It’s hard not to love where we live
When I travel and tell someone I’m from Waynesville, a small town nestled in the Smoky Mountains, the comment is always met with awe and excitement.
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.
This must be the place: Ain’t nobody slowing down no way, everybody’s stepping on their accelerator
It was about 4:30 a.m. when the cover of the hot tub was finally pulled off and we jumped into the warm waters in the early hours of New Year’s Day.
More than just a ride on the rails
In the years after the Civil War, train travel in America exploded. Rail lines soon crisscrossed the country, bringing travelers from San Francisco to New York, from Savannah to Boston.
This must be the place: My dreams fading down the railway line, I’m just about a moonlight mile down the road
It’s 9:21 a.m. Monday. Room 130. Super 8 Motel on the outskirts of Valdosta, Georgia. The air in the space is cool from the ragged old air-conditioner underneath the window. TV blaring some holiday rom-com flick, but the sound is muted. The Rolling Stones’ “Moonlight Mile” swirling around the bed from the laptop speakers.
This must be the place
It’s 11:16 a.m. Wednesday. Sitting in the lobby of the Dunes Inn & Suites on Tybee Island, Georgia, I can finally collect myself and write this column, seeing as the Wi-Fi is only good in the lobby and not the motel room (#132) at the back of the property.
Regular people shine in novel set in Paris
Sometimes the world seems pretty crazy, especially for those of us who follow the daily news and commentaries online.
A book about the paths most traveled
In my younger years, I used to do a lot of hiking. I would follow footpaths and trails or blaze my own way through the woods or along streams and rivers. While those trailblazing days are over, I get my more physical outdoor thrills vicariously from writers like Robert Moor, who travels all over the planet experiencing different ecosystems and terrain to whet his appetite and intellect.
This must be the place: But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay
By the time you read this, my folks will be motoring through Southwestern Virginia, probably deciding whether to just keep driving back to their native Upstate New York via Interstate 81 or maybe east onto I-64 and Charlottesville to visit Monticello again.
Always something new around the corner
Travel is one of my favorite soul foods, but it’s also cool to really get to know the place you live. I’ve spent most of my life in North Carolina and I know the state well. I’ve stowed my bicycles and parked my cars at addresses in nine different towns and cities in every compass quadrant of the state since moving here in 1970.
