Your Neighbor

I’m not what you’d call a sports tourist. You won’t catch me queuing up to see the iconic sports venues where someone might have thrown a ball exceptionally well in 1983. But if a half-mad poet once wept into his whiskey at a forgotten pub? That’s my Super Bowl.

If artists aren’t making art, then we’re forfeiting our wholeness as humans and denying ourselves the privilege to enhance the cultural welfare of our communities. Artists deserve to choose where to live, where to create.

If the Eno River could speak, what stories would it tell? What secrets does it hold? Tree borings from large hardwoods and conifers can tell us about weather patterns and climate changes, and soil deposits along the banks record the impacts of floods land disturbances through the centuries.

Bowbarr, on West Rosemary Street, closed after fifteen years. It had been a key spot on the list of “grown-up” bars that I’d been collecting since my retirement in 2019. Let me explain.