling around but most of the noise was coming from the bar, where Alya, Patrick and Aaron were seated.

It was Halloween weekend and Aaron was wearing a cowboy hat with a red El Toro Tequila cap-turned-hat glued to the top. Patrick took a sip of his drink and looked up at a short-haired waitress inquisitively.

“Kirsten, when did you start hating me?” he called out.

“Must’ve been the first day I met you,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, day one,” he agreed.

The staff doesn’t actually hate him. In fact, Patrick’s seven years of friendship with Chris was what landed him his trivia job in the first place.

In 2020, the pandemic forced almost all of the restaurants in Chapel Hill to shut down operations. Linda’s was no exception, and with its loss of business came the loss of a 20-year tradition: trivia in the Downbar.

After things opened back up again, trivia wasn’t the same. Turnout was low and the previous trivia host couldn’t work Wednesday nights. Linda’s had taken a massive hit. But there through it all was Patrick, the ever-so-loyal regular.

“I’ve known Patrick for a very long time,” Chris said. “He’s hilarious, he’s got a really honest vibe about him. He’s just a sweet guy.”

Sitting at the bar one day, Chris mentioned offhandedly that he wanted to start up Wednesday trivia again. Patrick volunteered without a moment’s hesitation. He had never hosted before, but he liked bar trivia and had watched a lifetime of Jeopardy. Plus, he wanted to help Linda’s however he could.

“How hard could trivia be?” Patrick said.

Becoming Wednesday Guy

He refused Chris’ offer for payment, instead opting for a guarantee of free food and beer, and began learning the Downbar’s ropes. His first Wednesday trivia night was August 25, 2021. Only six or seven teams showed up, and while Patrick had prepared the proper amount of rounds and questions, he didn’t even have a working PowerPoint. That didn’t stop him from coming back the next Wednesday, though. And the following. And the following.

Now, it’s November 2022 and Patrick just finished announcing the answers to the Current Events round, which is always the first round. Next might be a wordplay round called Before and After or maybe Movie Title Math. Patrick suspects that the crowd is rooting for Musical Numbers, in which he plays the first 30 seconds of eight different songs and teams have to guess the song and artist’s name.

What the 20 teams in the Downbar don’t know is that each trivia night requires around three hours of preparation. During the actual game, Patrick is also required intense concentration in announcing every round, displaying the answers and reading out each team’s score and name.

(A few weeks ago, Aaron chose the team name: “Terrible Trivia Host Says What?”).

At last, around 10 p.m., the so-called Terrible Trivia Host reads out the final scores. One team shrieks with joy while the rest pat each other on the back disappointedly. The crowd files out, but not before shouting a thank-you to Patrick, who is standing in his corner, face flushed from the past two hours. Somehow, he still has the energy to smile and wave at his fans.

“It takes someone like Patrick to create that type of community around trivia culture,” Chris said.

While generally humble, Patrick sometimes jokes that his trivia nights are gaining him something akin to celebrity status around Chapel Hill. He isn’t far off. Last week, he was walking to a UNC game and stopped by the Student Stores to buy a hat. At checkout, the cashier took a long, hard look at him.

“Oh, I know you,” the cashier said. “Trivia.”

“Yeah,” Patrick replied. “I’m Wednesday Guy.”

Edited by Caleb Sigmon

By Meg Hardesty

When a celebrity dies, Kenny Krause receives a text message.

“It becomes a little bit morbid, because whenever someone dies, my first reaction is always like sad that they passed away,” his daughter, Katherine, laughed. “And my second thought is always – without fail – like I wonder if that is pumpkin worthy.”

His friends and neighbors in his Raleigh, North Carolina neighborhood nag him about his annual tradition.

“Good pumpkin.” 

“Oh, surely this will be the pumpkin.”

Kenny Krause is no artist. He neither draws nor paints. He doesn’t dabble in any other artistic medium except pumpkin.

Every Halloween, Kenny picks a celebrity who passed away in the previous year and carves his or her picture into a pumpkin. Neighbors and friends spend the year predicting and guessing whose face will be on the pumpkin come Oct. 31.

This year, a number of universally known celebrities died: Bob Saget, Olivia Newton John, Loretta Lynn and Queen Elizabeth II, to name a few.

Kenny’s pumpkin boils down to a choice; there can only be one.

So who will it be this year?

The magic behind it all

Each year on Oct. 31, Kenny sits in his sunroom with eye goggles on and a Dremel drill in hand. Elbows deep in it, he guts the pumpkin, ridding it of its pulp and seeds. His shaving and drilling are precise, and no surgeon could match his meticulous methods. 

From years of practice, he’s perfected his concoction of two-thirds water and one-third bleach that he soaks the pumpkin in. The bleach keeps it from rotting before the big reveal on Halloween. If one side is drooping, Kenny might add some shading for more support. But, it can’t be shaved down too thin or it will droop. It’s a race against time for Kenny.

He uses a computer software program to generate a pattern of the celebrity and reduces it down to three colors. When carved onto the surface, these three parts become pumpkin, shaved pumpkin or no pumpkin at all.

After years of perfecting his craft, Kenny knows what works and what doesn’t.

Selecting each year’s celebrity 

Kenny carved his first celebrity pumpkin when Johnny Cash died in 2003.

Kenny is an avid country-western fan, so he found a jack-o-lantern pattern for Johnny Cash “out in lonely internet land.”

In the following years, Kenny found patterns on the internet for Ray Charles, Johnny Carson, Steve Irwin and Luciano Pavarotti. All became pumpkin worthy, each in his respective year.

In Kenny’s opinion, no one of any prominence died in 2008, and there wasn’t a new pattern on the internet for him to use.

Creating the pattern for the celebrity’s face has become his biggest time consumer, making it an operation.

When Kenny selects the celebrity for a pumpkin, he believes the person has to span generations and interests.

“He’s a big baseball fan, and if somebody kind of obscure to the lay person dies – but it’s a real big baseball guy – I kind of have to talk him off the ledge going ‘nobody is going to know who that is,’” his wife, Leigh, said. “I mean he did do Ernie Banks one year. Ernie Banks is not just your normal baseball character.”

He stays away from politicians and suicides, although he did make an exception for Robin Williams in 2014. He avoids anything controversial or divisive, and often takes input from his daughters, Eliza and Katherine. But, he doesn’t always take their advice.

“When Amy Winehouse died – and I’m a big Amy Winehouse fan – I was so upset that she wasn’t the pumpkin,” Katherine said. “I remember being so upset at the time because that was my suggestion, and he didn’t take it.”

Amy Winehouse died in 2011; Elizabeth Taylor beat her for the pumpkin.

A neighborly affair

Neighbors and friends can suggest, plead and text all they want to. However, Kenny usually keeps it a secret until the reveal on Halloween night.

“I would always try and creep by the sunroom, and he would put things up so that I couldn’t see,” Katherine said. “Our neighbors would always ask us and try and get it out of us, but joke was on them because we didn’t know either, so it was kind of funny.”

Part of the spectacle of Kenny’s annual pumpkin is the secrecy; it’s all part of the fun. Katherine even suspects Kenny gets paranoid sometimes and carves from their basement.

Karen Rindge, Kenny’s former next-door neighbor, said she’s already heard who the pumpkin is this year.

“I told my husband, ‘Ooh, I got the word! I already know who it’s going to be!’” Karen laughed, admitting that there is a sneak peak some years. “Sometimes, I think since we were next-door neighbors, he couldn’t help himself, and he had to let somebody know.”

For each pumpkin, Kenny tries to find music to correspond with the person’s life.

When Michael Jackson died, he played “Thriller.” When Andy Griffith died, he played the Andy Griffith theme song. Neighbors anticipate whom they’re going to see on the pumpkin when they hear the music.

“I’ll always listen for the music,” his neighbor, Molly Simmons, said. “The year that Florence Henderson died, I was sitting over here and I could hear the Brady Bunch theme and I was like ‘Oh Lord he did Florence Henderson.’”

When Pavarotti died, opera music played all night long, accompanying the trick-or-treaters on Kenny’s doorstep.

“If you walk by our house on the street and you hear opera music on Halloween and you don’t know the tradition, you might be a little bit confused,” Katherine said “But, it pulls you in, I guess.”

Kenny has built a reputation and community around his pumpkins, bringing a lighthearted, fun and innocent occasion to the University Park neighborhood each year. 

 “They were always the neighborhood house where everybody gathered, and the pumpkin was the draw because everyone wanted to see the pumpkin,” Molly said.

Kenny and Leigh tag-team the celebration each year. Leigh prepares Brunswick stew and ham biscuits for their guests each year and hands out candy. Kenny serves beer and wine for adults and takes care of the pumpkin.

“I remember Halloween as getting home from school and we’re folding napkins, we’re getting soup ready, we’re working on the crockpot, Dad’s downstairs.” Katherine said. “It’s a whole production for sure.” 

Friends and family look forward to it. Kenny sends a picture of the pumpkin to his mother in Wisconsin, and she sends it out to more friends. Leigh sends it out to her father and his 88-year-old friends. Work friends in Wilmington and old high school friends text to ask about it. Even the head of Krispy Kreme texts Leigh each year asking who will be on the pumpkin.

“I get fussed at if I don’t get it on Facebook pretty early into the evening. I’m like, ‘Excuse me, I’m handing out candy,’” Leigh laughed.

To say it’s far-reaching sounds silly, but Kenny has added delight and tradition to his community for many years to come.

2022’s grand reveal

An animated Headless Harry stands to the left of the yard, removing its bloody head over and over. A blow-up coffin sits in the grass filled with beer and wine. Full-sized Snickers, Reese’s and Hershey bars lie on a fold out table next to the pumpkin. A British band plays over the speaker.

Kenny removes the tarp and lights a candle inside the pumpkin. Oohs and aahs fill the front yard.

None other than Queen Elizabeth II shines through the twinkle of the pumpkin.

God save the Queen. And the pumpkin.

Edited by Jane Durden and Mackenzie Frank

By Harrison Clark

CJ Zavada and his fellow UNC-Chapel Hill teammates mobbed the court, jumping with joy; they finally did it.

After falling short in the college national semifinals, the Tar Heels finished the season with a U.S. Open championship against the San Francisco CalHeat, a team they had lost to in pool play. “Sweet Caroline” blared through the Adrian College speakers and the tightly knit squad sang their hearts out together. The final score read 25-17.

No, this wasn’t a basketball game. Or a soccer game. Or a volleyball game. It’s handball – a sport Zavada has come to love and hopes to grow.

The “natural”

Growing up in Windermere, Florida, Zavada played a plethora of sports but fell in love with the game of basketball. He always played up an age group, taking on older kids in both Upward Sports church leagues and AAU circuits. He had natural athleticism, allowing him to be successful in nearly every sport he played.

“He gets it from his mom,” Zavada’s father, Jay Zavada, said with a big laugh. Zavada’s mother, Yvonne, played collegiate basketball at Transylvania University, a Division-III school in Kentucky.

Known for his pesky defensive plays and quickness, college coaches gathered to watch Zavada play for Windermere High School. Zavada embraced defending the other team’s best players while also running the show as point guard — strategically calling and making plays. By the time high school ended, he accepted an offer to play at Gettysburg College, following in Yvonne’s footsteps of playing college hoops.  

As he entered college, two senior guards would graduate in front of him and loads of playing time would come his way, potentially even a starting spot. However, after spending his freshman year fighting for minutes on the court, Zavada decided to make a change. 

“It was a mix of feeling content with the sport I played my whole life and that I had reached a point where it is okay to hang up the shoes now,” Zavada said.

With a plan of pursuing dentistry, Zavada transferred to UNC in the fall of 2020.

Branching out

Due to COVID-19, Zavada’s first year at UNC was dominated by social distancing and a lack of gym facilities available for use. Desiring to “scratch the athletic itch,” Zavada randomly searched if UNC had a handball team. 

Before college, Zavada had only been exposed to handball once. As a seventh grader, Zavada’s eyes grazed a Team USA handball poster at a pizza place at Auburn University — he thought the sport looked awesome. He was impressed by the size of the players and it reminded him of “speedball,” a similar-looking game he played in middle school. Yet, the memory never recycled back through his mind.

While browsing UNC’s social site Heel Life, Zavada recognized the handball contact, Alex Irmscher, who attended Zavada’s rival high school in Florida along with having some mutual friends between them.

After reaching out, Irmscher invited Zavada to his house and made homemade chili. The rest of the night, Irmscher described some of the handball rules. 

Three steps, not two.

Dribble it like a 1920s NBA player with your hand on top of the ball.

Positions are like soccer but on an indoor court longer and wider than a basketball court.

Substitutions on the fly like ice hockey.

Goals can only be scored by throwing it in the net only from behind the big arc.

Zavada was playing with a “steep learning curve” while initially starting handball. Yet, he loved it.

With Zavada’s natural athleticism and his experience in various sports, he got the hang of the rules within a couple of weeks of practice, faster than most when first taking up handball.

And, he got to be quite good at it.

“People would tell me, ‘Wow, I do not understand how you are getting it this fast,’” Zavada said. “There are still people on the squad who have played much longer than I have who do not know all of the rules.”

After restrictions were lifted, Zavada played his first match for UNC in Fetzer Gym against the New York Athletic Club, a team featuring primarily grown adults who have played for years and are often respected as one of the best teams in the country. Due to the lack of many collegiate handball teams, UNC often plays semi-pro clubs such as NYAC.

“They had some guys in the middle who were around 6’4” and 260 pounds,” Zavada said. “It was intimidating, super physical, trash-talking the whole game. I absolutely loved it. 

In addition, Zavada scored seven goals in that game.

Moving forward

While falling in love with handball, Zavada came to a crossroads academically, where he rethought his original path of dentistry.

Zavada hated shadowing. He hated his science classes. He was not looking forward to completing his residency and potentially being poor for six years before hopefully owning a practice, which would likely lead to debt. So, he switched to business.

Fully focused on handball and his business major, The American Handball Company peaked both interests. After the company organized a well-run U.S. Open tournament in Detroit, Zavada reached out to the company to intern and share his visions for the sport.

In Europe and South America, handball is the second most popular sport following soccer. Yet in the United States, many people are unaware of what handball even is.

It bothered Zavada that only a few college programs have handball teams, along with the fact that young kids in the United States are not taught handball like in Europe or Latin America. 

Zavada wants a real league of professional handball teams, something that is long-lasting like the NHL or the NBA. He feels that down the road The American Handball Company could foster a new league and create excitement surrounding handball in the States.

“There is no NBA of handball,” Zavada said. “The UFC, the National Lacrosse League, they were nothing at one point. But if you can help grow it and build it up, that would be something really special.” 

 Zavada would not rule out the possibility of playing handball overseas one day, with the skill and exposure levels being far higher in Europe and South America. Thus, the chance to get trained by elite coaches and potentially breakthrough untapped potential is an enticing prospect. 

Zavada’s ultimate dream is to represent the United States handball team in the Olympic Games. While it seems more unlikely than likely due to the United States not qualifying for the next Games in Paris, the dream remains.

“It would just be cool to play for the U.S. in the Olympics,” Zavada said. “That would be why I would not mind playing in Europe.”

For now, he is focused on his senior season and carrying out his visions for the sport.

 

Edited by Macon Porterfield and Ryan Mills

By Sara Raja

It was Elizabeth Gardner’s birthday, but she didn’t feel like celebrating. She was an attorney and had court in the morning. Her friend, however, was insisting they go out.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” her friend said. “Tell me where you wanna go, and we’ll go.”

Gardner was starting to give in, but she didn’t want to go to a traditional bar.

“I really can’t stomach looking at any more broken lives [having] a celebration moment,” she said.

She typed “bar alternatives” into Google and Purple Lotus Kava Bar popped up. So, they went.

The bartender explained to them how tea made from the root of the kava plant could have relaxing and euphoric effects. 

Even more than the tea, Gardner was impressed by the sense of community in the bar. 

“All the people knew each other by their first name,” she said. “And they were all talking to me, welcoming me, explaining what it’s about to me.”

Eleven years later, Gardner owns Krave, a Kava Bar and Tea Lounge, with three locations in North Carolina. 

Her life’s goal has always been to combat drug addiction. 

She used to do it as an attorney in Florida, but now she does it by providing a drug-free space where people can find community.

Gardner quickly became a regular at Purple Lotus and eventually became the owner’s lawyer. 

When she received her inheritance, she moved back to North Carolina with the goal of opening a kava bar.

Breaking out of her shell 

As a child, Gardner said she was shy — a wallflower even.

She’s also a Hillsborough, North Carolina native whose grandparents worked in the textile mills. 

She attended UNC-Chapel Hill in the 1980s and was a member of Sigma Sigma Sigma sorority. 

Although she was a reserved college student, Gardner was appointed social chair of the sorority. 

Suddenly, she was meeting with fraternity brothers and organizing mixers. That time was pivotal in her life.

“It forced me to be me, and I’m so grateful for that experience,” she said. “It’s the discomfort in life that has led to my biggest growth.”

In college, Gardner wasn’t sure what career path she wanted to pursue and she sat down with a friend to pour over the list of majors at UNC-CH. 

Together, they envisioned the type of career that would come with each.

She settled on law and enrolled in a prep class.

“I thought ‘If it’s meant to be, it’s going to happen,’” she said. “Gonna throw the spaghetti on the wall, see what sticks.”

Law stuck. She went on to attend law school in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, eventually becoming a defense attorney. 

Her goal was to combat drug addiction by using the power of the court and improving the rehabilitation process.

For Gardner, addiction hits home

Gardner has an older cousin who still struggles with addiction. He has to rely on his mother, because he isn’t able to be independent.

A lot of other people in her family deal with addiction as well — with many of them becoming addicted after being prescribed opiates by a doctor. 

Gardner realized the problem was all around her. Most people were using prescription or illegal drugs, or at least drinking alcohol.

“Everything’s designed around it,” she said. “If you celebrate, you drink. If you are having a bad day, drink. You don’t realize that over time it’s killing your liver.”

She often represented clients struggling with addiction who got in trouble with the law. She hoped to use the court system as a way to help people turn around their lives. 

“You can force them to look at another way, and in their sober mind, they might choose to use that to make a better life,” she said.

She remembers spending a Thanksgiving sitting in jail with a woman, who was a prostitute that used drugs.

One person walked in to thank Gardner for sitting with the woman. “To me, [that] was worth all the other hundreds of people that I never saw again,” she said. 

She loved being a lawyer, from the thrill of the jury being seated to the trial beginning. 

But she didn’t enjoy the administrative work of running her own practice. So, when she received her inheritance, she set her sights on returning to her home state. 

By now she had met her husband, Joshua Pardue. They were introduced at a live-action role-playing vampire event.

She spotted him across the room and asked her friends who he was. 

Building a community of love

In 2015, they moved to North Carolina together to open the Carrboro location of Krave.

The building is on Main Street. When you walk into the dimly lit front room, you’ll see patrons chatting at the bar while the bartender serves a range of kava and kratom teas. 

Pieces of art, many of them created by patrons of the bar, cover the walls. 

In the back room, there are comfortable places to sit and calming, somewhat psychedelic images are projected onto one wall. 

A mural of a purple lotus on the opposite wall is a nod to the place Gardner first discovered kava. 

The bar staff welcomes anyone who walks in, ready to explain the effects of kava tea. 

A variety of people can be found at Krave. 

Gardner said the bar tends to attract creative types of all ages. Some patrons have struggled with addiction in the past and use kava as an alternative to drugs or alcohol. 

Arod Rodriguez is one example. He said kava helped him quit using drugs. Rodriguez met Gardner at Purple Lotus back in Florida. 

Now, she is like a sister to him. 

Gardner helped him through a breakup and he ended up moving to North Carolina to work in one of her bars. 

He described her as the type of person to take the shirt off her back to help keep someone warm.

“There isn’t one wall she can’t climb or can’t encourage you to climb,” he said. “She’ll encourage you to overcome anything.”

Gardner is proud of the communities that form at her bars. Some patrons have been coming for years.

When something happens to a member of the community, such as a drug or alcohol relapse, everyone is deeply affected.

“I’ve seen people get jobs, spouses, roommates,” she said. “It’s a nice network of support.”

Jordan Browning has been a bartender at Krave’s Carrboro location since 2018. He said Gardner makes an effort to cultivate community in the bar.

“I’ve always seen Liz as someone that a lot of folks… have who’s good to talk to,” he said.

Since 2015, Gardner has opened two more Krave locations in Greensboro and Raleigh. 

The Raleigh location opened just a few weeks ago with a big celebration featuring DJs and Hawaiian dancers.

Gardner was excited to finally open the new location and pleased with the large turnout at the celebration.

She said she’s an example of why people should never judge others by their circumstances. 

“I’ve heard a lot of people say ‘Who would have ever thought you would have been a lawyer?’” Gardner said. “Maybe it’s because I’m from West Hillsborough, or maybe it’s because my family worked in the mills, or maybe it’s because I’m shy.”

“But don’t ever discount the underdog. We have a lot to offer the world,” she said.

Editing by Brianna Atkinson and Brooke Dougherty

 

By J Banzet

The night before the 2022 Atlantic Coast Collegiate Hockey League tournament, color analyst Charles Crowell called his best friend and broadcast partner, Graham Tuck, to make sure everything was squared away.

The mid-February tournament was being played in Winston-Salem, N.C., and the two were the on-air talent broadcasting all 10 games. The tournament brought together the best college club hockey teams in the mid-Atlantic to determine its champion.

Everything needed to be perfect.

“Don’t forget any of the mics, and bring that sparkly suit,” Crowell told Tuck.

“Bro,” Tuck said. “I got it. Trust me.”

The next morning, Tuck, a junior at High Point University, wore the sparkly suit that matched his school’s colors, purple and black. His long brown hair — or “lettuce” as they say in the hockey world — flowed 2 inches past his collar and was pushed behind his ears when it was time to put on his headset. A black button-down shirt, purple tie and black pants finished the look. But the outfit’s signature piece was on his feet: a pair of glittery purple loafers matched his jacket to a tee.

Tuck arrived at the rink for Friday morning’s quarterfinals two hours before the first puck drop to set up all of the equipment on his own. Five cameras needed to be turned on and plugged in, so Tuck walked throughout the arena and meticulously checked each one. 

It’s not that he didn’t trust his color analyst Brian Coleman or director Tyler Cohen to do the job, it’s just that Tuck is a perfectionist — especially when it comes to his work.

“He cares about every little detail,” Coleman said. “It’s a little intimidating at first if I’m being honest with you.”

‘He’s got it all’

Tuck’s talent on-air shines more than each plastic sparkle on his suit. During the first three months of his freshman year, Tuck exceeded expectations so much that the league offered him a four-year contract to broadcast the conference tournament — before his first season at High Point had ended.

Though hockey isn’t nearly as big in North Carolina as it is up north, Tuck’s passion and skill level rivals broadcast voices from the sport’s hot beds (Toronto, Boston and New York) and even opposing teams are taking notice.

“He’s the only really good college broadcaster I’ve heard,” said UNC hockey forward Cole Kusowski. “Knowledge of the game, passion for the calls, simplicity for everyone to understand: he’s got it all.”

Tuck started broadcasting ice hockey games as a junior at Atkins High School in Winston-Salem for the local Carolina Thunderbirds, running the team’s social media during a championship season in 2018-19. He’s since founded Tuck Broadcasting LLC to take his voice to another level in the realms of hockey and baseball.

Barista by day, announcer by night

Tuck’s perfection stems from necessity.

His mom works for the local public school system and his dad referees high school football and lacrosse. And with two younger siblings still at home, Tuck funds his entire college experience. He earned a four-year sports broadcasting scholarship as part of HPU’s Communication Fellows Program, on top of having financial aid through FAFSA and another general university scholarship to cut costs.

Still, High Point’s roughly $58,000 price per year isn’t cheap, so calling games on contract helps him get close to breaking even.

And so does baristaing at Starbucks at 5:30 a.m. at the local Harris Teeter three mornings each week. 

“I’ve worked at Dairio, Brothers Cluckers, and now Starbucks because I have to,” Tuck laughed. 

In high school, Tuck never excelled at any sport, but he followed every major league like a part-time job. When his final baseball season ended in April 2019, Tuck put together his first broadcast reel in his living room on his iPhone 6’s “Voice Memos” app, commentating for a 7 p.m. Carolina Hurricanes and Washington Capitals matchup. 

He called the game into his headset at the same time as John Forslund and Tripp Tracy did for Fox Sports Southeast, narrating every explosive play. 

“Aho to Teravainen, drops it for Hamilton. Shoots, scores!”

Tuck has three semesters left at High Point and is under contract to call the school’s hockey games and HPU’s conference tournament every February. Just last week, Winston-Salem’s Carolina Thunderbirds offered him a full-time play-by-play role. However, Tuck turned them down to honor his High Point obligations. 

“I wanted it so badly but just couldn’t make it work,” Tuck said. “My time will come.”

Yes it will. Because the sparkly suit-wearing Starbucks barista has “got it all.”

He’s just that good.

Edited by Clay Morris and Kaitlyn Schmidt

By Audrey Selley

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Bruce Tucker laughs as he scrubs dirt off the windshield of a Mazda3 sedan. His older brother Tom laughs back from the other side of the car where he meticulously sprays and wipes the windows like he’s polishing a trophy. 

It’s a Wednesday close to closing time at Carolina Car Wash And Detail in Carrboro, which sits right on the corner of Brewer Lane and East Main Street. Alongside the co-managers, Bruce and Tom, is the usual team of employees, including Chello Hernandez. Hernandez has been working at the car wash for 15 years, exactly the age of her daughter, Donna, who comes back from school just as the sedan is engulfed by the mechanical scrubber cylinders.

Donna greeted Bruce and Tom’s 85-year-old mother, Willey D. Tucker, behind the register just as Bruce walked into the lobby. 

“Donna! How was your quinceañera?” Bruce asked.

To Bruce, his employees are extended family. He’s lived with them through their ups and downs. He has watched as their kids grew up and learned how to ride a bike, and even as they got their first job— which, for a few of them, was at the car wash itself.  

However, it’s not exactly like Bruce needs more family in his life. He grew up with 11 siblings on the west side of Chicago with his mom. Although they had just enough money to keep the lights on, it was a golden childhood. It was one where school clothes were immediately changed into play clothes when they came home. 

They would play cops and robbers, tag and kickball until dark, waiting just long enough until their mother would whoop their butts for not being home by dinner. On weekends, they’d all squeeze into a station wagon and visit their grandparents, who also lived in Chicago.  

“Those were the good old days,” Bruce said. “Some people can’t imagine having 11 siblings, but it was one of the most beautiful experiences I could imagine.” 

Carolina Car Wash and Detail

When a 25-year-old Tom bought Carolina Car Wash and Detail in 1997 and called Bruce, 23, to ask him to help with the business, Bruce didn’t want to. He was living his best life, constantly traveling as a project engineer for the United States Postal Service and golfing on his days off. 

Three weeks later, he was in Carrboro learning how to put on a proper coat of Chemical Guys Extreme Bodywash & Wax— family is family. Even though he would curse out his siblings in a heartbeat, he would even more quickly uproot his life for them. 

“It was so hard to sacrifice that; I was at the peak of my career. But Tom needed someone to help out, and I was one of the only siblings who could,” Bruce said.  

Tom’s purchase of Carolina Car Wash and Detail coincides with his founding of Peregrine 9, a real estate development company based in North Carolina. As Tom began working towards his goals of expanding throughout the southeastern United States, Bruce stepped up as co-manager of the car wash to handle the day-to-day operations.

Family Ties

But beyond the real estate incentive, Tom bought the business to give his mother a job where she didn’t have to stand all the time. Despite the gentle urging of Tom and Bruce for her to take some time off, 25 years later, she still greets customers behind the register every day.

Their mother has always supported her children. Throughout their childhood, she somehow managed to keep all 12 of her kids busy with museum trips, summer camps and sports teams.

“She’s always been our biggest fan; she would do anything for us,” Tom said.  

Working with his mom every day is his favorite part, but only as long as he remembers she will always be the boss, he said laughing.

In fact, Bruce not-so-jokingly jokes that their faithful customer base is because of Willey D. Her smile would make the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes. Her motherly advice has calmed generations of UNC-Chapel Hill students, and her impressively deep breadth of sports knowledge has engaged customers like former UNC-CH men’s basketball coach Dean Smith and current coach Hubert Davis.

“We actually thought about getting her picture on the side of a city bus because there are so many people that know her,” Bruce said.

Community Connections

The brothers also believe that they have an opportunity and responsibility to impact the community around them. Tom served as the president of the Chapel Hill Downtown Partnership, which advocates for policies and projects to support businesses. In addition, Tom serves on the Northside Neighborhood Conservation District Advisory, which was created in response to the increasing gentrification in the historically Black Northside neighborhood in Chapel Hill. 

In terms of their business philosophy, the brothers aren’t trying to squeeze every cent out of their customers. They would rather spend their time providing quality service and ensuring the happiness of their customers, Tom said. 

Their upbringing taught them that it’s not about having all the money in the world. Bruce said at the end of the day, they want to focus on what’s most important, cultivating relationships with their customers.

He will surprise customers with a free car wash if they are having a particularly bad day and gives away complimentary car washes to local schools and charities as well. Beyond the car wash, Bruce loves engaging with the customers and swapping life stories. 

“If we send customers out of here with that warm and fuzzy feeling, and they feel good about everything that happened,” said Bruce. “I’m just convinced that that’s going to replicate itself, and it’s gonna repeat and pay itself forward.”

To Bruce, a successful business only means one thing:

“Our family is growing.”

Edited by Chloe Teachey and Collin Tadlock