The Western Carolina University Office of Alumni Engagement is stepping up to the plate and taking a swing at a new summer event designed to bring together members of the Catamount family at baseball stadiums across North and South Carolina. 

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. 

“The simple act of walking and taking in what I saw and puzzling over what I encountered as I went. The rhythm and simplicity of it.”              

— Neil King Jr. 

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.  

Officials at all levels of government, including new U.S. Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy, visited the construction area along I-40 near the Tennessee border to take a look at progress and renew the pledge to get the necessary repairs done as quickly and safely as possible. 

The fallout immediately following the disaster wrought by Hurricane Helene was tragic and traumatizing, but as time has gone on and debris piles slowly disappear, certain secondary woes are being fully realized. 

Christmas Eve. With the sun fading behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, the sky transitioning into bright pink, purple and orange, I found myself quietly jogging the four-mile path around Lake Junaluska. Nobody around me, the air quickly gets cold during sunset. Dozens of Canada geese roaming the walking trails and shoreline, with many more either swimming or in-flight nearby. 

It was quiet, so damn quiet. Wednesday evening. Myself flying solo, exiting Interstate 240, merging onto Patton Avenue and rolling into the heart of downtown Asheville. No traffic. No cars. No people. It was odd.