This must be the place: Can’t you feel the whole world’s a-turnin’? We are real and we are a-burnin’
It was the sound of a fire truck roaring through downtown Knoxville Monday morning that woke me up. The window curtains were somewhat open. It was cloudy outside, signaling that the sunshine enjoyed yesterday had now moved on.
This must be the place: Sipping an old fashioned like a divorcee in Vegas, I’m too young to be feeling this way
I forgot to pull down the window shade and awoke to the early morning light on Saturday. There was a slight drizzle overtaking downtown Asheville. I emerged from the king size bed and reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand.
This must be the place: Rock and roll is here to stay, come inside where it’s okay
It was that familiar smell that conjured a slew of memories.
This must be the place: I want to hold you in the Bible black pre-dawn, what was I thinking when we said hello?
It’s Sunday, Feb. 13. The Super Bowl will be underway in about six hours. I’m sitting at a table in the depths of Orchard Coffee in downtown Waynesville. Large cup of coffee (with a shot of espresso) nearby. A breakfast sandwich and yogurt soon to be arriving.
This must be the place: I got love that ain’t gonna change, I got love that won’t fade away
It was right around the third drink of the evening when I had the sneaking suspicion an existential crisis was going to rear its head before the night was through.
This must be the place: It’s a Monday, it’s so mundane, what exciting things will happen today?
Just east of Hot Springs, I pulled off U.S. 70 and turned into the small, muddy parking lot. Emerging from the truck, I threw on the rest of my trail running gear. Heading northbound on the Appalachian Trail, the destination was the Rich Mountain Tower.
This must be the place: I dreamt that you were Joan-of Arc and I was Don Quixote
Right at the line of Graham and Swain counties, along a stretch of N.C. 28, is the entrance to the Tsali Recreation Area. It was late Monday afternoon and the sun was quickly falling toward the horizon.
This must be the place: Someday soon, you’re gonna have families of your own
Stepping into the Cresskill Tavern in Cresskill, New Jersey, last Wednesday evening, the place looked the exact same. It had been just about a decade since I last wandered in there. Electric blue painted walls. Pool table. Jukebox. L-shaped bar. Just enough room for you and your friends, but that’s about it.
This must be the place: There were oh so many roads, I was livin’ to run and runnin’ to live
It’s Saturday evening here at my parents’ 1840 farmhouse in Upstate New York. The temperature is hovering around 15 degrees with a wind chill ducking below zero. It’s Jan. 8 and I was supposed to be back at my humble abode in Western North Carolina on Dec. 30.
This must be the place: Ain’t nobody slowing down no way, everybody’s stepping on their accelerator
It was about 4:30 a.m. when the cover of the hot tub was finally pulled off and we jumped into the warm waters in the early hours of New Year’s Day.
