Since I’m a retired teacher of roughneck kids as well as a volunteer cook at the Senior Center, it seemed inevitable that I’d read Home Made: A Story of Grief, Groceries, Showing Up—and What We Make When We Make Dinner.
It is officially summer, I heard someone say the other day. Summer—a time to swim and walk, sit on the back porch, boat, play tennis, recline in shade-dappled hammocks, paddleboard, read…. Plus, the world is opening up, and there’s a lot of joy in all of that. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves.
Well, I guess as I started reading the recent biography of Bob Dylan that I consciously reflected on the prominence of music, not only in my time, but in the universal realm. The human brain forms around it. Is it safe to say that our DNA carries a tune?
He’s nearly six feet tall, 400 pounds and covered in soft wool. He’s got big, dark eyes the color of a deep Andean mountain lake. And he spits when he’s mad.
Renowned aerialist and choreographer Pamela Donohoo headlined Juneteenth festivities at the Clemmons Family Farm on June 21.
About ten years ago, Julia Beerworth and her sister-in-law Anna Pepin began singing together at holiday functions. “We played for fun at home,” Beerworth said “and then we decided to try some local bars. I think our first performance was open mic at Radio Bean.”
It isn’t easy to compose an article on a laptop while sitting outside in the sun, but this day is too beautiful to spend sitting inside in a darkened room, so I’m going to try. I don’t think I have ever experienced a more beautiful spring than the one we are having.
In my last column I wrote about my daydreams in escapism and finally leaving the safety of my apartment to enter the real world. Well, folks, that day has come (sort of)!
The Library and the Grange are excited to announce a series of free outdoor music and farm events this summer.
Can you imagine… Being Mortal, Lost in Shangri La, hearing the News of the World about the Destiny of the Republic that includes The Underground Railroad, Guns, Germs, and Steel, and The Wright Brothers; that the Soul of the Octopus,
Though this book is, yes, wryly funny on occasion, there is longing and sadness clucking softy between the lines.
As daffodil and crocus shoots push up through the mud in the places we walk and live, we may tend to forget that some blooms push up through pavement. Angie Thomas is an American young adult author, probably best known for her novel The Hate U Give.
With my cabin fever in mind, I spoke with Los Angeles-based Australian artist Joe McKee: musician, record label owner and creative wizard whom I admire for many reasons—one of which being that he traveled a great distance to produce his latest album,
It’s been a long time since I last wrote. I could say life got in the way of my column, but truthfully, I’ve been grappling with its format. This year has been tough on my music discovery—all of the world’s doom and gloom has encouraged me to revisit my all-time favorite sad-guy albums and stay inside.
Sara Nelson hoped 2020 would be her breakout year. She was making jewelry as a side business, and in 2019 she left the corporate world to make it a full-time occupation. She was booked at trade shows in New York, Atlanta and Florida, but then COVID struck and the shows were cancelled. Nevertheless, Nelson is confident that Elli Parr Jewelry business will survive the pandemic.
Thanksgiving fun for kids includes dad jokes, a coloring page and a word jumble.
Lilyanna Mittelstadt made good use of her time at the end of a long summer by painting this mural of her neighbor’s farm—Holly and Mark Rochefort’s Haytumble Farm in Charlotte. Photos by Mark Rochefort
Over the past couple of weeks, the library has hosted Wednesday late afternoon concerts. Performers have been on the porch and audiences scattered over the green, staying in marked circles and socializing from afar.
The act of missing people and places and friends and things is one of the many morose through lines of 2020, although the sentiment has spooled into my weird world of radio to create something good…or, at least, something I’m happy with.
Greetings from Los Angeles. Admittedly, it’s been a while—perhaps too long—although I hope you’ll forgive my absence since I last wrote. The last couple of months have felt like years in themselves.