Nashville: A Trip to the Opera

FRANKLIN/NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE – Happy Mothers Day!

It was a second long day’s drive Friday to get from Fayetteville to near-Nashville. Folks in Tennessee drive faster and cut in and out of lanes, which is all well and good if there weren’t so many skid marks on the highway and at least two accidents we almost witnessed with drivers sitting in the median with their heads in their hands. Large and prosperous looking ranches and farms stretch across Arkansas and into Tennessee. Fewer strip malls and billboards on our route but not fewer “Come to God” signs or churches or public praying or quotes from John and Revelations. There really is a Bible Belt. Our drive was also notable because it delivered us back East of the Mississippi.

We are in our well-appointed and comfortable garage apartment (“loft”) in Franklin, a lovely, historic, and very well to do community outside of Nashville, thanks to the thoughtfulness of our in-law Allyson, and to Airbnb. Our thanks to Allyson, Libby and Charlie also for advice and help in this region.

Sweet Cece's in downtown Franklin.

It got up to 95° in Nashville Saturday, but Music City is our main reason for being here, so Gus endured the heat (while Cece relished it—finally feeling warm enough).

Our Nashville day began with lunch at an upscale Mexican restaurant with a fine mole, and it occurred to us while there to issue this WARNING: There is no longer any food left in the South. We have eaten it all.

Since we were headed to the Grand Ole Opry last evening, we thought that that yang needed a big yin, so off we went to “Old Jews Telling Jokes,” which we had wanted to see when on Broadway, but missed. Well, we have not laughed so much for a long time. A firehose of earthy, ribald jokes and telling barbs about kids, marriage, sex, health, religion, bowels and more, all with the overarching theme of the healing power of humor, any humor. The travelling cast was great.

The only problem with the play was that, unbeknown to us, the comedy theater expected each of us in the audience to purchase two items off the menu, and we had just eaten lunch. Gus was determined to keep calories to a minimum—and so had two martinis. Cece gave her you-only-live-once grin and had Tennessee cheesecake and coffee. Cece has felt compelled to eat local desserts whenever possible: bread pudding, pralines, banana pudding, beignets (should be listed under desserts), and now cheesecake.

We then headed to the scene in Nashville, what is called The District. For several blocks down Broadway toward the Cumberland River and off the side streets, in establishments small and large the bands were playing, most often very loud Rock, and the beer and booze were flowing. We continued to win Most Out of Place and joined the wildly attired, weirdly done-up, and heavily tattooed young folks in a couple of these spots, blending in not at all. These joints were full of people lip-synching songs we’d never heard.

"Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today!"

In a bar off Broadway...

Cute District scene.

Pedaling while drinking.

Then off to the Grand Ole Opry… We really didn’t know what to expect—our familiarity dating back as it does to the days of early TV and Minnie Pearl. Well, the Opry has gotten grand, for sure. It has moved to the outskirts of town to accommodate the crowds and the Opry House rivals the largest concert halls in size. Arriving, parking and entering has the feel of showing up for a Patriots game. The audience is your average Americans, entirely white (we spotted one black couple in the packed house), and the show is sponsored by Cracker Barrel and Dollar General. Some were novice spectators like Gus and Cece, but most were avid country music fans and knew many of the songs. Gus’ view is that if you cut through the cornpone, the music, especially the bluegrass and the instrumentals, was damn good. Hearing Mark Wills sing was itself worth the trip, as was Bobby Osborne doing “Rocky Top Tennessee.” Cece especially enjoyed Connie Smith singing “Amazing Grace,” and appreciated the long tradition (over 4500 consecutive Saturday nights!). We were both glad that the Opry was largely free of songs and comments about the military, guns, politics, American exceptionalism, and other patriotic gore.

New home of the Opry before the people.

Bobby Osborne has the stage.

Like many other southern cities, Nashville seems to be thriving, though in an interesting way and on a more human-scale than some.

And, lest we forget, HAPPY 12^th BIRTHDAY, WEEZIE!