The quote used to title this column was stated by the late Pope Francis, who passed away last week at age 88. Rest easy, good sir. 

Pope Francis was cool in my book, even though I can’t say the same for the Catholic Church, in general.

The garden gnomes stared at me from our cluttered carport, dirty and bored, no blooming flowers to observe or tomato vines to tickle their bellies. I was holding on to them well past their desire.  

The wildest thing about being a longtime writer is that you end up compartmentalizing most of your life through your assignments, interviews, deadlines, and so forth.

Standing on the precipice of their 20th anniversary, The SteelDrivers aren’t looking over their shoulders at the road to the here and now. Quite the contrary, where the Americana/bluegrass icons are aiming headlong towards the unknowns of tomorrow. And with one simple, yet powerful, thought permeating throughout — what’s next? 

I woke up this morning with this heavy feeling of how fast time is moving. I mean, in essence, time doesn’t exist and everything is all one moment. But, I still see those increasing grey hairs in my beard and well-earned laugh wrinkles in my face. 

This evening, I realized that a wine bottle ordered at a restaurant (half-off bottles on Mondays) never lasts long enough when you’re with someone you love (friend, family, partner, etc.). And it never seems to empty itself when you’re by yourself. 

Nearing the midnight hour, I found myself sipping on a cold Coors Light can in the depths of the Tradewinds Lounge in downtown St. Augustine, Florida. This was last Tuesday, but the classic rock tribute onstage that evening was rockin’ out as if it was Saturday night. 

It was one of those moments that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

A moment just to myself, where when the moment was unfolding in real time, you feel an immediate and deep gratitude for, this intrinsic connection to the universe. 

As I was cracking the third of four eggs into the bowl to then scramble the yolks, the chorus of John Prine’s seminal 1971 number “Spanish Pipedream” echoed throughout the room. I decided then and there that to make breakfast with Mr. Prine playing in the background is the only way to start your day. 

Early Tuesday morning. Sitting in the dentist chair, I stared blankly out onto the parking lot, only to then notice the bustling traffic on nearby U.S. 276. It was at that moment when the nice dental hygienist asked if a date and time in mid-September 2025 would be ideal for my next teeth cleaning.