This must be the place: ‘Don’t deny that a rambler must always be free’

Hopping out of the 15-foot U-Haul truck last week, I reached for the gas pump and began fueling up the thirsty vehicle. It was Hieb’s Cenex gas station on Route 248 between the small town of Reliance, South Dakota (population: 128), and the bustling Interstate 90.

This must be the place: Goin’ places that I’ve never been, seein’ things that I may never see again

It was a matter of $50 when my father finally relented to his birthday celebration. In the depths of The Classic Wineseller in downtown Waynesville on Saturday evening, several friends and family came together to celebrate the old man — aka: “the curly wolf,” better known as Frank. 

This must be the place: ‘People love you when they on your mind, a thought is love’s currency’

It was an odd feeling to wake up in a natural state, rather than be disturbed by the noises of another impending day breaking through. The back bedroom in a small ranch house in the middle of vast swaths of farmland in Southwest Georgia. Silence in the large old brass bed. Sunlight trickled through antique glass windows. 

A Life in Focus: A Conversation with Graham Nash

Within his iconic melodies that have serenaded our hearts and minds for over a half-century, singer-songwriter Graham Nash is able to capture these vivid snapshots of a time and place, of people and things, these images we've hung up on the walls of our collective memory — the embedded signature of songs immortal.

This must be the place: Can’t you feel the whole world’s a-turnin’? We are real and we are a-burnin’

It was the sound of a fire truck roaring through downtown Knoxville Monday morning that woke me up. The window curtains were somewhat open. It was cloudy outside, signaling that the sunshine enjoyed yesterday had now moved on.

This must be the place: Sipping an old fashioned like a divorcee in Vegas, I’m too young to be feeling this way

I forgot to pull down the window shade and awoke to the early morning light on Saturday. There was a slight drizzle overtaking downtown Asheville. I emerged from the king size bed and reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand. 

This must be the place: Rock and roll is here to stay, come inside where it’s okay

It was that familiar smell that conjured a slew of memories.

This must be the place: I want to hold you in the Bible black pre-dawn, what was I thinking when we said hello?

It’s Sunday, Feb. 13. The Super Bowl will be underway in about six hours. I’m sitting at a table in the depths of Orchard Coffee in downtown Waynesville. Large cup of coffee (with a shot of espresso) nearby. A breakfast sandwich and yogurt soon to be arriving. 

This must be the place: I got love that ain’t gonna change, I got love that won’t fade away

It was right around the third drink of the evening when I had the sneaking suspicion an existential crisis was going to rear its head before the night was through. 

This must be the place: It’s a Monday, it’s so mundane, what exciting things will happen today?

Just east of Hot Springs, I pulled off U.S. 70 and turned into the small, muddy parking lot. Emerging from the truck, I threw on the rest of my trail running gear. Heading northbound on the Appalachian Trail, the destination was the Rich Mountain Tower. 

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