Hello from the depths of Panacea Coffee Company in the Historic Frog Level District of Waynesville. At the moment, I’m sitting at the prized table. If you’ve ever been to Panacea, you know which one I’m talking about, the one on the second tier, next to the big window looking down upon Richland Creek.  

My best friend of all time and space, Benjamin Joseph Perron, 42, passed away unexpectedly on Thursday, April 23, in Plattsburgh, New York, and of natural causes. 

Born in Carthage, New York, on Feb. 9, 1984, Ben came into this existence full of curiosity and mischief, something that never left his heart, soul and antics throughout his life.

Hello from Room 323 at the Hyatt Place in downtown Athens, Georgia. A quiet Monday morning here in “Bulldog Country” with the hotel right on the edge of the campus of the University of Georgia. Lots of thoughts are ricocheting around my mind, especially with the Boston Marathon currently on the TV. 

Hello from the front porch of my humble abode apartment in downtown Waynesville. I just finished playing a little bit of acoustic guitar, sunglasses on, as the last of the Monday sunshine washed over my body, heart and soul before it disappeared behind the Balsam Mountains cradling the town.

In this moment, I realized what a great day, well, today was, and remains.

It was watching my father putt on Hole #14 at the Maggie Valley Country Club last Monday afternoon when a vivid thought appeared across my field of vision — don’t forget this moment of spending quality time with the old man. 

A few feet from my 84-year-old father was my mother, age 77, and also one of my best friends, age 66.

Hello from Room 8 at the Atlantis Inn, located in downtown Tybee Island, Georgia. It’s Monday morning and I’m currently sitting on the small balcony attached to the room. Sunshine overhead, the ocean just a block away. 

This is the final day of an extended road trip down to Saint Augustine, Florida, and back to my humble abode in Waynesville. I’ve been gone for the better part of the last three weeks, albeit working remotely and unrelentingly, as per usual.

Hello from the Trade Winds Lounge in downtown Saint Augustine, Florida. It’s 10:10 p.m. and I just finished my first Coors Light at this second stop of the evening, and right when classic rock/country gold tribute act Jackhammer finishes up its second of three sets tonight. 

What was initially an old-school tiki bar when it opened decades (and decades) ago has now morphed, more so melted in the hot Florida sun, into a beloved dive bar of legendary proportions.

Hello from St. Augustine, Florida. Specifically, a small bungalow a few blocks from the Spanish ruins and the heart of the city. This place has been rented by my folks for the month of March for the last 13 years, these two snowbirds fleeing the frozen North Country that is our native Upstate New York. 

Hello from the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. It’s Monday evening and I’m currently sitting at a TGI Fridays in the B-Terminal wing. The Miller Lite draft is both overpriced and oversized. “Welcome to Texas,” the server (named Lolo) says to me when I admire the size of the large glass and hearty pour. 

Hello from Room 216 at the Holiday Inn Express & Suites on the southern edge of Steamboat Springs, Colorado. It’s 9:30 a.m. Gazing out the window of the hotel, I can see the ancient ridges of the snowy Park Range Mountains surrounding the community in this high desert corner of the West.