Waynesville officials will hold a public hearing next week on an ordinance that would pave the way for street performers, known colloquially as “buskers,” to play in the town’s public spaces in hopes of making a buck or two from passersby. 

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.

Don’t go in there.

As long as I can remember, I’ve been told this. From my parents, teachers, friends or just strangers in general. It’s a phrase that can refer to a dangerous spot in the woods, front yards with vicious canines, disgusting restaurants or mismanaged places of business. But, mostly, it’s been applied to certain bars.

It’s the question I get asked the most.

“Is there any music around tonight?”

It had been 10 years.

I kept thinking those words while boarding a plane in Charlotte this past weekend, bound for my hometown. Tucked far away in the northeast, awaiting my arrival was a 10-year high school reunion. 

Standing in an empty field, Martin Cook has a vision. 

Founder of the renowned Western North Carolina gospel group The Inspirations, Cook looks around the band’s 29-acre property (dubbed “Inspiration Park”) just east of Bryson City. The beauty and grandeur spills far and wide, and that’s just the backdrop he enjoys sharing each year during their “Singing In The Smokies” festival, which runs July 4-6.

Getting poison ivy is my official sign summer is here.

Like old men whose knees ache when there’s an impending storm, the symbolic rash and blisters are Mother Nature’s way of telling me spring is over. Ever since I was kid, I always seemed to catch poison ivy at least once during the summer months.

It was the reason I came to the South.

Situated in the southeastern corner of Tennessee, the city of Chattanooga is a rapidly growing, bustling hub of culture and commerce in Southern Appalachia. Like Asheville, both cities went through hard times following the end of their manufacturing eras. Each became stagnant, searching for an identity that eventually evolved into prosperous havens for artists, musicians, chefs, craft brewers, etc.

In Western North Carolina, it seems the two most important things are tradition and family – and nothing incorporates those ideals more than the melodic music of Southern Appalachian.

“Music is a huge part of our heritage and of our lives here,” said musician Caleb Smith. “You go to a barn dance or play on your front porch, it’s something to be proud of. Bluegrass and mountain music may not be the biggest genre, but it’s authentic. It’s music that makes an impact on people.”

I had never seen the color green like that before.

Touching down at the Shannon Airport in southwest Ireland, the lush, vibrant green landscape of my ancestors took my breath away. It was August 2005, and I was about to embark on a collegiate semester abroad.