I made the trip down to NC to see my husband, feeling a bit dejected. I often write about my success and failures as a struggling musician in New York City, but lately it seems I have experienced more failures than anything else. And while I was happy at the thought of being with my husband for a few days, I had a 14 hour trip to stew about my career, what I would do when I returned, and the ever weighing question on my mind, what if I never get anywhere with this? After a few days in the Smoky Mountains, I couldn't face the prospect of going back home so soon. I extended my trip and decided to focus on my husband while I was here. I swore off my normal routine of scouring the internet hours at a time looking for jobs and another several hours a day perfecting recordings and practicing. I also wouldn’t miss the day to day journey in and out of the city – the bus ride at rush hour, the dirty, crowded subways, walking for blocks in the freezing cold, or constantly getting lost, con...

Some people in this world just have talent oozing out their ears. Everything they do turns to gold and people can’t get enough of them. I can’t get enough of Dolly Parton. Since I was a little girl, I knew she was special and recognized her voice on the radio. I could probably pick her voice out of an entire choir. Now for those of you, who are quick to judge, take a second to think about all she has accomplished. She’s been in the spotlight for decades, runs her own theme park, plays every instrument under the sun (with 3 inch long nails no less), sings, writes, records, arranges, acts, and can give a live performance that will knock you over. I don’t think there is anything about Dolly that I don’t admire. I love the fact that when she was a little girl, she saw the town tramp and thought she was the most beautiful woman ever, so when she grew up she imitated that beauty. While some people condemn Dolly for her looks, they don’t consider that most women in the world do the same thi...

I sat in a Port Authority Bus Station coffee shop waiting for my bus to arrive. Returning from an audition, I had a half hour to wait for the next bus to take me back to New Jersey. As I sipped my coffee, 2 older ladies took their seat at the table next to me. They were maybe in their 60s, talkative, excited, and very cheerful. I didn’t hear much of their conversation until 2 more ladies joined them and their reunion caused such a joyous spectacle, I couldn’t help but listen. It was obvious these ladies were close friends and went way back. Two lived in NJ and took the bus in, the other two lived in the city, and today was their first meeting in quite some time. I heard them talk about their families, joke about their wrinkles, and reminisce over shared memories. Then they pulled from their bags a library of brochures and maps and one lady asked, “So what should we do today?” Another replied, “Maybe we should go to the Met. Or maybe we should go to the Empire State Building. Or mayb...

Would I be correct in saying that there is a certain sweet, magical satisfaction that comes with being right? Especially between a husband and wife? There is gratifying validation when the confirming moment occurs and one person is right and the other person has to admit defeat! This happened the other day. You see, my husband was different when he was active duty Army. His hair was never a millimeter longer than allowed. I’m talking, fresh hair cut every Sunday afternoon for seven years. Clean shaven with a sharp blade every morning. Polished, ironed, pressed, creased, and tucked in 24/7. Well, things have changed in the last few months. He now ventures out into public in t-shirts and jeans taken from a wadded up pile on the floor. His face is overgrown with untamed, thick whiskers. His hair is long, uncombed, un-gelled, and usually unwashed. As his wife, I generally feel it is my responsibility to see that he is presentable when we go out. I can usually coax him into getting a ha...

One day, several years ago just after my grandpa passed away, my grandma and I were upstairs in his old office sorting through boxes and papers. His absence was still fresh in my mind as I came across pictures and old notes written in his handwriting. The house seemed different without him in it, yet my grandma managed to carry on the warm, welcoming atmosphere for the both of them. I still don’t know how she does it. “Oh my goodness, Elizabeth,” I heard my grandma say as she pulled out a package from a disheveled pile on the desk. “Look at this.” She held up the object. It was a box set of Hank Williams Sr. CDs. I took the CDs and looked them over, wondering what the significance could be. I looked up and waited for her to explain. She said that once, a long time ago, her and grandpa saw a commercial on TV advertising the Hank William’s box set. Grandma had mentioned how much she liked his songs. Several days later, the same commercial came on and Grandpa asked her, “Wouldn’t you l...

One February day, high up in the Smoky Mountains, a father and his 4 sons pulled their car to the shoulder of the winding, steep road to admire the majestic beauty of a tumbling waterfall on the side of the mountain. The water fell from high above their heads – from where, they could not see. The powerful force plunged down the vertical, brown rock and crashed intensely to the earth. Then calmly but rapidly, the water carried on into a peaceful stream flowing far out into the distance. Beautiful, wet snowflakes fell softly from the sky, making a blanket of snow on the ground. The brown trees were so numerous and dense, their branches were indiscernible from one tree to another – only defined by a white line of snow that had accumulated enough to graze the upper half of each limb. The freezing temperature had caused a lavish display of crystal icicles, each one unique in shape and size. At the base of the waterfall, some icicles froze into tiny droplets, building on one another unti...

The Frog and the Owl Restaurant is a small café in Franklin, NC where my husband is attending a Park Ranger Certification course. It is one of the few places to eat in the small, Smoky Mountain town other than a fast food or a pizza place. Located on a cobble stone street in between an ice cream parlor and a thrift store, this is where we ate our Valentine’s dinner. The quaint restaurant was lovely and warm inside, with candles to light each table and artwork on the walls displaying scenes from the beautiful mountainous region. The menu was a selection of pastas, seafood, and steak with a unique and creative twist to each dish. Our normal dinner conversation usually consists of what Eddie is doing in school or what I have been working on back home, but instead we began reminiscing about past Valentines Days and other milestones we’ve reached as a couple. He’s told me the story before, but there is nothing like hearing it again – the day we met. We were both in the Army and it was m...