Even before the lights went down and the curtain went up, one thing was already clear: this wasn’t going to be easy.

A daunting job had been laid in the laps of the audience at the annual Haywood’s Got Talent competition last Saturday night in Waynesville. The audience — collectively — held the swing vote in which of the dozen performers would take home the gold.

I credit my older sister with teaching me many of life’s important lessons. Like not wearing white heels after Labor Day, or not mixing gold earrings with a silver necklace.

He slinked by, turned and glanced at me.

“Well, hey there, you must be Jack, eh?” I said to him.

I had never heard anything like that before.

Sitting on the porch of my grandfather’s camp on Lake Champlain, a voice echoed from the small portable tape player covered with paint specks and years of winter storage dust.

If you’re lucky enough to stay home this Labor Day weekend, revel in the fact you live somewhere other people — lots of other people — love to visit.

By Friday, droves of tourists will be here. In our house, we approach these prime time tourist weekends the same way others react to the weatherman’s call for a wintery mix: hit the store and stock up while the getting is good, because by Saturday, the inventory of hotdog buns and selection of sweet pickle relish will be severely depleted.  

My kids have been in training all summer for the Haywood County Fair.

They haven’t been raising giant pumpkins nor whipping their dairy cows into shape for the show ring. Nor have they been boning up on their bingo skills, perfecting recipes for the cake walk contest, or even rehearsing comedy routines for the variety show.

The floor below me began to shake.

For a moment, the idea of the structure collapsing seemed plausible. All around me, thousands of people were screaming, thrashing their arms wildly with manic looks on their faces. It was Sanford Stadium in Athens, Ga., and I was partaking in my first Southeastern Conference (SEC) football game.

The scramble is on across WNC to pack in a few last drops of quality family time before school starts back.

This might get loud.

I tend to say that to anyone who finds themselves in the passenger’s seat of my rusty pickup truck. I live and die for rock-n-roll.

I was afraid of getting caught.

As a teenager, I found myself sneaking into the back door of my grandfather’s garage. Amid the darkness, I stepped over firewood, fishing gear and forgotten storage boxes layered in dust. Sliding past his couch-on-wheels Ford Crown Victoria, I located the refrigerator and reached for the handle. Opening the door, the bright light illuminated the interior of the garage. Squinting my eyes, I found what I was in search of – a cold can of Coors Light.