Miss a girl from Tennessee...

One of those nights, I guess, that makes you realize you're right where you're supposed to be.

Ducked into Barley's tonight just after 7:30. Thought I'd enjoy a Yuengling and listen to the music awhile. Just didn't want to go home.

The bartender has started to recognize me. She tells me my order before I ask. I smile, nod, and say thanks. Makes me feel a little less lonesome.

After awhile, I decided to try a Fat Tire, a New Belgium I'd heard about that's brewed out of Colorado. Not bad, but I'll stick with my favorite.

Anyway, at intermission, the boys from the band came up and sat down at the bar. We got to talking. Mike, the guitar player, asked if I was going to sing one. I told him that was up to Robin.

Asked her when she came back and she said, "Sure."

So we did. There's something spiritual about live music; something like that makes you glad to be alive, full of an almost naive happiness, not caring about anything else but the moment.

After it was over, a fella from Black Oak Ridge, Bob Terry, came up and shook my hand.

Bob is a Vietnam vet. He reads the paper all the time. Had some nice things to say and told me a little bit about his life.

"Keep up the good work," he says.

After the set ends, I say my goodbyes, walk out into the night and marvel at the simple beauty of such a moment.

And, I remember a song playing at the bar, and hum its lyrics on the way home, all about missing a girl from Tennessee.