My biography

Introducing Kim McKinney

I’m so happy to know you

I’m Kim McKinney, from a small city north of Charlotte, North Carolina, called Statesville. I lived here through all of my school years and moved back about 20 years ago. The company I worked for had sold the business for their North Carolina offices, and I had to make the decision to get moved to another market where the company did business, or find another job.

I’m the rare single-never-been-married. It’s for no particular reason — I haven’t been against marriage necessarily, and always thought it was in the cards — but I also haven’t found that available smart man with a kind but sarcastic sense of humor who makes my life more fun being married than being single.

I also don’t have children, thus the move back to my hometown. My two brothers and two sisters have shared their children with me, so I spent years going to football, baseball, and softball games, talent shows, and beauty pageants, and getting roped into things like chaperoning and working concession stands. I love being an aunt and think perhaps I enjoy it more than I would have enjoyed being a mother. I got to experience many of their firsts with them. Ready for your first concert? Aunt Kim will take you!

I have eleven nieces and nephews and six great-nieces and nephews who are still living. I lost a great-nephew to suicide four years ago when he was 17. Our family will never be the same because of that night, and we both mourn him and celebrate his life every day.

My dad died at the end of that year (2016), adding another void to my life. My parents met in Wales during the last days of his time in the U.S. Air Force in the late ’50s. Their first date was in a cemetery, they were engaged on their third date, and they had one more date before Dad was shipped home (despite his efforts to stay). Mom dropped out of nursing school, packed her stuff, and left everything to marry this virtual stranger on her 19th birthday at my grandparent’s house in Statesville. Only mom, dad, my grandparents, the pastor, and his wife were in attendance. No pictures, no wedding cake. They rushed the ceremony to have it done by time the younger of my dad’s ten siblings came home from school. (Oh, and Mom would advise if you ever do get married, take pictures, and do not do it on your birthday. The rest worked out well.)

Mom and Dad moved to Massachusetts, where Dad worked during the day and got an engineering degree at Northeastern University at night. He ended up with a crazy high grade point average, which his daughter with ADD never tried to replicate.

Four of us were born in Massachusetts and the youngest back in Statesville. Dad worked for the space program in Huntsville, AL, for a year after college. When he got his boss’s job, he took it as a sign that the space program probably wasn’t a stable place for a guy to work and raise four kids (not even knowing there would eventually be five of us.) I get my analytical side from my dad. He decided to work with his dad and brothers in a family business and moved us back to North Carolina, just in time for me to begin first grade.

Mom was a stay-at-home mom until my youngest brother was born. She decided a career taking care of sick people was better than staying home with five kids. We tell my youngest brother she was avoiding him. He got more attention between his doting siblings and the daycare staff, so he doesn’t seem too traumatized.

I’m the rare one who loved high school. I thought everyone loved it. I learned years later than it was only my best friend and I (who I met at age nine and is still in my life.) Everyone else was going through teenage angst and worrying about things like whether they were in the popular crowd. I didn’t even know there was a popular crowd, and only found out when helping to plan my 25th reunion when someone told me I was not in it — something to do with not being involved with sports and cheerleading.

North Carolina is basketball country (I know some of you are under the illusion that your state is, but we’ll just let you think it. It’s like the popular crowd thing, reversed.) I was a huge N.C. State fan until my senior year in high school when I realized that I was going to have to go to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill for my Broadcast Journalism major. I only applied there, believing that any school would be privileged to have me. Seriously it never occurred to me that getting into college was competitive, and I may get turned down. The application fee was $25 back then, and that was steep! So I applied to that one school and never did understand why some of my friends were concerned about whether we would get in. Thankfully UNC accepted me, and my innocence could continue, though I would be a Tar Heel for life.

After college, I had a difficult time getting the reporting job I wanted. I looked about 12, and even makeup couldn’t give me authority and sophistication. I decided to work as a house parent in a children’s home for a year. That grew me up fast. I was 21–22 and though hired to work with girls, ended up mostly working with boys 14–17. It turns out you can threaten me with violence, and it doesn’t phase me, but if I know you are lying to me and I can’t prove it, I go a bit crazy. So the administration eventually gave in to my requests to work with the boys.

Stuck in the mountains with teenagers at that age is not something I necessarily recommend. Though job-wise, it was one of the best fits ever for my temperament. I adored the kids, though putting troubled teenagers together is probably not the best arrangement before you release them out into the world as adults.

My best friend was paying claims at an insurance company, and I came off the mountain to move close to her after she got me a job there. I thought I would work there a year and then move back to broadcast when I had aged a bit. That never happened. I’ve been involved in insurance, specifically employee benefits, ever since. I have enjoyed it, though I am currently unemployed after my office closed. Since most of my friends got displaced at one time or another, so it wasn’t a concern. I miss working, though after working since I was young, it hasn’t been as traumatic as it would be for some. Still, not being able to find a comparable job has been shocking to me. I guess age does matter.

I’m relatively easy-going unless it’s a matter of justice or incorrect info displayed as facts. Or if someone is misusing your and you’re. I’m an idealist and am always amazed when I discover (again) everyone doesn’t care about doing what is “right.”

In my spare time, I love to read and listen to podcasts, I enjoy live music (my town has an incredible amount of talent that has sprung from our bluegrass roots), and I love to travel to experience new adventures and cultures.

I also chase hot air balloons and am part of that small but active community. My town has one of the few hot air balloon factories, so a lot of balloonists have settled here or fallen into the sport because of its prevalence. If you see a triangular-shaped hot air balloon basket, it was probably made here. I’m also involved in our hot air balloon festival, the oldest in the U.S., other than Albuquerque.

As for the writing, I have always loved it but stopped after college until I started blogging in 2012. Two friends had read some things I wrote on Facebook, and both had serious talks with me the same week, encouraging me to write more. They didn’t know each other and were not from the same country. When a balloonist friend is killed in an accident shortly after this, I started blogging to try to sort out my feelings about it. It’s been my therapy ever since.

Is this the longest bio? Since I typically don’t write (or read) long pieces, there would be a certain amount of humor and irony if that was the case.

But if you have made it this far, thank you. The writing community here has given me much joy and knowledge, and I appreciate the opportunity to read your work. I am grateful that some of you choose to read mine. I especially appreciate those of you who have made me a better writer. Your free sharing of information and encouragement, and even letting me know when I have made a typo, is something to celebrate.