This must be the place: ‘Set the gearshift for the high gear of your soul’
The time had come.
Last Friday, right around noon, I received a message on Facebook. It was a fella looking to purchase my old pickup truck. Though the engine had died in October, the beloved truck itself was still sitting in front of my apartment in Waynesville. Partly due to my longtime and sentimental history with the vehicle, partly, due to the mere fact nobody had shown any interest (yet) in taking it off my hands.
This must be the place: ‘You know I’m such a fool for you’
They said it happens.
When I was younger, and very much so in conversation nowadays, it was always said that as you get older, you tend to circle back to the music of your youth.
This must be the place: ‘It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe’
So, what do you make of it all?
This must be the place: ‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot…’
Nobody ever seems to know.
New Year’s Eve is the same day every go around, and yet, why is it nobody pulls the trigger on party plans until the last minute? Year after year, I find myself in this predicament, where I ask all month what everybody is up to for the ball drop. One-by-one they shrug their shoulders without a clue.
This must be the place: ‘Keep on rolling, my old buddy…’
Once the roads became sketchy, I became familiar with the territory.
This must be the place: ‘Life being what it is…’
Ten years ago this week I left my native Upstate New York for my first journalism gig out of college in the tiny mountain town of Driggs, Idaho.
This must be the place: ‘I have been all over but I can’t help feeling stuck…’
The crunching kept catching my attention.
After finding a scarce parking space, it was a short, careful stroll from the Montford neighborhood of downtown Asheville to the U.S. Cellular Center for the 29th annual Christmas Jam last Saturday evening.
This must be the place: ‘I been a workin’ man dang near all my life…’
“I think not having the estate tax recognizes the people that are investing. As opposed to those that are just spending every darn penny they have, whether it’s on booze or women or movies.”
— Sen. Charles E. Grassley (R-Iowa)
This must be the place: Pass the gravy, and the memories
It was right around the second beer when I began to settle in.
The warm sunshine and lingering foliage of metropolitan Charlotte was in stark contrast to the chilly air and empty trees of the mountains of Western North Carolina. But, with my aunt and cousin within arm’s reach, and my girlfriend beside me, I immersed myself into the Thanksgiving gathering last week.
This must be the place: ‘Two all-beef patties, special sauce…’
That slow walk from the car.
When I was 16 years old, I entered the American workforce. I was the breakfast and lunch cook for McDonald’s in Champlain, New York. And it was that slow walk from my rusted out 1989 Toyota Camry to the side entrance under the bright yellow arches, into another morning and early afternoon amid the chaos of the fast food world.
