No, We're Not in Florida Anymore.

I know, I've been neglecting my documentation of our travels. My creative energies are being channeled into my interior design fantasies. Apologies offered. I'll do a quick update now. This Spring and Summer are all about friends, family, and future too I guess.

Our last stop in Florida was a very stimulating one in Jacksonville, where I dashed around madly trying to visit all the furniture stores to feed my fantasies and determine which ones will be most useful when we come back to Jekyll Island in the Fall.  Jekyll is about halfway between Jacksonville and Savannah, both of which have more furniture and interior decor stores than can be found closer. Furniture Mart will be my lead provider I think, with the local Jacksonville West Elm and Ballard Design stores in supporting roles. Brunswick also has Sweats, a nice but small furniture store, which will be a great local resource.

Then we parked at Coastal Georgia RV Resort in Brunswick and spent the week gazing longingly at the construction site where our townhouse will be. We also walked the beaches on Jekyll Island every day and explored the local territory, including St. Simons Island. From the Jekyll beaches we viewed porpoises and manatee in the shallow waters, enjoyed the deep green shade of the oaks, and basked in the relaxing atmosphere of the Island. What a beautiful place Jekyll is. Even more beautiful than we remembered. We're still feeling really good about our decision to live there.

After a too short and wonderful week with our family (Hi Bob, Caroline, Catherine, Will, Sarah, Cathy, Jess and Michael!) in Mount Pleasant, SC we started making some serious headway northward.  For us that still means moving only about 2 hours on travel days, and spending a couple of days at each stop.  

In our slow and steady style we actually made it through South Carolina and North Carolina, into Tennessee, and stopped for a week at the tidy Two Rivers Landing RV Resort in Sevierville and the Great Smoky Mountains. While there, we revisited our favorite spots in the National Park, perused the hugely comprehensive Smoky Mountain Knife Works, and had a lovely visit with Rick's old friends, Bob and Barb from Louisville.

On through Tennessee, Kentucky and into Ohio, we stopped for a great visit with our new friends Barb and Phil, in Mount Vernon, OH. They were kind and generous to let us stay in their home over the Memorial Day Weekend. What a blessing it was to get a break from the crowds and expense we would have encountered in an RV park on this holiday. And Phil and Barb are just so much fun to be with. We explored all around the beautiful Ohio countryside, including Granville, where I went to college and where Rick's great grandfather was a pastor and president of a local women's college (predating Denison University, my alma mater).  Granville is still such an idyllic little town, and I think Ohio is just about the most beautiful state in the country. Thanks Phil and Barb for showing us around your home state!

After a few of more quick stops in pastoral Ohio, the northwest corner of Pennsylvania and western NY, we've landed in apple country north of the Finger Lakes for a week to catch our breath from all this hard ramblin'.  : )  Right now we're at NorWin Campground and Fruit Farm, kind of an unusual stop for us. The large campground of primarily summer homes/trailers of local folks, is surrounded on all sides by a beautiful farm, with fruit orchards, corn fields and goat pastures. Our hosts couldn't have been nicer, and found us, on short notice, a pull-through spot with an open sky so we could use our satellite. We'll get both cars serviced, clean house, do a lot of laundry and let Honey run through the orchards.

We'll be in New England very soon for some long awaited visits with many dear people who we love and have missed. Our travels will peak at Acadia National Park, then we start the long trip back south, stopping in New Hampshire and Vermont for a couple of weddings and a visit with my son Mark. Lots to look forward to.

P.S. Sorry, no photos. There is something bad going on between Picasa (Google's photo program) and Blogger (Google's blogging program). I'm not feeling hopeful about where it's going, so the future of this blog is in question. I'm very tempted to bad mouth Google, which has basically abandoned Picasa users, and may be planning the same for Blogger.

Memphis, TN: Graceland

"For reasons I cannot explain there's some part of me wants to see Graceland." - Paul Simon

That puts it nicely. Neither Rick nor I have ever been Elvis fans, so what are we doing here? Who knows. But we were going to be in Memphis, and thought, why not? Elvis Presley and his home are cultural phenomena, so perhaps we better witness it and see what we see. 

Admission to Graceland is not cheap. With a senior and AAA discount the basic tour for two came to $57.  We maintained hopes for the best.  We were directed to a line for the shuttle, passing the first of many souvenir shops along the way, and given our headsets for the guided audio tour.  

The shuttle bus delivered us on the front porch of the "mansion," which is only a mansion by the standards of a young man born and raised in Tupelo, Mississippi.  It's about the size of a larger home in a northern suburb, maybe comparable to one of the McMansions that are going up all over the country - maybe smaller.  I believe he bought the home in 1957, when the property was out in the country south of Memphis.

We were directed into the front hallway by a guide, and then we were on our own with the audio tour.  First room - the living room - and right away we were transported back to the sixties and seventies. This house is how someone from that era, who came in to a lot of money, but had no history of privilege, power and class, would decorate their home. The rooms are of typical size and the decor is, well, how can I say this, ghastly? no, garish? no, gaudy maybe? I give up. What it triggers is a whole set of classist, judgmental descriptors that are out of place and time. It is what it is.

The staircase up to Elvis's private floor, which remains private. 

Maybe Lisa Marie, his daughter, and current owner, still lives up there? I doubt it. 

A guest bedroom...

The dining room. Very simple china, gaudy chandelier. Oops, there I go again.

When we entered the kitchen, it all hit home. Literally. This could have been my family's kitchen when I was growing up, just a little bigger. Passing through the kitchen, we began to feel like we were really in someone's home. A real person, who lived much like we did. 

Down the stairs to the basement.  Here the fantasy house begins. 

Think disco and psychedelics. The stairs are completely lined with mirrors and lights. 

The TV room is also mirrored on the ceiling, and all done in yellow and purple. 

Eek! (by today's standards.) Bold, exotic, "modern."

Funny little pool table room here. The walls and ceiling are lined with fabric that matches the sofa, and there is a small Picasso on one wall.

Now up the stairs, lined with green shag carpet as a foreshadowing of interior indulgences to come...

..in the "Jungle Room" (today I think it would qualify as a man cave). 

(Just looking at this snapshot of his life provoked so many questions. Was Elvis a typical man of his times? Was this how rock and roll culture looked in the homes of his contemporaries? It reminded me of Michael Jackson [who Elvis's daughter married! Double Eek!] - an icon of his time too, gifted, promoted, wrung out and strung out.) 

Back to the jungle room. Rick kept rolling his eyes. But I was actually feeling a little teary. It's so...so...I give up again. 

Well here's the kicker. Exit out the back, cross through the modest car port and there is Lisa Marie's swing set. Once again, it all comes home. This is just a guy, just a family home. He had enough money to do whatever he wanted with this home, probably hired big deal interior decorators to do whatever was hottest at the moment. But a swing set is a swing set. It could have been a three story tree house, or a child sized railroad, but it was just a swing set. How sweet.

We walked along the back of the house - very normal...

...and into the "Trophy" hall, which is basically a museum filled with memorabilia 

of Elvis's music and movie career.  A loooong hall with his gold records.

The final exhibit room used to be the racquetball court, but is now a display of his last years, complete with more gold and platinum records and about 8 of the very flashy outfits he was known for in the seventies.  Sequins, capes, bell-bottoms.  The best part of this room, and really most of the museum spaces is the film footage of his performances. They were absolutely stunning. It's true, he was a remarkable performer. Not doubt about it. I unfortunately did not appreciate his musical style when he was alive. I was in college, and Elvis was not cool among the "intelligentsia" of academia and the hippies like me. Rick was at sea and not so tuned in to US modern culture. So we missed most of Elvis's music.  But I get it now. 

Elvis's and his family's graves are in his meditation garden. 

I am SO glad we went. Although it's hard to find the right words to describe Elvis's home, it doesn't feel so hard to find words for him. He was clearly a gifted performer, but I also came away feeling like he was sweet. A sweet man. I guess I'm not alone in feeling that, and that's one reason why he has been so loved. 

I also came away appreciating that this amazing moment in time has been preserved for us to see now. Not so different from Andrew Jackson's Hermitage. Elvis was just from a different era, a representative of the "creative class" rather than the political gentry, but just as powerful in his own way. 

Nashville, TN: LIGHT by Bruce Munro at Cheekwood Gardens

Cheekwood Gardens and Art is located southwest of Nashville in the upscale suburb of Belle Meade, which was once a single plantation of 5,400 acres. Cheekwood was the home of the Cheek family, who made their fortune with Maxwell House coffee.  Incidentally, the Maxwell House was a hotel in Nashville where they served Cheek's unique coffee blend, which Teddy Roosevelt supposedly called "good the the last drop" - thus the well known slogan.

Cheekwood is now a botanical garden and art museum housing antiques and contemporary art.  This summer and fall they were hosting an unusual kind of exhibit, LIGHT, by Bruce Munro. We arrived just before sunset, and parked very close to the Visitor's Center.  On our way out, about two hours later, we saw cars parked much, much farther away, on either side of the entry driveway all the way to the road. Our early arrival was a great idea.

We strolled through the gardens, waiting for darkness and the illumination of the exhibit.  This is what the section called "Field of Lights" looked like before dark. 

We took the Carell Woodland Sculpture Trail through the woods and saw about eight permanent large sculptures before emerging at the Japanese Garden where we saw Munro's "Candelight" against a back drop of golden gingko trees...

..."Blue Moon" in the Japanese dry lake

...and "Fireflies" in the bamboo forest.

The path led us to "Light Reservation," a grouping of about ten blinking neon tipi-like structures, 

just as the sun disappeared and the sliver of moon appeared.  I thought the natural twilight outshone this one by a long shot.

As we approached the mansion, it was finally dark enough to appreciate the "Field of Lights."

We didn't even know that the museum was going to be open, but inside there were more surprises awaiting. It was a truly elegant building. Rick was completed enamored. It's architectural style was balanced and subtle, yet finely detailed. We walked through a few rooms filled with china and silver collectibles and then came upon two glorious creations by Munro that were part of the LIGHT exhibit.  The first was "Light Shower."  The effect was created by curtains of fiber optics ending in crystals. The reflections in the windows looked like brilliant stars. 

Here's how it looked from outside.

And here's how it looked from below.

The second, and most breathtaking of the evening, was the "Bell Drop Chandelier" 

hanging in the grand central staircase. 

Each filament ended in a silver light emitting bell. Here's the view from below.

The three story staircase wound around it, allowing a 360 degree view from top to bottom. Here is the side view, looking through the shower of light at other traditional chandeliers down the hall.

After standing entranced by the "Bell Drop Chandelier" with our mouths hanging open for long enough, we exited the mansion to see yet another view of "Field of Lights."

We made our way back to the entrance of the park, to see the last segment of the exhibit, "Water-Towers." The towers were made with recycled one liter bottles filled with water and fiber optics. 

The jewel colors of each tower changed very gradually, and on top of that, beautiful music was coming from inside each tower. As we walked through and around the towers, I found the experience completely enchanting. 

It was such an unusual and inspiring evening. It felt like we had been in another world. 

Well, that's the last of our reports from the world of Music City. We always end these extended visits saying to each other that one month is just right to get to know an place, and we felt that way again, about Nashville. It's quite a town, and we're ready to move on. 

Nashville, TN: Agricultural Life Then and Now

The fall harvest is still going strong here in Nashville, as we discovered at the Farmers Market downtown with Nick and Cindy, our friends who we met last winter at The Great Outdoors, in Florida. Cindy and I enjoyed looking at the turnip greens, four kinds of kale, summer squash, tomatoes, cauliflower, eggplant, and winter squash. The market here has a section that is just for the real farmers, and it was full of fruits, veggies, smoked hams and canned goods at unbeatable prices.  I picked up some tomatoes and kale.

I think they were also selling some produce from way out of town in some cases, but most was local. It gave us a sense of what the local farming scene is like. We haven't been out in the county too much around here, and haven't seen what's being raised. Some horses, some cattle, no crops to speak of.

There was another section with a well stocked international grocery store and a few restaurants and vendors selling baked goods. We couldn't resist the cinnamon buns ... so, next morning, after the cinnamon buns, the four of us loaded up in our GMC truck (usually reserved for towing the DRV) and drove to The Hermitage, home and plantation of Andrew Jackson, aka "Old Hickory."

After the basic admission price of $19 ($16 for seniors) an outstanding audio self-guided tour is provided at no extra cost.  The combination of the audio tour and the informative displays throughout the museum, grounds and mansion (above) taught us a great deal about Jackson, our seventh president. Rick and I had forgotten most of what we might have ever known about him. We even had Old Hickory confused with Stonewall Jackson, the great Civil War confederate general. Ignorant northerners. 

The audio tour also had optional tracks to learn about The Hermitage and Andrew Jackson through the life of his wife, Rachel. Cindy and I found that especially interesting. Andrew and Rachel Jackson are buried in the tomb next to the house (below). Their last living slave, Albert, in buried right next to the tomb.

The Hermitage website is also very informative about Jackson and The Hermitage. Jackson was a general, politician, president and a farmer. The Hermitage was primarily a cotton plantation, although they raised animals and produce for their own consumption. The Hermitage maintains a small patch of cotton on the grounds so that visitors can see what cotton looks like. There were still a few bolls on the plants that were mostly dead from a recent frost. 

 Jackson owned hundreds of slaves, and the Hermitage does an excellent job of relating the circumstances of their lives and their significance to the plantation. It was strange to hear the tape talking about Jackson buying and selling people. One track of the audio tape was especially moving. It was nothing but the recitation of the names of Jackson's slaves and it went on and on and on...

 These are two reconstructed slave cabins. 

On the grounds is a small herd of Belted Galloway cattle. The herd was completed unfazed by my approach to their two tiny calves. I guess they're pretty used to company. Galloways are a shaggy kind of cattle, as you can see on this little guy.

Live tour guides are ready in the mansion to lead you through the rooms and answer any questions.  I'd say the home fell somewhere between Jefferson's Monticello and Washington's Mount Vernon in terms of style and grandeur. There were no photos allowed inside, but the kitchen was actually out back. You can see how modest it is by modern standards.

There was also a horse and wagon tour available, but we passed on that. 

It was a beautiful day and we were happy to walk around on our own steam.

We were all pretty impressed with the quality of the Hermitage and the depth of information about Jackson and his plantation that was easily accessible in one visit.  Ours lasted about three hours and we were ready for a late lunch. We stopped at McNamara's, the "world's best Irish pub outside of Ireland." 

We had a nice pot of tea and some corned beef reuben sandwiches.

Well, we're leaving Nashville tomorrow and I hope to squeeze in one more post before we got. 

Then on the Memphis and Graceland! 

Nashville, TN: It' all about the music

...and we did our very best to honor Nashville's title of Music City. After getting warmed up with the Country Music Hall of Fame last week, we ventured on to the live music venues. (Even before arriving in Nashville I stealthily procured tickets to the Grand Ole Opry to see a "Big Name" in country music.) But our first live music experience was at Music City Roots at the Loveless Cafe, or actually the Loveless Barn out back.

The Loveless Cafe is one of the those places my hair dresser recommended, and though we didn't get there for a down home country dinner, we did get there for the music. In back of the cafe and the cutesy little Southern tourist shops, is the music venue that houses Music City Roots. Roots hosts the new and aspiring musician crowd, about five bands per evening. We saw Jonathon Scales Forchestra, Daniel Romano, Sturgille Simpson, Amanda Shores, and Leftover Salmon. One of the hosts, in the photo above, is a good ole local favorite, Jim Lauderdale.  Now, to be completely frank, we weren't wild about any of these folks, though they all had plenty of talent.  The big problem was that the volume was so loud that we were blown out of our seats by the second act. Too bad, because some of them might have been much more enjoyable with better sound engineering. 

On the other hand, our evening at the Grand Ole Opry was acoustic perfection.  I had been at the Opry about 40 (gasp!) years ago and saw some of the old timers: Minnie Pearl, Roy Acuff, Bill Monroe, Tex Ritter and more. That was some experience. Then the Ryman Auditorium, which was synonymous with the Opry, closed down and the Opry show moved out to Opryland. I never saw it there, but I am in vicarious agreement with common sentiment that it just wasn't the same. But, the happy ending to the story is that now the Ryman Auditorium is refurbished and open again and hosts the Grand Ole Opry show about half the time.  

We got there early and had time to look around, take pictures and wear out our butts on the hard pews that are still the only seating at the Ryman. Smart audience members bring cushions. 

There are two levels, and our seats were on the lower level, under the balcony, and (apologies to Rick) behind a pillar. Well, not completely behind it; we could still see around it, but had to do the "lean to the left - lean to the right" dance all evening.

Here's the view from the tip-top location of the sound booth. And, as I mentioned, the sound was perfection. Not too loud and clear as a bell. You could understand what everyone was saying all the time. The Grand Ole' Opry has always been a radio show, so there are announcers who orchestrate the whole thing and engage the audience in clapping at the right times.  

By the time the show started it was a completely full house. The show is divided in to four equal sections, with a different musical host for each, and one or two artists per section.  The hosts for the evening were Jeannie Seely, The Whites, Connie Smith and John Conlee who I gather are the regulars. They each sang a couple of old favorites and introduced the featured acts. Those were: Sara Haze (sweet), The Roys (traditional bluegrass), Jesse McReynolds (mandolin player extraordinaire, Opry member since 1964), Josh Turner (a very handsome baritone - popular with the young women in the crowd), Jim Lauderdale (yes of Music Roots - sounding better here), Chris Janson (young and exuberant!!!), and...

...Little Big Town!!! You may (or may not) know them from their very fun hit song "Pontoon."

They were all great. Although some were more well known to us that others, they were all performers of the highest quality, and the Ryman just takes the cake. If you're ever in Nashville, DO THIS.

The other place where Nashville music and party lovers go is "honky tonkin'" in "The District." A honky tonk is a dive where there is live music, plenty to drink and few inhibitions. Broadway and Printer's Row are the prime locations to go honky tonkin', so that's where we went.  Here you see the intersection of old and new on Broadway. That's the AT&T building, looking like Batman overlooking Gotham City.

Now, those readers who know us probably know that we are not bar hoppers, and one of us does not, has not ever, imbibed.  So this was a really unusual event for us. We got some support from our good friends Nick & Cindy who stopped in Nashville on their way to Florida.  We couldn't have done it without them.  We headed downtown early, before dark and before the crowds, we hoped. It was a good plan, because by the time it got dark, the place was hoppin'. In fact, it was hopping when we got there, but not as crowded as it would get later. 

Our first stop, or pass through I should say, was Legends. 

Most of the places have front and back/side doors to ease "just passin' through."

Here's a snap of the inside. It's a typical setup. 

Bar near the back, seating or dance floor in the middle, and the loud band in the window. 

The music up and down the street is a mix of top ten country, rock/country fusion and some older country here and there.  We stopped for a snack and beverage at Rippy's, where there were three bands in three rooms on two floors. In any location you could hear all three, so they had to play loud enough to drown one another out. You can imagine, I'm sure. The open air second floor of Rippy's seems to be a favorite spot. We actually found a room right next door to sit for a drink and a plate of nachos where there wasn't a band, so we could hear each other talk.

We got a great view of Broadway from Rippy's. We even saw Elvis. 

Across the street is the infamous Tootsie's. We braved that place last. 

Just a few doors down the street was Ernest Tubb's Music Store, a traditional place to get your country and blue grass CD's if you haven't discovered I-Tunes yet, or if you're just caught up in the whole country music thing of the moment.

As the evening progressed, we had only one encounter with a drunk local boy at the Swinging Doors Saloon, who took offense at Rick's Patriot's hat.  I'm surprised it didn't happen more than once.  

Later the carriages came out to convey weary or romantic music lovers around the town. 

But for the fun-loving hard-drinkers, the Pedal Tavern is an alternative mode of transport, as long as you have the strength and where-with-all to stay on your seat. We stuck with walking.

Finally we tackled Tootsie's, thanks to Cindy. She was right, as long as you're here you might as well see it all. And Bobby, the nice guy who cut my hair, said that Tootsie's was the most disgusting place ever but we had to see it. He was right too. Here's a view from the back stairs, looking through the bar toward the front. The walls are lined with old autographed photos that are coated with smoke and dust and seem to be rotting in their frames. The floor is sticky and littered. And everyone is having a ball. We got in and out long enough to get the idea. 

Now here's the kicker. The best music we heard all night was coming out of this utility box.  

Really. Only in Nashville.