This must be the place: ‘Walkin’ in the starlight place in my mind, walkin’ on moonlight in the day’
Hello from Room 202 at the Holiday Inn Express on the outskirts of the small town of Lake Wales, Florida.
This must be the place: ‘Night after sleepless night, I walk the floor and I want to know’
And so, we enter the whirlwind holiday season once again. Honestly, it feels like I was just in Knoxville, Tennessee, leaning against the bar on the second floor of the Preservation Pub in Market Square on New Year’s Eve when the clock struck midnight.
Simple, meaningful stories often overlooked
I once wrote a story about a couple in Jackson County who had been living off the grid for decades. They were college-educated professionals who made a choice to live intentionally.
This must be the place: ‘Stop the bus, turn the radio up high and grab the first guitar you see’
Hello from Room 1029 in the Blue Valley Cottage at the Old Edwards Inn, situated near the intersection of U.S. 64 and Main Street in downtown Highlands.
This must be the place: ‘Remember when we got drunk that time in Ontario, listening to Warren Zevon on the stereo’
Hello from Room 6102 at the Sonder motel on the edge of Old Town Scottsdale, Arizona. It’s 80 degrees outside in the late morning, with the dry heat of the Southwest steadily rising like the hot sun above the high desert prairie surrounding this vast, metropolitan area.
This must be the place: ‘Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere’
It was at 7:27 a.m. Monday when the red ball of fire broke the horizon line at Wrightsville Beach.
This must be the place: ‘And I thought that I’d found a light to guide me through’
A soothing mid-fall breeze floats across my front porch, through the screen door and into the apartment, ultimately swirling around the writing desk facing a bustling Russ Avenue within sight.
This must be the place: ‘The universe begins immediately to your left’
It was an otherwise quiet Tuesday evening when my girlfriend started in on me once again that it was high time to get rid of the old couch in our apartment in downtown Waynesville. By last count, it was probably the fifth or sixth time she’d said that this year.
This must be the place: Ode to Anna Marie, ode to the kids of Smith Street (and beyond)
Stepping outside the small log cabin, I took a moment to collect my thoughts. Vast farm fields and ancient dirt in the rural countryside outside of Goldsboro, the cool air of an impending fall was felt with a sense of relief in a place where heat and humidity reign supreme.
This must be the place: ‘It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work’
Somewhere around Schroon Lake, New York, just following a quick hike in the Adirondack Mountains, it was decided to head further down Interstate 87 to I-78, onward through Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, to get to Raleigh, North Carolina, for the International Bluegrass Music Association award show last Thursday.
