I’m a Tar Heel basketball fan. If you didn’t know that by now, sorry. If you’re a Duke fan, you might as well leave right now. Ashvegas is tight with the Heels. I’m a UNC grad. Coach Roy, birthed over the mountain in Mac-Dowell County, cut his basketball teeth in the Swannanoa Valley. Rashad McCants went to school just down[Read More…]
Writers write. That’s what Tom and Bill told me, anyway. I visited Thomas Wolfe and William Sydney Porter, aka O.Henry, this afternoon, and they spoke quite clearly. Each had his own way. Wolfe stands as an autobiographical American classic. He immortalized his home, down on Woodfin street, as the Old Kentucky home. “Look Homeward Angel” was banned from Asheville libraries[Read More…]
Beaver Lake hasn’t changed much over the years – that’s why I like it. The sentinel trees. The stacked canoes. The trail filled with dog-walkers and day-meditators. It’s a nice little retreat. You forget about the shopping center shoving its shoulder into one end of the bucolic little setting, and the sad little strip malls starting further north up Merrimon.[Read More…]
One of the lonliest places to be on or near Valentine’s Day is a laundromat. The one I visited today – this morning, actually – was filled with three or four very forlorn looking men. They look lonely. They wash plaid shirts. They pump quarters into a video poker machine to pass the time. They stare at the washers and[Read More…]
Welcome to Ashvegas. We’re just getting off the ground, so please bear with us.
It’s a cold and windy night, but I’m ensconced in the Blue Room, working away on what is sure to be one incredible weblog. We’ve got lots of plans. Blogging about the vagaries of life in Asheville, the daily commute over the Smoky Park Bridge, who knows what else. We look forward to having you come visit often.