Day 48
Cock-of-the-walk
flying cornbread
and Opryland
Hotel
Ah!
Sweet Nashville! My birthplace! Home of the Grand Ole Opry! And, my relatives.
Three
or four times a year we loaded up the old Ford and headed South. On to the old frontier for good times, fun, surprise events
and adventure. Never a dull moment---No!...Never! For me!
Life
is, indeed, what you make it! Amen!
People are bored and lonely---not me…Never!
Simple!
Humble ! Me. Maybe I’m dull? Maybe? But, I am never bored or lonely. Uh! Uhn!
Through
yonder window light an awesome world beckons; a panorama vista---for…me!
I’ll
take the dawn grey, mid-morning shower, high noon sun, afternoon warm, evening
purple haze, nighttime respite, blue-white diamond studded midnight black.
Smell the dank aroma of a pristine forest floor, spy the surface “break” as a
slight swirl where the big red-ear male sunfish stands sentinel over the
spawning bed, count the diamond glistens on a lake’s white waves, watch the squirrel
endeavor storing winter nuts, embrace with my eyes the beauty of yonder rose,
smell nature’s sweetness, smile love
into my heart at the sight of a child---kiss sacred life…”Hello!” It’s one
grand adventure, life is, and, if it rains, I’ll dance between the raindrops
and kiss the fresh result—life …is my passion! Nobody rains on my parade---not allowed. Amen.
Our
Tennessee “vacations” live magic in
this simple, humble memory. All great
adventures.
I
never met Elvis in person, but, that timber-tone blessed talent lifts this
wretched spirit to celestial heights; a gladdened-heart embraces the offered
sacred Grace of the Holy Spirit. Such
tender intended Praise! Honor! Glory!
fulfills my purpose, and eternal success, at Happiness!
So?
My Nashville shines warm comfort and
bright vistas in this aging memory. Thank
You!
As
I transcended the ages, sliding through one New Year after another, so matured
my sacred Nashville-town. I spied “Skeeter” Davis one fine Saturday night at
the Ryman Auditorium as she crooned “One Tin Soldier” into my yearning heart.
Thanks! Skeeter! I still love you!
Picnics
at Shelby Park, stick ball games with the Rebel cousins, Granny’s love and
feasts.
“Cock-of-the-walk”
is a restaurant near the new Opryland Hotel; we spent many an enjoyable dining
experience on those premises and more than a few excursions in the grand hotel
where daughter Beth celebrated her wedding reception after exchanging vows at
the old brick church on the grounds of Andrew Jackson’s beloved Hermitage. There was one elegant party. Fabulous!
The
waiters at Cock-of-the-walk brought out huge white platters of fried fish and
piping- hot southern cornbread in a cast iron skillet; they tossed the bread-delicacy
into the air making it “flip” and caught it in the pan before it hit the
floor---well… Most of the time! I
always quickly offered the dropped confection to one of my guests! Nobody can ever accurately accuse me of being selfish and
having to get the first bite! Bon Appetite!
All
I ever lacked at the Cock-of-the-walk venue to make it a real extravaganza was
a black leather western vest and a black Stetson with a silver jangle band, I
reckon!
Yeah! “Cock”-of-the-walk!? Indeed!
Y’all
might take the rebel, rascal, rogue out of the south---but…Well! Y’all already know!
Love you,
Nashville! Forever!
Ah! Cookie Jar “Rebel” Memories! Amen!
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