During his recent solo album release show at 185 King St. in Brevard, singer-songwriter Graham Sharp was not only surrounded by a murderers’ row of bluegrass musicians; he was encapsulated by time and place itself — of people, purpose and passion. 

The title of this column comes from a lyric in a 1968 song by R&B sensation, the late Johnny Thunder. Although it wasn’t a radio hit at the time, it has become a cult classic, a number that (truly) reinvigorates the soul. Trust me, track it down. You’ll get it. 

Wednesday. Late morning. Another bluebird sky day here in the mountains of Western North Carolina. Warm rays of sunshine greeted my face when I stepped off the porch of my humble abode apartment in downtown Waynesville. Put the truck in drive and begin the day. 

Back in the 1940s, while World War II was still raging in Europe and the Philippines,  Charlie Kilpatrick and I used to entertain ourselves by prowling through the kudzu thickets near his house. 

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. I’m an incredibly spiritual person, not religious. And, as someone who grew up surrounded by Catholicism, I’ve never been a fan of the church’s antics over the centuries and millennia (“antics” is a very, very diluted word to describe the dark history).

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.