This must be the place: ‘I've stumbled through the valley, halfway up the mountain now’
Hello from Lemon Street in St. Augustine, Florida. Since 2013, my folks, who live in Upstate New York, have been coming down here for the month of March to escape the frozen North Country winters.
This must be the place: ‘Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself’
That quote underneath the title of this column is from the seminal 1958 novella “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Truman Capote. It was also the dramatic culmination in the 1961 film of the same name starring Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly.
This must be the place: Ode to the written word, ode to putting the paper to bed
It’s a lot quieter this week at The Smoky Mountain News. Not just because of the unusually warm weather this past weekend sparking folks to frolic and head for the hills.
This must be the place: ‘When the trees are bare and the barns are white with frost’
Hello from Room 211 at the Red Roof Inn just off Interstate 64 in Lexington, Kentucky. Bright, warm rays of sunshine stream into the east-facing window of the $43.95 per night cheap motel room. Crisp morning air rolls across the city and nearby horse country.
This must be the place: ‘I don’t want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together’
I’m a minimalist. I don’t want much, nor do I care to ever have much. As long as I’m surrounded by shelves of books and stacks of vinyl records, a comfy recliner and some cold suds in the fridge in my humble abode of a one-bedroom Waynesville apartment (that also has a porch with mountain views, thankfully), I’m good to go.
This must be the place: ‘I cherish my intercontinental friendships, we talk it over continental breakfast’
The smart phone dinged incessantly early this morning ‘round 8 a.m. at my small Waynesville apartment. Social media notifications and text messages. Then came the phone calls from my mother and father way up in the North Country. It’s my 39th birthday.
This must be the place: Ode to Wild Kathy, ode to never slowing down, never growing old
My best girl (aka: my mother Kathy) turns 75 years young today (Jan. 21). Currently, it’s a cold, frigid Sunday here in the mountains of Western North Carolina, same goes for my hometown of Plattsburgh, New York.
This must be the place: Ode to Styx, ode to being ‘born for adventure’
In the vast, rich musical landscape of 1970s/1980s rock-n-roll, few bands sold as many records and played as big of shows as that of Styx — numerous platinum albums and sold out stadium gigs from coast-to-coast.
This must be the place: “Sudden illumination, sudden awakening or simply kick in the eye”
Peering through the window blinds of the motel room, the sunshine felt yesterday afternoon was long gone and now replaced by an early morning haze of clouds and a slight drizzle.
This must be the place: ‘Olden times and ancient rhymes, of love and dreams to share’ (Part Two)
Somewhere between the treadmill and the free weights of the complimentary fitness center, my mind started thinking on all the different hotels and cities I’ve found myself in this past year. This go-round it was the Cambria in Columbia, South Carolina.
