Travel Time 5/12/22

Last Sunday we left Asheville and made our way into Tennessee - ending up in Nashville for the next three weeks.

I have always wanted to visit Nashville. Ever since I was a little girl, and my grandfather would tell me stories about the honky tonks in Oklahoma, and the music scene he loved so dearly.

Once a year I would travel back to Oklahoma to spend the summer with my aunt and cousins. Visiting my grandmother in the nursing care facility where she lived. My grandpa would pick me up at the airport in Oklahoma City, driving me two hours back to the small town my mother’s family came from in the southeastern corner of the state. As we drove we would listen to country music on the radio and he would tell me stories about the places we passed - his old haunts when he was still drinking. The places he hung out before he found AA (Alcoholics Anonymous).

A song would come on the radio and he would say things like, “this is a pre AA song”. Or, see that place over there, I used to go dancing there and then he would laugh a bit about the trouble he got himself into. In reality his drinking almost cost him everything. But he was hell bent on making up for the years he had wasted by helping others find their way out of a bottle. He helped many a drinker in his day - including my own mother who finally went to him when she decided to give up drinking. I always wonder what that must have been like - having his own daughter almost lose everything just like he did. Knowing that he had passed that gene on to her.

Country music lies deep in my DNA - probably as deep as that tendency to get carried away with booze. Luckily for me it was the country music that took root and not the drinking. And I can’t imagine a place more deeply connected to country music than Nashville.

Even with the excitement of coming to Nashville we were sad to leave Asheville on Sunday morning and this was a first for both of us.

Usually, by the time we get ready to move to the next location, we are ready to go. But this time we were reluctant. And that is saying something because we had been without sewer hookup for three weeks - relying on the guy who came around and pumped out our tanks from time to time for a cost. We had been skimping on water, limiting showers, eating off paper plates - and yet we were still sad to be going.

We sat out late the night before we left enjoying the evening light on the pond and the cool mountain air. I said goodbye to the flocks of baby geese that had come into the world while we were there. We took a couple of last walks with Brigid. Throwing the ball in the meadow she loved so much. And then early Sunday morning we got in the car and drove away. Promising to come back again next year.

We made our way slowly out of North Carolina and into Tennessee. Driving through the Appalachian Mountains. Winding our way up country roads. Through valleys and past more Baptist churches than seemed possible in such close density.

A drive that would have taken about five hours on the interstate ended up taking over eight hours by the time we pulled in. But we like the slower pace. And it allows us to see things we would miss if we were driving down the interstate at eighty miles per hour. For large portions of our drive we never got above thirty five. It is just easier to see things when you go slower.

And the week too has gotten off to a slow start. We both had full work weeks to attend to, so we haven’t had a chance to leave the campground yet, or to do any sightseeing. There weather also has heated up and summer is clearly just around the corner - most of our days have been in the high eighties. Today we are supposed to hit ninety degrees.

We have been spending our afternoons after work riding our bikes around the campground, swimming in the pool. Watching the Ken Burns documentary on the history of Country Music. Preparing for our Nashville adventures.

Tonight we are heading to the restaurant of one of our favorite chefs. Excited to try her fusion Indian food mixed with southern flavors. Tomorrow we will do some touring, and Saturday we have tickets to go to the Country Music Hall of Fame. Next weekend we will tour the Grand Ole Opry. We looked at getting tickets to a show but the lowest price was over fifty dollars per ticket - the most expensive ones - two hundred and fifty a piece. Too much for us for sure along with the cost of the other sights we had in mind.

And in the midst of all this planning we got word earlier this week that both my parents have Covid. My mom running a fever. My dad crackly and tight in the chest. I can’t believe we made it this far into the pandemic only for them to get it now. I am worried and too many miles away to pop in and see how they are doing. Or to offer my help. We are taking it day by day to see if they will need more help. My sister is planning on driving out there on Saturday and staying in their casita so she can be close but not have direct contact. If need be I will go too.

I am feeling the pull of my ancestral roots here even though my roots live much further away from here.

I am calling on my grandfather and grandmother to watch over my mom and dad. Asking my grandpa to protect her like he did when she came to him all those years ago to stop drinking. Calling on the same God that my grandma taught me about to comfort them as they take time to heal.

And I am looking forward to visiting a real honky tonk for the first time in my life. Jason laughs because he knows how much I don’t like rowdy places with lots of drinking - too much like my growing up years. He knows I get nervous when there is a lot of drinking going on. So we are going to visit Honky Tonk row early in the day before things get rowdy. And then drive by at night when all the neon is aglow.

And things move on. Life continues.

And we take it one day at a time. Something else my grandpa taught me.

And we never lose hope in the mercy of God.