“They headed down south and they’re still running today…”

As The Steve Miller Band blasted through the hit song “Take the Money and Run” last Friday evening at the St. Augustine Amphitheater, I found myself standing there, amid several thousand roaring fans, in awe, not only of the music, but of time and place itself.

$25.06. The total at the gas pump. Full tank. Waynesville to Tybee Island, Georgia. Around 350 miles. As an impending snowstorm crept over the Great Smoky Mountains of Western North Carolina last Thursday, I jumped into my musty, rusty pickup truck and bolted down the highway, en route to sunny skies and crashing waves along the mighty Atlantic Ocean.

Boo yah. That was my exact response (loudly) when I was informed last week I’d won a few awards from the North Carolina Press Association that were handed out at their annual banquet in Chapel Hill. First place “Arts & Entertainment Reporting,” second place “Columns,” and third place “Niche Publication.”

It is for all special occasions.

Editor’s Note: On Feb. 9, Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders won the Democratic primary in New Hampshire. Garret posted a photo of him and Sanders on his Facebook page with a few thoughts on Sanders, who is a longtime popular politician in Garret’s native Champlain Valley (Upstate New York/Vermont). To which, hundreds of people clicked “like” on the post, with many commenting on this image and the man himself.

It ain’t so bad.

Getting older. Tomorrow is my 31st birthday, and as I reflect on my first year of this new decade in my life, I’m finding myself more centered and alive than ever before.

It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Suicide. The one societal topic that makes everyone squirm, conjuring traumatic memories as we think back on those familiar faces no longer with us, but dearly missed.

That song — you know that song — came over the stereo and I felt my shoulders relax.

There are singers, there are performers, and then there’s Laura Reed. 

Wandering the numerous floors and stages of New Mountain Asheville (a wild, freewheelin’ venue) last February, I eventually found myself downstairs in the main room, immersed in a sea of joyous faces, all eager to boogie down to legendary New Orleans funk-n-soul group Dumpstaphunk (featuring Ivan Neville).

The alarm went off on my phone. Monday morning. 6:45 a.m.