This must be the place: 'Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, he sounds too blue to fly'

Hello from Room 510 at the Delta Hotel. The nonstop hustle and bustle of Interstate 81 just outside the window in Bristol, Virginia. For the last few days, I’ve been up here covering the Bristol Rhythm & Roots Reunion, one of the largest and most beloved festivals within Americana, bluegrass and country music circles. 

This must be the place: 'The time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining'

Stepping out of my apartment building in downtown Waynesville on Wednesday morning, I noticed several American flags lining Walnut Street, put there by the town’s public works department. Cruising along Main Street, the flag was at half-mast at the bank and also in front of the Haywood County Courthouse. 

This must be the place: ‘There’s an eagle and he keeps on flying, over the mountains capped in white snow’

Hello from Cabin 156 at Tryon International, the massive equestrian center and event facility along U.S. 74, just down the mountain from Saluda. The mountains in the distance remind me of the beauty of my home that is Western North Carolina.

This must be the place: ‘In the woods from far away, from across the fields and pastures, in the cool misty morning air’

Hello from atop the roof of my parents’ 1840 brick farmhouse. Some 20 feet up on the back end of the structure. It’s hot as hell walking across the old roof in the midday sunshine and heat of early summer in the Champlain Valley of Upstate New York. 

This must be the place: ‘Oh to live on Sugar Mountain, with the barkers and colored balloons’

Hello from the Merritt Parkway in south-central Connecticut. It’s bumper-to-bumper traffic and has been since we skirted New York City and headed east. Exit 60 is Hamden, Connecticut, a town that I called home during my years attending Quinnpiac University. 

This must be the place: Ode to this newspaper, ode to a quarter century

It was just about 12 years ago when I first rolled into Waynesville. After a solo 18-hour, 1,000-mile trek from my native Upstate New York to Western North Carolina, I found myself sitting in an office chair awaiting an in-person interview with Smoky Mountain News publisher/founder Scott McLeod. 

This must be the place: ‘Running to lose the blues, to the innocence in here’

Hello from the writing desk in my humble abode apartment in downtown Waynesville. It’s warm and sunny outside on this Monday afternoon amid Memorial Day Weekend. I’ve just returned from a 2,678-mile out and back trip to the North Country.  

This must be the place: ‘Of freedom and of pleasure, nothing lasts forever’

It was nearing midnight when my mother finally beat my father, my girlfriend, Sarah, and I at cards, rummy being the game of choice and of tradition in my parents’ household. Most of the snacks had been consumed and I was halfway through a lukewarm Labatt Blue Light when she placed her last card on the pile to claim victory. 

Carry the music: One World Brewing welcomes Annie in the Water

Within the greater Upstate New York live music scene, there’s a vast landscape of ebbs and flows — peaks and valleys of sonic textures, weaving effortlessly from rock to soul, funk to folk and back again. 

This must be the place: ‘To laugh at the impossibilities which are here always after we are not’

Saturday. Late morning. The Waynesville apartment was quiet save the occasional motorcycle roaring along nearby Russ Avenue. My girlfriend had already gotten up and was at work by 10 a.m. I slept in a little bit, though my restless soul wouldn’t let the day fade.

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