“And where your love has always been enough for me.”
Posted on August 24th, 2014 @ 8:06 pm

 

Last weekend (so it is for me), I flew to Nashville, TN.  I had a flight credit I had to use.  Nashville, TN was the cheapest place to fly to simply because I wouldn’t be alone, nor need a hotel room.

Nashville is where my parents are from.  Family on my father’s side still live there, including his brother.  My mother’s best friend from high school and her kids live there.  I decided to visit them.

The flight leaving Savannah was late because the plane was late coming from Atlanta.  I flew Delta, but they took care of me.  They notified me as soon as a problem occurred with the time.  When I got to the gate counter, I was behind some people that complained about not getting to Denver until the next day. I am not a seasoned flyer.  I mainly fly for vacations.  However, I think the people’s anger were misdirected.  All I could think of is why didn’t they plan for the worst?  Judgmental?  Maybe.  I know as I planned my vacation, I thought of the worst case scenarios and had a plan mapped out accordingly.  When I got that note of my plane being late, I went to the gate counter with a smile and asked when could I get to Nashville.  I was mental prepared about flying to Nashville the next day if needed.

Thankfully,  Delta and the girl at the counter arranged me to catch a later flight to Nashville, if I got into Atlanta late for my connecting flight.  It’s all I wanted.  I did catch my original flight into Nashville, barely, but I was glad to have an idea that my vacation wasn’t ruined.  It’s all about planning.

Once I got in Nashville, I was picked up by dear old family friend, Alice.  She’s my mother’s best friend from high school.  In the 1980s and very early 1990s, when my mother took us to Nashville, we would always see her.  She has two kids, Josh and Jesse, that about the same ages as Nicki and myself.  Josh is my age; Jesse is Nicki’s age.  It was always the 4 of us for things like Chuck E. Cheese, movies, and Wave Contry, to name a few.  I hadn’t seen Alice in years.  After my father was sent to Egypt and we moved to Savannah, due to financial and family issues, we stopped going to Nashville.  Since 1992, I had gone to Nashville in 1996, but only saw family, gone to Nashville a few times in 1999 with friends or dealing with family issues in town, 2000 for a Richard Marx show and Grandma’s Funeral,  2004 for Grandpa’s funeral, 2009 for Thanksgiving, and a quick drive by in 2010 to see family.  Never really had time to see friends.  This time, I was going to see Alice.

Not only did I see Alice, but I saw Josh and Jesse.  Alice took me to Broadway to see a few sites.  We also toured the Ryman Auditorium.  While downtown, we had lunch with Josh.  It was the only time I saw him, but it was a good lunch.  It was nice to talk to someone that understands where I come from.  Later that night, I had dinner with Jesse and her family.  She’s married with 2 adorable kids.

Alice lives in Franklin, TN.  A lot of celebrities and rich people live there.  If there was a place on the road we were on, and it belonged to them, she pointed them out.  I couldn’t keep track of where these people live and who there were, but it was beautiful to see.  Before I went to my family, she took me to downtown Franklin to tour a bit.  And before anyone asks, I didn’t see any celebrities. Josh mentioned as we walked towards his work and the Ryman that he saw one, but I wouldn’t have known.

Once I got back to my family, my cousin Melissa and my uncle Rusty took me to Spring Hill Cemetery.  Do you know how many celebrities are buried there?  Quite a few.  However, we were at Spring Hill not to find dead celebrities, but to find our relatives.  Rusty’s grandparents are buried there.  After have a few issues finding the grave, we found it.  Keith Whitley and George Morgan are buried in the same section.  We drove around and found a few other famous graves.  We went across the street to find my grandfather’s grave.  The next day, Melissa and I visits our grandparents and her mother at Woodlawn, as well as saw George Jones’ grave.  Let me tell you, you can’t miss that grave at Woodlawn.

Saturday night, Melissa, Mari-Lynn (Melissa’s niece), and I went to the Station Inn and saw the Tennessee Mafia Jugband.  I was told to be a tourist while I Nashville.  Going to see live music in Music Row is something I’ve never done except for the private Richard Marx show.  I had a good time seeing some bluegrass.  Since the trip, I have been listening to country music and I want to go back to see a show at the Grand Ole Opry.

Sunday, besides the visit to Grandma and Grandpa’s grave, Melissa and I went to Monell’s for lunch.  It’s boarding house fare and we had been talking about Paula Deen and boarding house meals.  Telling my father about the lunch inspired him to have a similar meals this weekend.

It was great to see all these people that love me, but sadly, I had to return home.  Melissa dropped me off at the airport.  Once I got to my gate, Delta was trying to limit overhead luggage.  They offered free checked luggage for those that would check a bag at the gate.  I took them up on it.  Checked my clothes’ bag at the gate.  Once I got in Atlanta, I was glad I didn’t have to change concourses.  I overheard them off vouchers and a hotel room to anyone that would get off the Columbia, SC. bound plane.  Had they offered that for Savannah, I would have taken it to get some sleep.  They didn’t.

I was tired by the time I got back to my house, but it was worth it.  I have plans to return to Nashville for a week in October.  I will probably drive to being some family heirlooms back that I couldn’t fly with on the plane. My animals won’t be happy.  I have been gone from them for 18 nights already.


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“I wanna jump and shout / I wanna sing and dance”
Posted on August 19th, 2014 @ 7:50 pm

More details later, but I went to Nashville this past weekend. It did me some good to get up there. As a result of having fun up there, this song is on my mind.


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“I cry, just like everybody else”
Posted on August 11th, 2014 @ 10:39 pm

I am in shock, like many people, about the death of Robin Williams.

We can speculate on his death, but it won’t change a thing.  Prayers and blessings to his family.

What we can do in his honor, even if some people shun suicides, is promote awareness on depression.

Depression is a big back f*cker that zaps the life out of people.  And it shouldn’t.  Even people you think have the world can suffer from it.

If you know someone that suffers from depression, the best thing you can do for them is be there. Be a shoulder for them to cry on.  Encourage them.  Get them out of their rut.  Do whatever you can.  If you feel they are a threat to themselves, get them help. Love them.

To end this post, here is a song I listen to when I get depressed.


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Beach Music
Posted on August 4th, 2014 @ 10:23 pm

As a young teen in North Carolina, at night, when the radio waves would increase in power, I would surf around and get stations from all over. I may have been at Ft. Bragg, but I could get stations from Jacksonville, NC to the east all the way from Asheboro, NC to the west.

One of the stations, I can’t remember where from, had beach music. Yes, beach music. I would listen to it only if I couldn’t find anything else to listen to.

For some reason, I am longing for beach music. Most like, not the beach music, but that ability to turn on a radio and find the farther signal I can.


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Life



“Ooh you’ll wait a long time for me”
Posted on August 2nd, 2014 @ 9:14 pm

Last night, my father and I continued our Marvel tradition and saw Guardians of the Galaxy. I want to see it again. Chris Pratt. That just may be based on a chick my age looking at a chick my age. Or, that maybe he’s what the kid I had a crush one might have ended up looking like. Either way, I won’t deny that I enjoyed the eye candy.

But, back to the movie. And it was a hoot! My father enjoyed the soundtrack.  I could understand why Peter needed his Walkman.  It was his connection  to his mother.  Even eight and a half years after my mother has died, the music of the 1970s, from when she was teen and young adult, is something I will still stop and listen to because it links me to her.   In a way, your parents’ music becomes your own.

At the Jackson Pollack remark, I blushed.  I’m sure the mother behind me was even more embarrassed when the young son about age 9 asked what did it mean.

I do want to see it again.


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