Thomas Wolfe

I grew up in Asheville, and on occasion as a boy I was infrequently left alone in downtown—I was an original latch-key kid—waiting on my mother to drive in from her job in Black Mountain to pick me up after school. Read more


Look homeward

Photo courtesy of Thomas Wolfe Memorial

For most of us, “home” usually conjures feelings of warmth and comfort. We often define home as a physical, tangible place where we either live, have grown up, or share memories with ones we love. In a sense, “home” is a friend to us. Read more


It had started to snow on our tiny yellow cottage in Shuffletown as dusk came on, and when the call came from Patricia, there were probably six inches in our backyard—a rarity in that part of the North Carolina Piedmont. Read more