My family helped shape Savannah's hospitality scene from the ground up - back when River Street was still warehouses and possibility, not yet shops and trolley stops. I learned to talk to everyone. Busboys, bartenders, billionaires, the regular who'd been coming in every Friday since before I was born. Storytelling wasn't a hobby in my house. It was just how people talked to each other. 

That's the whole reason Savannah Sessions exists. 

I'm not parachuting into this city looking for a good story. I live here. I grew up here. I'm a peer, a neighbor, somebody's kid, somebody's regular - and that gets me into rooms and conversations that a visiting journalist or a tourism brochure never could. 

Every episode, I sit down with someone who's helped make Savannah what it actually is -not the postcard version, the real one. The founders. The lifers. The troublemakers. The ones who've been keeping a story in their back pocket for thirty years because nobody ever asked the right question. 

We talk for a while - 45 minutes, sometimes an hour - usually somewhere that matters to the story itself. A restaurant that's been in someone's family for three generations. A porch. A workshop. Wherever the story actually happened. And after we wrap the "real" interview, we usually keep talking over drinks. We call that part "After the Cut," and honestly, sometimes it's the best part. 

A few things you won't find here: politics, crime, restaurant reviews, religion, tourism fluff, or gossip. Savannah Sessions isn't a news show and it's not a sales pitch. It's just people, telling the truth about the place we all call home. 

If you live here, or you used to, or you've just fallen hard for this city on a visit - I think you're going to feel like family pretty quick. 

Keep on letting your lovelight shine,

Chelsea