This must be the place: ‘And if you take my heart, don’t leave the smallest part’
In the midst of eating my third hard-boiled egg of the morning, I overheard the young couple at the next breakfast table mention to their server that they’d gotten married this past Saturday.
Taking a sip of my second cup of coffee, my gaze went from the newlyweds to the nearby roaring fireplace, then out the big glass windows onto the picturesque pond on the side lawn of the majestic property.
Remembering summers of adventure at Camp Margaret Townsend
I was at least an hour and a half into my conversation with June Goforth when I joked that she hadn’t given me a chance to ask any questions. She paused a moment before laughing and said, “Oh, I didn’t know you had questions.”
I had sat down with Goforth to talk about Camp Margaret Townsend, a Girl Scout camp that was a summer home away from home for hundreds of girls between 1925 and 1959.
This must be the place: ‘After all, it was a great big world, with lots of places to run to’
It just dawned on me, at this exact moment, that my Western journey is over (at least until next time). Currently, I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Nashville, Tennessee, doing some writing and pondering, as per usual. And I’ll be finally headed back to my humble abode in Western North Carolina tomorrow. To note, I’ve been on the road since July 8.
Chris Cox’s warm, witty book about family
Search online, or in a library or bookshop, and you’ll find how-to books about parenting. Recent popular titles include “Simplicity Parenting,” “The Five Principles of Parenting” and “How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk.” There are even books about how not to parent, like Leonard Sax’s “The Collapse of Parenting.”
This must be the place: ‘Roll on, to the North Star, I got the key to carry on’
The Universe. It never ceases to amaze me.
This evening (last Monday be the time you read this), I felt kind of lonely. A lot of that feeling has to do with the last eight months or so of my life. Work burnout. The flood. The aftermath. The breakup. The aftermath. Turning 40. Starting therapy. Life, in general. And so on.
This must be the place: 'Down here in the Bardo's light, in the cycles, days and years'
Tuesday afternoon. The clouds are hanging low over the mountains surrounding downtown Waynesville, covering up the actual height and grandeur of these peaks. The urge to walk out of the newsroom, get into my truck and head for the hills to trail run is deep and real.
This must be the place: ‘And I’m breathin’ clean fresh air today, I’m alive’
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.
Finding space for two emotions at once
Growing older isn’t all bad.
My grandparents once gave me nuggets of wisdom and I would look at them and think, "How do they know all of that?"
Rain on the scarecrows (concluded)
Several weeks ago, I published an article that dealt with a trip to Tellico Plains with the Principal Chief of the Cherokees, John Crowe. This was back in 1976 and the Tennessee Valley Authority had announced their plans to flood the Tellico Plains.
This must be the place: 'All these places had their moments, with lovers and friends, I still can recall'
I turned 40 years old today.
This morning, I awoke in the guest bedroom of my parents’ farmhouse in my native North Country of Upstate New York. It was 12 degrees outside with a frigid breeze, the sun shining brightly. I rolled over and looked out the second-story window onto a backyard blanketed in snow, each flake sparkling.
