The absurdity of life, eh?   

I’m just sitting here right now at the local laundromat in West Waynesville. Simply observing and reflecting on gratitude, for nothing and everything, and everything in-between. Families sit quietly around me awaiting the wash cycle to end. It’s Sunday morning. Back to work by this time tomorrow. Spend your free time cleaning your clothes.   

There are people who elevate the energy in a room and those who deflate it. Some folks radiate joy and positivity while others seem to always emit negativity or bitterness. The magical part is that we all have the free will to change, to completely shift our vibration from low to high, and by doing that, we not only impact our own lives, but also those around us. 

Of all the chapters that I read and reviewed in my most recent review of the book “Letters From the Smokies” in Smoky Mountain Living (June-July 2025), the story of the Walker Sisters was the one story that got my attention probably more than any of the others.

Richard Baker is in an interesting place, looking back at a prolific body of work while also staring down an uncertain future.  

Baker, who is sitting on the doorstep of 70, had his work featured at a retrospective last weekend at the Folkmoot Center in Waynesville. The event was well attended, largely by people familiar with the artist and his paintings, people who admire his unique style.   

Goosebumps. A slight tear in my eyes.  

Pictured in this week’s column is my most favorite place in the entire universe. The Grand Teton Mountains straddling the Wyoming/Idaho border. I’ve been coming to these ancient peaks since 1992, when I was seven years old and made my first trip West with my family from our native Upstate New York.  

I once spun my wheels searching and seeking an experience outside of myself or something big and expansive to find happiness. This tactic sort of worked for a while, but eventually I realized that looking forward to the next vacation or celebration or milestone was preventing me from all the in-betweens, all the goodness that happens in the weeks and months and years that unfold quietly, slowly — these are the minutes and hours we need to embrace more fully. 

I woke up with sunshine streaming into my bedroom, the mountains surrounding my town illuminated in bright green vegetation. And yet, I felt in no mood to celebrate Independence Day. 

With each passing year, I think more and more about the longevity of life. When I was young, I couldn’t wait to be older, to reach those milestone birthdays — 16, 18, 21. Even turning 10 was fun because it’s the first double digit and also 13 because one can finally use the descriptor “teenager.” 

I recently found my old CD album, the giant book of plastic sleeves that many of us tediously curated back in the day. Flipping through the pages, one by one, I smiled as I recalled memories — certain albums serving as soundtracks to highlights and lowlights of my teenage and early adult years. 

There’s a quote that’s stuck with me since I first heard it recently. It’s actually in the story I wrote last week about the newly-opened Astro Record Store in Waynesville: “There’s enjoyment and there’s convenience. As things become more and more convenient, I think people look for ways to invest their time and find enjoyment.”