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My husband and I didn’t get to take the big silver wedding anniversary trip we’d talked about for a long time. I didn’t get to Jane Austen’s England while he played golf. We didn’t spend a week in our favorite hotel in San Francisco with a side trip to Sonoma County and the wine country where we spent our first 14 years of married life. We didn’t get to “redo” our best beach vacations over the years, trips to Kauai (pre-1992 hurricane), Puerto Vallarta, Cabo San Lucas and Siesta Key.
But this past weekend – the rare fall Saturday we both had off – we took a big trip. Luckily, we didn’t have to fly – no security checks. And we got home in time to let the dogs – our own and our “nephew” Charlie – out before the house was destroyed.
We went to Nashville. We were tacky tourists and had a marvelous time.
We started out at Sylvan Park Restaurant on Eighth Avenue, right by the Jaguar place. There’s nothing like biscuits and gravy to get a day started. There’s also nothing like paying for two complete breakfasts for less than one would cost at most of our Brentwood breakfast spots.
From there, we headed north. I quickly realized how long it had been since I had travelled up Eighth Avenue. There were new buildings, new businesses and a lot of face lifts. I must get out of the bubble more often.
We parked and headed to the International Bluegrass Music Association convention at the Nashville Convention Center. In the old days we would have ridden up and down the hotel’s glass elevators a few times, but without little boys giving us an excuse to do it, it seemed a little silly.
Despite the promise of seeing Allison and the boys Saturday night, the $55 IBMA tickets were a little steep, so we moved on. Next stop, the Ryman where we saw WSM’s Eddie Stubbs sharing some of his wisdom with a stranger. A perfect Nashville moment.
It was Regions’ FREE Day of Music at the Schermerhorn Symphony Center and we headed over, walking through Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge from the Ryman alley to get there.
I actually got Larry to listen to an orchestra. Maybe Jack will need to change his “When Pigs Fly” sign outside of his famous Broadway barbecue joint that had a huge line snaking out of it when we walked by.
Our first cold beer was imbibed at the Broadway Brewhouse where we watched LSU whup up on Kentucky and Arkansas and Texas A&M battle it out. A little later, we stopped in another honkytonk just in time to see Arkansas go ahead to win the game. So Aggies, are you really sure you want to join the SEC?
The Nashville Beer Fest was going on along the riverfront and we considered it, but the line was about mile long just to buy a ticket. Note to self: Put it on the calendar for next year and buy a ticket online. The first annual Hot Wings Festival was going on in the park in front of the Country Music Hall of Fame. We didn’t go in but were sorely tempted by the whiffs of wings being roasted, broasted and barbecued.
Did you know there was a Charlie Daniels Museum on Second Avenue? And it’s free – after you walk through the huge gift shop that reinforces every Southern stereotype you’ve ever heard or imagined. It was really fun and I must admit I looked closely at every Gibson guitar on display to see if I could spy any imported ebony or rosewood. Sorry, it’s in the DNA.
Then it was over to Printer’s Alley where we got our second beer in Lonnie’s Western Room karaoke bar. Nope, neither one of us sang, but we could have since only one other patron would have heard us. At least we can say we were there.
After a final trek to the Schermerhorn to see friend Clark Liddell play cello with the Nashville Philharmonic Orchestra, we ended our day watching the Auburn-South Carolina game in the bar that straddles the Renaissance Hotel and the parking lot it shares with the downtown Nashville Library, another favorite destination. Alas, it will have to wait until another day.
Around 6, we headed home. It had been a perfect day. We could have been tourists in New Orleans or New York or, yes, San Francisco. I felt like we were away, really away, and yet we were only 15 miles from Brentwood.
I do love living here, and there. And that big trip will come. The 30th is only five years away ….
Susan Leathers is editor of Brentwood Home Page. Click here to read previous columns. Email her at susan@brentwoodhomepage.com |
