Hello from Room 8 at the Atlantis Inn, located in downtown Tybee Island, Georgia. It’s Monday morning and I’m currently sitting on the small balcony attached to the room. Sunshine overhead, the ocean just a block away. 

This is the final day of an extended road trip down to Saint Augustine, Florida, and back to my humble abode in Waynesville. I’ve been gone for the better part of the last three weeks, albeit working remotely and unrelentingly, as per usual.

It’s a crazy world out there, folks. And yet, it’s always been kind of nuts, just more so under the current circumstances. But, I remain optimistic. Shit, what’s the alternative? Freak out and bail on the universe? Nah, not my cup o’tea. 

As an older millennial, this is another bump in the road of life. All the wars, economic recessions, political chaos, cultural shifts and social unrest (and also the pandemic), with most of it since I entered the workforce 19 years ago.

Hello from the Trade Winds Lounge in downtown Saint Augustine, Florida. It’s 10:10 p.m. and I just finished my first Coors Light at this second stop of the evening, and right when classic rock/country gold tribute act Jackhammer finishes up its second of three sets tonight. 

What was initially an old-school tiki bar when it opened decades (and decades) ago has now morphed, more so melted in the hot Florida sun, into a beloved dive bar of legendary proportions.

Hello from St. Augustine, Florida. Specifically, a small bungalow a few blocks from the Spanish ruins and the heart of the city. This place has been rented by my folks for the month of March for the last 13 years, these two snowbirds fleeing the frozen North Country that is our native Upstate New York. 

To the Editor:

I am 91 years old. For close to 50 of those years we lived at 116 Cowan Street in Sylva. We were active members at First Baptist Church; our five children attended Fairview Elementary and Sylva-Webster High School. My wife, Barbara, taught piano, dulcimer, guitar and other instruments to dozens of people throughout Western North Carolina. We Osments will always consider Sylva to be our hometown. 

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. 

Nearing the midnight hour, I found myself sipping on a cold Coors Light can in the depths of the Tradewinds Lounge in downtown St. Augustine, Florida. This was last Tuesday, but the classic rock tribute onstage that evening was rockin’ out as if it was Saturday night. 

It was one of those moments that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

A moment just to myself, where when the moment was unfolding in real time, you feel an immediate and deep gratitude for, this intrinsic connection to the universe. 

As I was cracking the third of four eggs into the bowl to then scramble the yolks, the chorus of John Prine’s seminal 1971 number “Spanish Pipedream” echoed throughout the room. I decided then and there that to make breakfast with Mr. Prine playing in the background is the only way to start your day. 

Hello from Lemon Street in St. Augustine, Florida. Since 2013, my folks, who live in Upstate New York, have been coming down here for the month of March to escape the frozen North Country winters.