It never ceases to amaze Lorraine Conard.

“It’s a little bit magical,” she said. “You walk in and there’s this energy and excitement, a heartbeat within the community — I’m always so grateful and thankful for the people who come in.”

Monday is the new Saturday. 

Heading down Frazier Street in Waynesville to BearWaters Brewing Company, one can barely find a place to park on a typical Monday evening. For the last couple of months, the location has played host to a semi-weekly open mic event called the “Spontaneous CombustJam.” Bringing together local talents and acclaimed regional players, the sessions have gained a buzz around Western North Carolina in just a short time. 

His voice will stop you in your tracks.

Russ Wilson is a bridge to an era, a time when style and class were synonymous with musicianship and showmanship.

Claire Lynch likes to blur lines.

Born and raised in Upstate New York, she eventually moved away, crossing the Mason-Dixon Line for Alabama at age 12. She carried in her mind the sounds of the 1960s folk scene of Greenwich Village in Manhattan and show tunes echoing from the record player in her childhood home. Soon, she’d cross paths down South with country and bluegrass melodies radiating from Nashville and beyond. 

It never ceases to amaze Lorraine Conard.

“It’s a little bit magical,” she said. “You walk in and there’s this energy and excitement, a heartbeat within the community — I’m always so grateful and thankful for the people who come in.”

Sitting in the front room of The Strand at 38 Main in downtown Waynesville, Lorraine and her husband Rodney are the owners of the movie theatre. A beloved destination for many years within the town, it lay dormant for far too long, only to be purchased, renovated and revived by the young couple.

It’s a lot harder than it looks. Stepping up to the first tee of the disc golf course at Grand Targhee Resort in Alta, Wyo., I was handed what looked like a smaller, heavier, more defined type of Frisbee. It was my first time ever playing it, and first time actually hearing about the sport. 

I did it again. It’s 9 a.m. last Saturday at the starting line of the Cashiers Trail Mix five-mile backwoods race. I knew I should have gotten more sleep the night before, should have at least had something to eat that morning. Shouldn’t have overindulged in the libations of Friday night, nor said the things I now regretted to my girlfriend.

How do you do it? I get asked this question quite often. Folks, whether friends, family or strangers, approach me and wonder how I’m able to write, day in and day out, about anything and everything. 

They were stuck. Sitting around the bar at No Name Sports Pub in Sylva, the members of rockabilly band Rumble Seat Riot were wondering if they’d make their upcoming show in St. Louis, if their broken down van in Greenville was salvageable, or if they’d even be able to make it back home to Des Moines. 

What to do?

That was the question I posed to myself when I found out my girlfriend was visiting from Upstate New York. She is someone who has never been to Western North Carolina, never been to Southern Appalachia, let alone anywhere in the South for that matter.